Chapter 118 The Convoy of Shadows


    “Ms. Hall, we roll out at first light. Get some rest,” Lucas said, his voice steady but distant, like he was already mentally on the road.


    “Okay.” Theresa nodded.


    Lucas had given her one of the spare rooms in his fortified mansion. Kyle was bunking down in the next room over. As he turned to shut the door, Lucas paused.


    “By the way,” he added, “I noticed you didn’t eat much tonight. Check the drawer-there are some snacks and cookies in there if you get hungry.”


    “Thanks,” she replied, then quietly closed the door.


    Just like he said, she found a tin of premium cookies in the nightstand drawer. Better hospitality than she usually offered. Maybe next time she could return the favor-if there was a next time.


    The next morning, Theresa was up early, the pale dawn light barely peeking over the tree line, when she headed downstairs. Outside, the convoy was already lined up.


    Beyond a few heavy-duty pickups, there were at least two dozen massive freight trucks, long-haul rigs built to crush through debris and the undead alike.


    Lucas approached her. “Ms. Hall, you and Kyle stick with the car you arrived in. We’ll load your supplies into it when we return.”


    “Got it,” she replied, her tone clipped and alert.


    Theresa climbed into her vehicle with Kyle, falling in line behind the monstrous convoy as they began the long haul toward Branford-a ruined industrial city over 180 miles away. If everything went smoothly, they’d be back in three days. But nothing went smoothly anymore.


    They nned to stop overnight near the highway just outside Branford, a temporary staging point for the different camps.


    They hit the road at 7:30 a.m., and by the time the sun started dipping toward the horizon-around 3:00 p.m.-they had only just reached the rendezvous point.


    The journey was brutal. They had to clear wreckage, scout for ambushes, and avoid the worst of the infected swarms. Highways were the most reliable, but the on-ramps and exits were death traps. Their progress was a stuttering crawl.


    Finally, they arrived at a stretch of highway cleared just enough to hold a small army of battered vehicles.


    These weren’t Kl Camp’s rugged, military-grade transports. Most were scavenged delivery trucks, rusted shipping containers on wheels. As KI Camp’s convoy rumbled in, the camp leaders and survivors already gathered surged forward, eyes wide.


    “Kl Camp’s here!”


    “No wonder they’re the strongest-look at those trucks!”


    “They’re connected to the military. That’s why they’re unstoppable!”


    Lucas stepped out of the lead vehicle, instantly surrounded by other camp leaders.


    “Hey there! I’m Daniel McAllister from Horizon Camp, we’re based in an old chemical nt on Branford’s west end. Got over 300 people!”


    “Owen Chandler, Gxy Camp, southside industrial zone. We’re pushing 400 survivors.”


    “Alvin Kent, Victory Camp. We’re holding the penins near the Crestmont border. Over 500 survivors under our banner.”


    “Hello! I’m Den Clove from Spark Camp! Our camp is in Hightalon Vige, north of Branford. We have 200 people.”


    Lucas nodded to each, calm andposed. “Lucas Keaton, K1 Camp.”


    We’ve heard of Kl Camp for months! If you weren’t so far away, we’d have joined you already!”


    They all smiled, eyes gleaming with a mix of envy and calction.


    Theresa approached from the rear. Lucas gestured to her.


    This is Theresa Hall, she leads zing Sun Camp.”


    ‘zing Sun Camp?” someone repeated, their face scrunching with confusion. Nobody had heard of it.


    They prefer to stay low-profile,” Lucas exined casually.


    To the others, it was code for: tiny and weak.


    How many people in your camp, Ms. Hall?”


    Ten… maybe a dozen,” she said bluntly.


    There was an awkward pause. A few smirks. A few looks were exchanged.


    A dozen? That’s barely a patrol group, someone probably thought-but no one said it out loud. Not with Lucas standing there.


    Instead, they turned back to him.


    “Mr. Keaton, do you have enough food for winter?”


    “Got any extra meat to trade?”


    “How about fresh greens? Anything to spare?”


    “Any surplus weapons? Our patrols are getting shredded out there.”


    The real powerhouse stood unnoticed. Not one of them even nced back at Theresa.


    She didn’t care. Let them beg Lucas. She wasn’t here to make friends.


    Just then, a young woman sidled up beside her. Buzzed hair, sun-baked skin, boyish stance-looked more


    soldier than survivor.


    “You really run a camp?” she asked bluntly.


    Theresa looked up. “And you are?”


    “Charlotte Clove. My brother Den runs Spark Camp. We’re up north, Hightalon Vige.”


    “Hightalon Vige…” Theresa repeated, turning to Kyle.


    “That’s not far from us,” Kyle said, eyes narrowing.