CHAPTER 57: JACKSON TOWNSHIP GROUP [3]

"Who the hell was that exactly?" Christopher asked.

The question hung in the air for a moment before Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his weathered hands fidgeting with the rim of his cup. When he looked up, his eyes held a mixture of shame and defensive love that only a family member could possess.

"Wanda... she’s my granddaughter," he said quietly.

Christopher leaned forward, his expression skeptical. "I get that, but isn’t she basically bullying you? The way she talked to you back there... it was like she genuinely despises you. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t just adopt her or something? Because that dynamic doesn’t exactly scream ’loving family relationship.’"

Joel’s face flushed with indignation. "I didn’t adopt her! She is my granddaughter!" he replied, glaring at Christopher with surprising intensity. "My daughter’s daughter, blood of my blood."

He paused, his anger deflating as quickly as it had risen, replaced by a profound sadness that seemed to age him even further. "My daughter... she suffered from albinism too, you see. The same condition that affects Wanda, though perhaps not quite as severely. Because of her condition and her fragile health, she was unable to leave the house much during her childhood. She grew up isolated, unable to make friends, becoming increasingly antisocial as the years went by."

Joel’s voice grew softer, more distant, as if he were seeing memories play out before his eyes. "Wanda inherited all of that—the albinism, the sensitivity to light, the social isolation. But she also inherited something else... a strength, perhaps, or maybe a hardness that her mother never had. She learned early that the world could be cruel to those who were different."

Rachel, who had been listening intently, leaned forward with genuine concern. "What happened to her parents? Where are they now?"

Joel’s shoulders sagged, and he aged another decade before our eyes. "They died two years ago," he said. "Car accident on their way back from a medical appointment in the city. Since then, I’ve been taking care of Wanda as best I could, but..." He trailed off, shaking his head helplessly.

"I’ve tried to be on her side, to understand her anger and her pain. But then this virus spread, this whole apocalypse began, and now... now I don’t know what will become of Wanda once I’m gone. She’s never had to rely on anyone but family, never learned how to navigate relationships with strangers or communities. How will she survive when I’m not here to protect her?"

I found myself studying Joel’s face, seeing the deep lines of worry and the way his hands trembled slightly. "If you’re that concerned about protecting her, why did you throw yourself into danger by going scavenging? Shouldn’t you have stayed by her side if you really wanted to keep her safe?"

Joel’s laugh was bitter and self-deprecating. "You’d think that would be the logical choice, wouldn’t you? But unfortunately, even though we’re part of this community, Wanda... she isn’t really someone who speaks up or makes requests. She doesn’t ask for things she needs, doesn’t interact with others enough for them to know what she requires."

He gestured helplessly, his voice growing more passionate. "I wanted to gather provisions specifically for her—special sunscreen for her skin, medications for the pain she experiences, foods that won’t upset her sensitive digestive system. If something happens to me, if I die, I want her to have everything she needs to survive. I want her to have enough supplies that she won’t have to depend on the kindness of strangers who might not understand her condition."

Christopher, never one to mince words, shrugged dismissively. "You know what? With a personality like that, I bet nobody would want to help her anyway.

Elena shot Christopher a sharp look that could have cut glass.

"What?" He said, throwing his hands up defensively. "I’m just saying the truth."

Rachel sighed. "She’s had a tough childhood, Christopher. We should try to be understanding and kind to her."

But Christopher wasn’t backing down. "Yeah, I get that she’s been through hell. But you know what? We’re in the middle of an apocalypse here. We’re all dealing with loss, trauma, and impossible situations. She needs to rely on others now whether she likes it or not, and treating her grandfather—the one person who’s been taking care of her—like dirt isn’t going to win her any allies."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "If she really loves him, she shouldn’t be tearing him down like that. Because one day he’s going to be gone, and she’s going to regret all the harsh words and missed opportunities to show him she cares."

I had to admit, Christopher had a point. The dynamic we’d witnessed was troubling, regardless of Wanda’s tragic circumstances. I found myself thinking about my own mother, about all the things I wished I’d said to her before she died, all the moments of tenderness I’d wasted because I was too proud.

"She’ll regret it later," I said quietly, more to myself than to the group. "When he’s gone, she’ll regret not showing him how much he meant to her while she had the chance."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I decided to change the subject to something that had been nagging at me since our arrival. "By the way, what was Martin talking about earlier when he mentioned something about destroyed gates?"

Margaret, who had been quietly observing our conversation from a nearby seat, approached our circle and settled down with the careful movements of someone whose joints protested such activities. Her expression grew grave as she prepared to explain.

"Oh yes, the gates," she said, her voice taking on the weary tone of someone delivering bad news. "It happened two days ago. The gate leading to the courtyard—were suddenly brought down in the middle of the night."

She paused, running a hand through her gray hair. "We had reinforced those gates just last month. Steel bars, concrete barriers, everything we could think of to keep the infected out. They were solid, built to last. And then, overnight, they were just... destroyed."

"Destroyed how?" I asked,.

"We were woken up by this tremendous sound—like an explosion, or maybe like a building collapsing. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing left but twisted metal and rubble. It was as if someone had detonated some kind of bomb right at the base of our defenses."

I was speechless.

"A bomb? But who would do that? And why?"

Margaret’s expression grew even grimmer. "That’s exactly what we’ve been trying to figure out. We don’t know who’s responsible, and we can’t understand their motivation. But ever since that night, more and more infected have been gathering around our perimeter. It’s like they know we’re vulnerable."

She leaned forward, lowering her voice.

"Yesterday, the barrier on the south were also destroyed. Same method, same result—complete devastation overnight. The others are working desperately to reinforce our remaining defenses before nightfall, because that’s when they come."

"When who comes?" Rachel asked, not knowing if she was speaking of Infected or the people behind it.

"The infected," Margaret replied. "But here’s what’s truly disturbing—they don’t behave like the mindless creatures we’ve grown accustomed to. At night, they come in organized waves, coordinated attacks that feel almost... strategic. As if someone is controlling them, directing their movements."

She shook her head, looking older and more tired than her years. "It’s strange, isn’t it? Unnatural. The infected aren’t supposed to be capable of that kind of organization."

The infected being controlled?

My mind raced through the possibilities, none of them good. Either there was someone in this community like me—someone with abilities similar to my Dullahan virus—who was being hunted by the same people who had originally spread the infection. Or, and this possibility made my blood run even colder, maybe one of those people was already here in Jackson Township, orchestrating these attacks from within.

Don’t tell me my luck was so bad that I ended up getting near to the people I was wishing all my heart to not meet?

I felt my hands unconsciously clench into fists as paranoia began to take hold. Should we leave? Should we grab our gear and disappear toward another town already?

But then another thought occurred to me—what if this wasn’t about us at all? What if this was just human cruelty manifesting in a world without rules or consequences?

"This sucks," Christopher grumbled, voicing what we were all thinking. "Here I thought we’d finally found somewhere safe to rest, maybe even stay for a while."

"Yeah," I agreed, my voice heavy with disappointment. "After leaving New York, after everything we’ve been through, I really hoped we’d found a sanctuary."

But now we had an unknown enemy to consider. Someone—or something—with the power to coordinate infected attacks and the resources to destroy fortified barriers. If they noticed me, if they somehow detected my abilities or connected me, I didn’t want to imagine the slaughter coming.

Should we leave immediately? Pack up and disappear before we made things worse?

At last I, Rachel, Elena and even Sydney might have to leave but in that case Rebecca and Alisha will be also following.

No, I thought, shaking my head to clear it. Maybe it really was just a coincidence. Maybe this was nothing more than a group of survivors who had lost their humanity, attacking settlements to claim resources and territory. In a world without law or order, such things shouldn’t be uncommon.

But I had to confirm it.

A plan began to form in my mind. If I was going to make an informed decision about our next move, I needed more information. I needed to see these attacks for myself, to understand what we were really dealing with.

I didn’t want to take any risk.

Call me paranoid but I felt responsibility to the woman I had infected.

"Would it be a problem if I stayed here tonight?" I asked, the words coming out before I’d fully committed to the decision.

The reaction was immediate and startling. Christopher, Rachel, and Elena all turned to stare at me with expressions of shock and concern, as if I’d just announced my intention to walk naked into a horde of infected.

"R...Ryan?" Rachel stammered, her voice filled with worry and confusion.

Christopher leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What are you thinking, man? You want to stick around for the monster party tonight?"

Elena remained silent, but she was clearly as confused as the others.

I took a deep breath, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "I need to see what we’re dealing with. If we’re going to stay here, or if we’re going to leave, I want to make that decision based on facts, not fear or speculation."

"Yeah, but I mean, aren’t you exaggerating a bit here, man?" Christopher asked. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Look, I don’t want these people to get hurt—they seem like decent folks—but we’re safe in our house, right? It’s a good distance away from here, tucked away where nobody would think to look. We should be perfectly fine if we just lay low and wait this out."

He paused, fixing me with a direct suspicious stare. "So why exactly do you want to risk them finding us? Why put ourselves in the line of fire when we could just avoid the whole mess?"

His logic was sound, frustratingly so. In his mind, we’d found temporary shelter, these people had their own problems to deal with, and mixing the two was an unnecessary risk.

But he didn’t know about my power. He didn’t understand the implications of what I carried within me, the connections I might have to whoever was orchestrating these attacks. He couldn’t see the bigger picture because I’d never been able to share it with him at least for now.

He was waiting for a rational explanation, something that would make sense of my seemingly irrational decision to stay.

"You have a point," I admitted, running a hand through my hair as I wrestled with the decision. The smart play would be to leave with them, to put distance between ourselves and whatever was coming for Jackson Township. But the smart play wasn’t always the right play..

"You guys go ahead," I said finally, meeting Christopher’s gaze with as much confidence as I could muster. "It’s just for one night. I’ll stay here and try to figure out what the real problem is, then I’ll catch up with you tomorrow."

What I didn’t say was that I was essentially planning to use myself as bait. If the people behind these attacks were truly connected to me, to my abilities, to the larger conspiracy that had brought about this apocalypse, then they would definitely act if I remained visible and vulnerable. Despite the fear that thought inspired, part of me actually wanted to see them. I wanted to look into the faces of at least one of the bastards who had destroyed Earth like this, who had turned our world into a nightmare of death and mutation.

Meanwhile Margaret smiled at me. "Of course you can stay tonight. You’re our guest, and we’re honored to have you."

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I really appreciate the hospitality."

But before the matter could be settled, Rachel’s voice cut through the conversation in panic. "Wait... shouldn’t one of us stay with him? At least one of us?"

"Do you want to stay then, Rachel?" Christopher asked with a grin.

"I... I mean..." Rachel stammered, glancing quickly toward Elena as if seeking support or guidance. Elena was studying me intently, her eyes searching my face as if she were trying to solve a puzzle she couldn’t quite grasp.

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head before the situation could become more complicated. "You should all go. I’ll be fine on my own here."

The words came out more sharply than I’d intended, but I needed to be clear about this. If I was going to use myself as bait, if there was a chance that whoever was behind these attacks would reveal themselves, then I needed to be the only one at risk. I didn’t want to put Elena or Rachel in danger just to satisfy my own need for answers.

Martin, who had been listening to our conversation with growing concern, stepped forward with a helpful expression. "We can lend you a car for the trip back to your place," he offered, addressing Christopher and the others. "It’s the least we can do, considering how far you’ve come."

Christopher’s face brightened considerably at the offer. "That would be fantastic, yeah. Walking back all way there...well, let’s just say I’d prefer to have some steel and horsepower between us and whatever’s out there."

Martin chuckled. "You saved our lives today. Lending you a vehicle is hardly adequate repayment, but it’s what we can offer."

I felt a moment of relief knowing that they would have safer transportation back to our temporary shelter. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about them making the journey on foot to reach Sydney’s car which was quite afar.

"Then it’s decided," I said, turning to address Christopher directly. "Get them back safely."

Christopher met my gaze and nodded. "I got it, don’t worry." Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper that carried just enough edge to let me know he was concerned. "And you—don’t lose yourself in this weird community, okay? There’s something off about the whole dynamic here."

His words were barely audible, but apparently not quiet enough. Joel, who had been sitting nearby nursing his drink and his wounded pride, looked up with a sharp glare.

"I can hear you, brat," the old man said.

Christopher shrugged with characteristic nonchalance, seemingly unbothered by Joel’s irritation. He stood up, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting, and began preparing to leave. "Just saying it like I see it, old man."

As Christopher gathered his things, I noticed that Rachel and Elena both seemed deeply troubled by the decision. Rachel’s face showed open upset, her usual composure cracking to reveal genuine worry. She kept glancing between me and the exit.

Elena’s reaction was more subtle but somehow more concerning. She was frowning slightly.

She expected me to explain to her clearly.

She was smart quickly connecting the dots it might have to do with my power.

But...

Sorry, girls.

I don’t think you’re ready to face what I still haven’t faced, what I’m still afraid to confront myself.