Brotherhood of the Last Shelter

The Stolen Truck

"Are you out of your mind, James?"

Donald stared at the black transport truck across the street. Two armed guards stood near its front bumper, chatting while smoke curled from their cigarettes. Behind them, the open cargo doors revealed generators, steel plates, and crates of water filters.

Everything we needed was sitting in that truck.

"Keep your voice down," I told him.

"Keep my voice down? Those men have rifles!"

"I can see that. We aren't going to fight them."

Donald gave me a doubtful look. "Then how exactly do you plan to get that truck?"

"You're a mechanic. Can you start it without the keys?"

He studied the vehicle for a moment. "Probably. But I'll need time, and I'm not doing it with a gun pointed at my head."

"Luggard will help you get inside. I'll distract the guards."

Luggard tightened his grip on the iron pipe. "And what happens when they notice we're stealing their truck?"

"We drive away before they can stop us."

Neither brother looked convinced, but we were running out of options. If Elias Thorne continued buying up every useful supply in the district, finding what we needed would become much harder.

A blue screen suddenly appeared before my eyes.

Quest Alert: Eliminate the hoarding group leader, Elias Thorne. Reward: Advanced Combat Skills.

I stared at the message in disgust. The system wanted me to attack a billionaire surrounded by armed men. Even if I somehow survived, I would gain nothing worth risking my brothers' lives for.

I dismissed the screen.

"There are some trash cans around the corner," I whispered. "I'll make a noise to draw the guards away. When they leave the truck, you two get inside. Luggard, secure the cargo doors. Donald, get that engine running."

"And you?" Luggard asked.

"I'll get into the back."

Donald caught my arm before I could move. "James, don't do anything stupid."

"I'll try."

I picked up a stone and hurled it toward the trash cans.

The crash echoed through the street. Both guards immediately turned toward the noise, and one of them cursed as he hurried around the corner.

"Now!" I shouted.

We sprinted toward the truck. Donald climbed into the driver's seat while Luggard scrambled in beside him. I reached the back and grabbed the heavy doors, pulling them wider so I could climb inside.

"Hey! You three!"

I looked over my shoulder.

One of the guards had turned back. His rifle was already raised.

"Get away from that truck!"

"Donald, start it!" I yelled.

I threw myself into the cargo space just as a gunshot rang out. The bullet struck the metal frame above me, sending sparks flying. I slammed one door shut, then wrestled with the other until it locked into place.

More shots followed, striking the truck's body with sharp metallic cracks.

Then the engine roared.

Donald had done it.

The truck lurched forward so suddenly that I crashed against a wooden crate. Pain shot through my elbow, but I barely noticed. The tires screeched as we pulled away from the warehouse.

I crawled toward the small window separating the cargo space from the driver's cabin.

Through it, I caught sight of Elias Thorne emerging from the store. His expensive suit looked out of place among the armed men rushing toward their vehicles. He pointed furiously at our truck, shouting orders I couldn't hear.

His expression told me everything I needed to know.

He wasn't going to let us escape.

The truck swerved onto the main road, forcing a car to brake hard. Horns blared as Donald pushed through the morning traffic, taking a turn so sharply that the crates slid across the floor.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Luggard shouted from the front.

"I'm trying to keep us alive!" Donald yelled back.

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

We had escaped the warehouse, and for the first time since waking up seven days before the apocalypse, I felt that we might actually have a chance.

"We got the supplies!" Luggard called through the window. "James, we actually got them!"

I looked around the cargo space. Steel plates, generators, and water filters filled the truck. With these supplies, we could reinforce our shelter and start preparing for what was coming.

Then a blue screen appeared in front of me.

Stolen resources detected. Store these items in your inventory. Warning: Unregistered items may alert hostile forces.

My smile disappeared.

I read the message again.

Unregistered items may alert hostile forces.

"What does that mean?" I muttered.

The truck bounced over a pothole, throwing me against the side. I steadied myself and crawled toward the nearest crate. Using a loose metal bar, I pried open the wooden lid and pushed aside the packing material.

A small red light blinked beneath a water filter.

I picked it up and turned it over.

A tracking device had been attached to the bottom.

My stomach tightened.

Thorne hadn't simply bought the supplies. He had fitted them with trackers, making sure nobody could steal his property without being followed.

And the system had known.

It had waited until we were speeding down the road before warning me.

"Donald!" I shouted, pounding on the window between us. "Don't take us back to the shelter!"

He glanced at me. "Why?"

"They've put trackers on the supplies. They can follow us straight to our base!"

Luggard turned around sharply. "Then throw them out!"

"It's not just one crate. There could be trackers on everything."

Donald swore and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Tell me where we're going, then!"

Before I could answer, sirens erupted behind us.

I scrambled to the small rear window and looked out.

Three black security vehicles had joined the road, pushing through traffic with their headlights flashing. Men leaned out of the windows, pointing toward our truck.

Thorne's men had found us.

I ducked as a gunshot cracked behind us, shattering the rearview mirror on the passenger side.

"James!" Donald shouted. "We can't outrun them forever!"

I looked at the tracking device in my hand, then at the supplies we had risked our lives to steal.

We couldn't return to the shelter, and abandoning the truck meant losing everything we needed to survive.

Then I noticed a narrow road ahead leading toward an old industrial estate.

I knew that place.

In my previous life, it had been one of the first areas swallowed by the monsters.

I grabbed the window frame and shouted, "Donald, take the next turn! I know somewhere we can lose them!"

He didn't ask questions. He jerked the wheel to the right, sending the truck hurtling toward the deserted road.

Behind us, the security vehicles followed.

And as we entered the industrial estate, something enormous moved between the abandoned buildings.