Zack's POV
As we entered the surveillance room. There was this eerie feeling to it. It was so quiet. The only thing you could hear is the humming from the computers running. Dozens of security cameras flickered between different angles — corridors, stairwells even hidden corners no human eye could reach. It was more advanced than I thought.
A large central console dominated the space, and there's something that looks like a gaming console. "What's that for?" I asked, breaking the silence in the room.
"Well, I tried using it before and it controls the cameras. Like I could rotate each one into different angles if I want to," Arya said. She gets the console and started manipulating it.
We stared into the screen, as if in an instant everyone got curious and leaned towards us, watching everything.
The monitors flickered as Arya manipulated the controls, shifting between different views of the building. The screens revealed empty hallways, abandoned offices, and stairwells swallowed by darkness.
Then, one camera angle caught my attention.
"Wait — go back," I said, leaning closer.
Arya adjusted the joystick, rewinding the feed to the previous angle. The camera displayed a dimly lit hallway, rows of lockers lining the walls. For a split second, something— someone —moved at the edge of the frame.
A shadow.
It doesn't look like a shadowborn.
More like another human.
I tensed, my fingers curling into fists. "Did anyone else see that?"
Clark's jaw clenched. "Yeah. What — nay— who the hell was that?"
Arya zoomed in, but the shadow had already slipped out of view. The screen now showed nothing but an empty corridor. My gut twisted.
Were we really alone in this building?
Before I could say anything, Jake exhaled sharply and turned his back on the screen. He said something that caught my attention.
"Guys, look."
He pointed towards a metal door on the other side of the room. Unlike the others, this one looked reinforced, as if it was meant to keep something out.
He put his ears closer to the door as if sensing if there is someone inside. "Feels like its empty."
"Let me try to open it," Clark muttered, running his fingers along the surface. Jake backed up, making a space for Clark.
Ellie frowned. "That thing's bolted shut. No way we're getting through without —"
Arya interrupted, "Come on, you've opened enough doors already. I swear to go —"
CRACK!
I froze.
Clark had gripped the handle and wrenched the door open with nothing but brute force.
Metal groaned, the reinforced lock snapping like a twig under his grip. The sheer impact sent vibrations through the floor.
I stared. "What the — how did you —"
Clark just exhaled, rolling his shoulders like it was nothing. "Doesn't matter. It's open now."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. No one questioned it further.
Instead, our attention snapped to what lay beyond the door.
Racks of supplies — canned food, bottled water, medical kits. A whole shelf stacked with ammunition and firearms.
For a second, no one moved. No one spoke.
It felt unreal.
In a world of chaos, where survival was nothing but a gamble, we had just found a goldmine.
Ellie let out a low whistle. "Holy shit."
Nicole stepped inside, running her fingers along the shelf, eyes scanning the supplies. "This… This could last us for weeks."
A rare flicker of relief passed over Clark's face. "At least something finally went our way."
For the first time in what felt like forever, we weren't scrambling to survive. We weren't running, bleeding, fighting for every breath.
For the first time… we could breathe.
Jake went first to see the firearms and ammunitions. Of course, he had to. It's the army in him.
I stepped further inside, scanning the shelves, my eyes sweeping over the neatly arranged supplies. Strangely, each shelf seemed to have only one item missing — just enough to suggest that someone had been here before. But if that was the case, they were likely alone, surviving off these resources by themselves.
Could it have been the figure we saw on the camera earlier?
I lingered for a moment, the thought unsettling. If someone had been here before us, were they still around? Watching?
Before I could think about it any longer, Arya and Ambrose's voices caught my attention from behind. I turned to face them.
Ambrose nudged Arya's arm with a smirk. "Guess we won't be starving anytime soon."
Arya chuckled, "Lucky us."
Something about the way they spoke — the way Arya smiled at him — made my stomach tighten. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but I felt it.
And I hated it.
The hell was this feeling? Since when were they this close?
I forced myself to look away, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn't the time to get distracted.
Clark and Nicole were murmuring about something, standing near one of the shelves. As I turned to them, I heard a name…Anna.
Nicole's expression darkened, and Clark's usually hard demeanor softened.
I hesitated, unsure if I should interrupt. Their voices were low, but the weight in their tones was unmistakable.
"She would've loved this," Nicole murmured, running her fingers over a can of food as if lost in thought. "Always said she hated scavenging. If she saw this stockpile, she'd call it a miracle."
Clark exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of a nearby shelf. "Yeah… but she's not here to see it." His jaw tightened, the usual steel in his eyes dimmed by something else — grief.
I saw the flicker of something else in Nicole's expression.
Regret. Or maybe… resentment.
"But, she made her choice," Nicole said finally, setting the can back on the shelf with a little more force than necessary.
The silence between them stretched. I was there when it happened. I've seen a lot of things in my life, but that was traumatizing. She had tried to take Nicole's body during the transmigration. Nicole had barely escaped — barely reclaimed herself.
Clark's grief came from losing her.
Nicole's came from surviving her.
Before the tension could thicken, Clark exhaled and shook his head. "I just… I wish things had been different."
Nicole's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah," she said quietly. Instead, she picked up a water bottle and turned it in her hands. "Me too."
For all the fights we'd endured, the monsters we'd faced, it was easy to forget that some wounds didn't come from claws or the trials — but from the people we lost along the way and why.