Alan and the others rushed into the mansion. On the way, they didn't encounter any anomalies. The entire journey to the mansion had been quiet, so everyone made it there alive.
When Tommy saw all the people arriving, he approached Alan to speak with him privately and asked, "What happened?"
"I contacted a pilot, revealed my identity, and there's a good chance they'll send a team to get us out of here in the coming days." Alan had originally considered returning to the military, long before his brother died and the situation spiraled out of control.
Of course, due to his mental state at the time, he abandoned the idea of rejoining the military. But now that it seemed FEDRA no longer had control over the area, Alan was seriously thinking of going back once and for all.
"Joel won't like this…" Tommy didn't know what else to say—just the idea of being near soldiers made his brother sick.
"I'll talk to everyone about it. Whether they want to follow me or not will be up to them." Alan had enough on his plate with Tommy's brother. Whether he understood or not the difference between soldiers tied to FEDRA and those who weren't, Alan wouldn't care once he explained it to him.
Tommy looked at Alan's back, then at all the people entering, and said nothing else. The idea of continuing to fight to protect a place to belong to appealed to him, but none of it would be fulfilling if his brother wasn't part of that project.
When Alan entered the mansion, he glanced around and saw that the interior was well-decorated, with five bedrooms and two living rooms.
The main living room was equipped with a home theater, a 60-inch TV, and a set of sofas.
The survivors they had brought numbered fewer than ten, but they carefully sat down on the sofas when they saw a man holding a rifle, staring at them intensely.
"Are any of you infected?" Joel's voice was cold—he would definitely kill anyone who had been bitten without hesitation.
The entire group looked at Alan, and when they saw he didn't say anything, they quickly shook their heads.
"We haven't been bitten!"
"We're fine—I could strip down to prove it!"
"Do we need to get naked?"
"No one's doing that. But the moment any of you show symptoms of the virus, you'll be thrown out, and I won't accept any excuses." Joel looked at Alan after saying that, then sat down in a single armchair.
When Tommy came in, he looked at Alan and nodded, giving him space to speak.
"I'm going to make things clear from now on, so there are no misunderstandings later." Alan began removing the bandages from his arms as he spoke. "The world as we knew it is gone."
"There is no ideal world where everything will recover. You need to understand that the military is losing the fight against the virus. If they don't kill us, the virus will."
Everyone felt a chill run down their spines, their vision blurred, and panic began to set in.
All hope had faded. What remained was only darkness.
"What do you mean?" Raj didn't understand Alan's last words, so he asked, uncertain.
Alan looked at Claire, who was sitting among the crowd, and explained, "I think you all need to stop clinging to the idea that someone is going to save you. We're alone. And if we want to survive, we have to act like a unit—like an organized force."
After saying that, Alan stood in front of the turned-off TV, his bandages now hanging from his wrists. His tone grew harsher.
"There's a big difference between FEDRA's soldiers and us. They follow orders no matter how unjust, they torture, kill, and control. They're part of a rotten system that I see no future in. But those who choose to follow me—we'll fight to protect, to rebuild, not to oppress."
A tense silence filled the room. No one dared to speak against him.
Joel, for the first time, agreed with Alan. It was comforting to see that he understood.
"I plan to head to a nearby military base. It's not FEDRA. It's been out of their control since the outbreak began. I plan to rejoin the army—if any of it is still left. From there, we can organize resources, get supplies, set up a communication network and protection. But I'm not doing this alone."
A voice called out from the back, wary: "And how do you know they're not with FEDRA?"
Alan slowly turned his head toward the speaker, his gaze unwavering. "Because I'm still alive."
"If they're soldiers, they'll be the ones I trained—they'll know me. I know how they operate. I was one of them. And I know when something no longer belongs to the system."
Alan had realized all this when he didn't get blown to bits by that Apache helicopter, so he knew things could still be changed.
Silence returned, heavy as lead. Then Alan raised his voice for all to hear: "Anyone who isn't willing to follow orders and do what's asked of them can leave the group right now. No one is forced to follow me. But anyone who stays will be under my command. No arguments. No anarchy. This isn't a democracy. It's survival."
Claire lowered her gaze. Carlos swallowed hard—he now understood that Alan wasn't just any kind of soldier, but one who led. No one moved.
Alan looked at each of them, and though his eyes were stern, there was also a spark of hope. Not empty hope, but the kind forged in blood, will, and leadership.
"If you still want to live… if you want to protect what's left of humanity… then get ready. Because I'm going to train you. You'll learn how to shoot and how to kill. And only when you're ready—we'll get the hell out of here."