Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 77: _ We Find Who First?

Trish is not just throwing out an idea. She’s putting something together.

I swallow. "No. No, that’s not it. They wouldn’t..."

And then the realization crashes in like a rogue wave. One of them must’ve heard my conversation with Lucas.

The stash. They took the kid because they wanted the stash.

I nearly shout. "Shit!"

Dom stares. "What?"

"One of the cannibals must’ve heard me and Lucas talking last night. About the supply spot. The rendezvous was where his group kept their supply which was supposed to be a meeting point for when they ever got separated. They took him to lead them to it."

Trish lets out a furious breath. "Of course. That crazy leader guy... what’s his name? Wormy little face, always chewing something."

"Bran?" Dom offers.

"Yeah, Bran. I remember he kept glancing over here while you two were talking."

I curse again. The noise echoes off the cave walls like an accusation.

I should’ve known better. Should’ve waited until morning. Whispered quieter. Tied Lucas to a boulder, maybe.

Trish runs both hands through her mess of hair, pacing. "Okay, okay, think. They took our weapons. They took the kid. That means they’re heading to the stash right now."

"Three miles," I mutter. "That’s all. If they left before dawn, they’ve got a head start. The fucking kicker is we don’t even know where the stash is except for the little detail Lucas told me and that it’s in the city."

Dom groans. "And we’ve got no weapons."

"Correction," Trish says, patting her boot and pulling out a rusty shiv the size of a butter knife. "We’ve got one weapon. And it’s as deadly as a strong suggestion."

"Great," I say, rubbing my temples. "We’re going to save a kid with a potato peeler."

Trish looks at me with a tight jaw. "What do we do?"

I think of Lucas’s wide eyes. The way he picked at his sleeves like unraveling them would hold him together. He’s just a kid. A scrawny, scared kid who didn’t ask for any of this.

I exhale, steadying the fire in my chest. "We go after them."

"With what?" Dom exclaims. "We’re down weapons, outnumbered, and we don’t even know what route they took!"

"We know the end location," I snap. "That’s enough."

Trish nods. "If we move fast, we might catch up before they get there."

"And if we don’t?" Dom asks.

My jaw clenches.

"If we don’t," I say, "then we find new weapons along the way. Rocks. Sticks. I’ll fight with my damn fists if I have to."

Trish claps a hand on my shoulder. "That’s the spirit."

Dom mumbles, "Or the beginning of a very short funeral."

I glance toward the mouth of the cave. The morning sun is starting to rise, illuminating shadows on it and painting the world in bruised gold.

"What do we do about Benji?" I sigh, asking the question we have been trying so hard to evade.

During the battle with the horde, I’d told him to save the cannibal kids. However now, no one knew if he or the kids had survived and we are miles away from them.

Trish folds her arms and plants her feet like she’s bracing for a sandstorm. Her voice is quiet, but she’s got that razor-edged tone she gets when she’s about to say something no one wants to hear.

"I hate to say it," she starts, "but I doubt Benji made it."

It’s like she punched the words straight into my gut. I blink at her, and the cave suddenly feels colder, the damp air biting at my skin like a thousand little gnats with ice teeth.

Dom groans behind us. "Then maybe we should go check. I mean—come on, we’re gonna chase after some stranger kid who might already be cannibal jerky while our actual guy, Benji, might be out there bleeding in a ditch?"

I inhale slowly, grinding the heel of my hand into my temple. My brain is already warring with itself, like two wolves fighting over the last bone.

"Lucas isn’t just some stranger kid," I mutter. "He knows where his people left their stash. I remember what he told me last night; it’s enough supplies to feed an entire camp. We’re talking food, meds, maybe even clean water."

"Maybe," Trish says flatly.

I ignore her. "If we get to that stash, we can bring something real back home. Maggie can eat something that’s not half-moldy crackers or dried rat stew. Everyone back at base gets a break from starvation. It’ll mean something. And Benji..." I pause. "When we find him, we can show him it wasn’t all for nothing. All that risk? It got us somewhere. He’ll be happy to know we actually made it count."

Trish shakes her head, tight-lipped. "That’s if he’s still alive by then."

"And if we go looking for him without supplies and get picked off one by one, what then?" I snap.

They are making me seem like some bad guy who doesn’t want to save Benji with their unwillingness. However, I was not remorseful because no matter the circumstances, Maggie comes first.

I’d risk anything to return home to my daughter with those bags of supplies.

Dom sighs and hunches his shoulders like a guilty dog. "It’s just... it feels wrong. Running off after this Lucas kid when Benji’s our own.

I shake my head. "He’s not just any kid, Benji. He’s the kid who will lead us to supplies. Real supplies. If what he said is true, his group’s stash is enough to cement this whole mission. We find it, we go back to base full-handed. We survive. All of us. Everyone waiting at home—including my kid gets to eat."

Dom scoffs, plopping onto a rock like a sack of potatoes. "You wanna risk everything for a scrawny weirdo with twitchy eyes?"

"He’s not twitchy," I say, though he is. "He’s just traumatized. And maybe a little malnourished."

"He’s a lot malnourished," Trish mutters. "Looks like he could be taken down by a breeze."

I sigh. "Look, I get it. He’s not ours. But he knows something. He’s useful."