Graves Family - The Answer

The morning sun crept over the horizon, spreading sunshine across the train yard. Enola stirred, her eyes fluttering open as the first rays of light filtered through the terminal's grimy windows. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head, her long black braid sliding over her shoulder.

"Mama!" Grace's tiny voice pierced the quiet morning air, followed by Abel's whimpers.

Enola sighed but found herself smiling. "Coming, my little monsters," she murmured, swinging her legs off the makeshift bed.

As she rose, Eric's arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back down. His beard tickled her neck as he nuzzled against her. "Morning, beautiful," he growled, his hand sliding up her thigh.

Enola chuckled, playfully swatting his hand away. "Down, boy. The kids are awake, and I'm not in the mood for an audience."

Eric groaned, flopping onto his back. "You're killing me, woman."

She leaned over, planting a quick kiss on his scarred cheek. "Tell you what, big guy. When Danica's up, maybe we can sneak off to our private love nest," she whispered, nodding towards the train car they'd claimed as their own.

Eric's eyes lit up. "I'll hold you to that, Mrs. Graves."

Enola rolled her eyes, slipping on her worn jeans shorts. "Yeah, yeah. Now go make yourself useful while I wrangle the terrible twosome."

As Eric emerged from the terminal, squinting against the bright Colorado sun, he spotted Lewis perched atop one of the rusty train cars. The man's tattooed torso gleamed with sweat, his long dark hair tied back as he scanned the horizon, rifle at the ready.

"See anything interesting up there?" Eric shouted.

Lewis kept watching the distance. "All clear so far. "

"He is a man of few words," Eric said under his breath.

The smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, drawing Eric's attention to the fire pit. Danica stood there, her flowing dress billowing in the morning breeze, one hand resting on her swollen belly as she stirred a pot of what looked like oatmeal.

"Morning, Danica," Eric said, approaching the fire. "Smells good. Your husband's already up there," he added, nodding towards Lewis on his perch.

Danica glanced up at Lewis, her eyes remaining neutral and her mouth remaining in a thin line. "Yeah, he was gone before I woke up. Always on watch, that one." She turned back to Eric. "At least someone's pulling their weight around here. Unlike some people," she said, jerking her head towards the lean-to tent.

As if on cue, a muffled groan emanated from the tent, followed by John's tousled head poking out. "I heard that. And I'll have you know, I'm not sleeping. I'm conserving energy for our inevitable fight against the undead hordes."

"Sure you are, sleeping beauty," Danica retorted, rolling her eyes. "Now get your ass up and help me with breakfast before the kids start a riot."

John crawled out of the tent, stretching dramatically. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute. "Wouldn't want to face the wrath of the Graves clan on an empty stomach. Especially not the pregnant one."

Eric chuckled, shaking his head at the exchange.

Lewis's voice called down from the top of the train car. "Movement on the east road!" He looked through the scope of his rifle. "Single rider on a bicycle. Young guy, maybe early twenties."

Eric's jaw clenched. He strode to a nearby train car and grabbed a Smith & Wesson M&P15 Sport II rifle. As he gripped it, he said to John, "Get ready."

John rolled his eyes and sauntered to the grill to flip the sizzling bacon strips with a casual flick of his wrist. "Probably just some kid out for a morning ride."

The terminal door creaked open. Enola walked out, balancing Abel and Grace on each hip, their tiny hands fisted in her band t-shirt. Eric's eyes widened. "Enola, get back inside. Now."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Young guy on a bike, heading our way," Eric said, his voice sounding overly intense. "Please, just wait inside."

Enola sighed. "You're overreacting, Eric. It's one guy on a—"

"Enola," Eric cut her off. "Please."

With a huff, she retreated into the terminal, the door closing softly behind her.

As the cyclist approached, his features came into focus. He was young, Caucasian, with a patchy beard that spoke of a few days' growth. His light brown hair was tousled by the wind, sticking up in unruly tufts. Though lean, his arms showed definition as they gripped the handlebars of his sleek road bike.

When the rider was about a hundred feet away, Lewis's voice rang out. "That's far enough! Stop right there!"

The young man skidded to a halt, nearly toppling off his bike. He raised his hands, palms out. "I mean no harm!" he called, his voice cracking slightly.

Eric nodded to Lewis, then shouted, "Alright, come forward. Slowly. No sudden moves."

John piped up, "Should I arm myself?" Without waiting for an answer, he strolled over to a pile of toys and picked up a water pistol.

Eric's head snapped around, his eyes blazing. "For fuck's sake, John! Stop screwing around. This isn't a game."

John rolled his eyes dramatically but complied, exchanging the toy for an AR-15 rifle.

The cyclist inched forward until he was about twenty feet away. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I'm Harrison," he said, his voice trembling.

Eric's finger rested lightly on his rifle's trigger guard. "What do you want, Harrison?"

Harrison licked his lips. "I... I'm from the Silverthorne Militia. They sent me to..to get your answer."

Eric's brow furrowed. "Answer? What the hell are you talking about?"

Harrison's eyes darted between Eric, John, and Lewis. "The Silverthornes want you to join them. Said you had twenty-four hours to decide. That time's up."

John's eyes widened. "After what happened with those other two they sent… I thought they would attack already," he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Lewis's voice rang out from his perch. "Eric, should I take the shot?"

Eric's knuckles whitened around his rifle. "No! We're not killing the messenger." He turned to Harrison. "Tell the Silverthornes we appreciate the offer, but we have to decline."

Harrison blinked hard and shook his head. "They figured you'd say that," he stammered, his fingers fidgeting on the bike's handlebars. Without another word, he turned the bike around and pedaled away, tires kicking up dust as he sped down the road.

John turned to Eric, brow furrowed. "So, what now?"

Eric shook his head. "I don't know. Are they just going to keep sending passengers until we—"

A high-pitched whistle pierced the air, growing louder with each passing second. Eric spotted a rocket streaking towards them, a trail of smoke in its wake. His eyes went wide as he realized it was aimed at the building.

"Enola!" he shouted. "Get out! Now!"

The rocket slammed into the terminal's brick wall with a deafening explosion. Debris rained down, dust and smoke billowing out from the gaping hole left behind.

Eric sprinted towards the building, his heart pounding. Lewis stood on his knees, holding his scoped rifle. "Three tangos in the tree line! One's got an RPG!"

John's face contorted with rage. "Fucking kill them all!"

As Eric reached the terminal, Enola burst through the door, clutching Abel and Grace to her chest. The twins were crying, their faces streaked with soot and tears. Enola's wide eyes met Eric's.

"What the hell is happening?" she shouted, her voice trembling.

Eric grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the nearest empty train car. "Run! Now!"

Lewis's rifle cracked repeatedly as he fired at the distant figures. Another whistle split the air, and a second rocket slammed into the terminal. The explosion rocked the ground, sending everyone scrambling for cover.

"Get down!" Eric yelled, shoving Enola and the kids behind the solid steel of the train car.

Bullets pinged off the top of Lewis's perch, forcing him to duck low. John dove behind a stack of crates. For a full minute, the air was filled with the sounds of gunfire and the terrified cries of the children.

Then, as suddenly as it began, silence fell.

Lewis raised his head, peering through his scope. "They're gone," he shouted down to his family. "I don't see anyone out there."

Slowly, Eric emerged from behind the train car, his rifle raised. Enola followed, her arms still wrapped around the twins. Her eyes darted around the devastated camp, taking in the smoking ruins of the terminal.

"Eric, what are we going to do? We need a plan. Now. We either take out the Silverthornes, or we leave. They could have killed all of us. This was just to mess with us and let us know they are in control."

Eric ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, his mind racing. "I need time to think—"

"There's no time!" Enola shouted at him and grabbed his arm. "They could be back any minute. We have to decide. Now."

Eric looked at her and then at his family behind her. He shook his head. "I don't want to leave and don't want to join them. I want to fight. But we need help."