The ragged looking survivors stood around Vlad and the teens in a semi-circle, their weapons aimed unflinchingly at the newcomers’ heads. “We’re not kidding,” snapped a short woman in a bloodstained Seabrook High PTA t-shirt. “Blondie, come with me and the girls. The guys will strip and search the rest of you.”

Beth stepped forward, and the woman grabbed her arm roughly, half dragging her around a corner and behind a partition. The two other female survivors obediently peeled off from the rest of the group and followed, leaving Simon, Jay and Vlad alone with five unsmiling, heavily armed men.

The tallest and broadest of them suddenly narrowed his eyes, having caught sight of Simon’s bloody arm. “Is that what I think it is, kid?” he growled, staring down the gun barrel into Simon’s face.

“Uh, this? N-no, no, I just — it was an accident,” Simon stammered. But before he knew it, two of the other men had pinned him to the ground. Now the big man had a knife in his hand.

“We have to be sure,” he snarled.