Chapter 176: Atlantic City Scouting Group [1]

The sun hung quite low in the western sky now, its golden light taking on that distinctive amber quality that characterized late afternoon transitioning toward evening. We were still positioned in Galloway Township, our convoy of vehicles parked along the residential street where we’d decided to establish our temporary camp.

By this point, most of Margaret’s community had successfully settled themselves into various abandoned houses lining both sides of the road. Thankfully, there were numerous residential properties available in this particular neighborhood—enough that housing distribution hadn’t required complicated logistics or difficult decisions about who got better accommodations. Everyone could claim their own space without conflict.

Rachel, Daisy, and several other search teams had systematically checked each house beforehand to ensure they were safe for occupation. Most properties had indeed been completely empty of threats, though the teams had apparently encountered some unpleasant surprises in the form of infected lurking inside a few residences. But nothing that proved particularly challenging for people with enhanced abilities and proper weapons—just routine clearing operations that had become almost mundane after months of apocalyptic survival.

After three exhausting days of awkward, uncomfortable travel—barely managing to get adequate sleep while cramped in vehicles, occasionally grabbing a few hours of rest in questionable buildings, constantly alert for threats, never truly relaxing—this was genuinely the first time the community had access to proper houses with actual beds to sleep in. Real shelter with walls and doors that locked, with familiar domestic spaces that reminded everyone of what normal life had been like before the world ended.

I was increasingly confident that my decision not to move the entire community to Atlantic City tonight had been absolutely correct, even though the coastal city was probably only about an hour’s drive from our current location. Everyone desperately needed this opportunity to take deserved rest and genuinely sleep after the sustained nightmare of Jackson Township’s fall and the chaotic exodus that had followed.

They needed time to process trauma, to recover physical and mental energy, to feel safe for a few hours before confronting whatever came next. Tomorrow they could face new challenges with renewed strength. Tonight, they simply needed to be human beings rather than desperate survivors.

The community had eaten their dinner earlier than usual—though ’dinner’ was perhaps too generous a term for what mostly consisted of canned food eaten cold or barely heated. But people had consumed their rations quickly, with an almost childlike eagerness to finish so they could hurry inside the houses and experience genuine comfort again.

The sight of grown adults practically racing each other to claim bedrooms and collapse onto actual mattresses would have been amusing under different circumstances. They were entering other people’s homes—strangers’ houses filled with abandoned possessions and the ghosts of previous occupants—but that didn’t diminish the comfort provided by familiar domestic spaces. Warmth, privacy, the security of four walls and a roof overhead... these basic comforts felt luxurious after days of exposure and vulnerability.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be enjoying that comfort tonight. I was committed to participating in the scouting group heading to Atlantic City for reconnaissance, which meant another evening of activity rather than rest.

"So you’re definitely going, and you specifically want Rachel to accompany you?" Christopher was the first to react.

We were currently gathered inside the camping van—the mobile living space that had served as our primary headquarters and meeting location since leaving Jackson Township. After waiting for all the search teams to return from their house-clearing operations, I’d assembled our inner circle to explain the scouting plan that Margaret and I had decided.

The interior felt somewhat cramped with everyone present—Christopher, Rachel, Sydney, Cindy, Rebecca, and Daisy all fitting into the limited space, some sitting on the U-shaped sofa configuration while others stood or leaned against walls and counters.

I nodded in response to Christopher’s question, my gaze shifting to Rachel where she sat on the sofa looking at me. "I’ll need your help specifically for this."

Rachel was always my first choice for operations requiring versatility and reliability. She possessed the greatest conscious control over her Dullahan abilities among everyone I’d stabilized—her barrier manifestation was precise and responsive. Those defensive capabilities could prove genuinely life-saving if the group encountered overwhelming infected numbers or other serious threats we couldn’t simply fight through.

But beyond the supernatural advantages, Rachel was also fundamentally stronger and more capable than ordinary humans even without invoking her Dullahan powers. Her physical conditioning was excellent, her enhanced senses gave her superior vision and situational awareness, and her combat experience made her reliable in crisis situations. Yes, Rachel was unquestionably the first candidate I’d mentally selected when planning this.

"I’m jealous you didn’t pick me first, Ryan," Sydney interjected with an exaggerated sigh, crossing one leg over the other in a dramatic gesture. Her tone was playful rather than genuinely hurt, but I recognized the kernel of real feeling beneath the teasing—she wanted to be useful, to contribute meaningfully rather than being left behind.

"Well, I don’t particularly want to force participation or demand that everyone come along," I replied. "This is reconnaissance, not a fight. Smaller numbers mean better stealth and faster movement."

"Didn’t you literally just force my sister into this right now?" Rebecca cut in sharply. She was sitting on the far end of the U-shaped sofa with arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression conveying disapproval.

I shook my head. "I don’t remember forcing Rachel to do anything. I asked if she would help, which is fundamentally different from coercion. If Rachel genuinely doesn’t want to participate in the scouting mission, then—"

"I will come," Rachel cut me off decisively. "Of course I’m joining the reconnaissance team."

"Big sister!" Rebecca immediately called out with obvious shock and dismay. She turned to stare at Rachel as if her older sister had suddenly started speaking an incomprehensible foreign language.

"What is it, Becca?" Rachel asked with a tired smile.

"I don’t know? Don’t you know how to say ’no’ to that guy for once?!" Rebecca’s voice climbed in both volume and pitch, annoyance bleeding through every word. "Just once, could you possibly refuse when he asks you to do something dangerous?!"

Well... I actually couldn’t recall a specific instance where Rachel had refused any request I’d made of her, so perhaps Rebecca’s anger about this pattern was understandable. The realization made me feel a sudden stab of guilt—was I taking advantage of Rachel’s reliability and willingness to help? Exploiting her loyalty without properly considering the burden I was placing on her?

Rachel sighed heavily, her expression shifting from gentle amusement to something more serious and slightly exasperated. "Why exactly should I refuse to help find a suitable location for our new permanent settlement, Rebecca? This benefits everyone—you’ll be living there too, don’t forget. And when people like Martin and Clara who don’t even have enhanced abilities are volunteering to participate in this dangerous reconnaissance, it would be absolutely unfair and cowardly for me to refuse just because I’m worried about personal risk. Besides, I have nothing else particularly pressing to occupy my time tonight."

"It’s not about fairness or having free time!" Rebecca protested, her hands clenching into tight fists where they rested on her knees. "This could be genuinely dangerous, you know that! And you’re just casually accepting it without even hesitating or questioning whether it’s worth the risk?!"

"After everything we survived and faced at Jackson Township—the Screamer, the Enhanced Infected, the complete destruction of our house—simply scouting around Atlantic City to assess conditions won’t be comparably dangerous, Rebecca," Rachel replied calmly. "We’re not planning to fight or clear the entire city. Just observe, gather intelligence, and withdraw if conditions are unfavorable."

"It could still be dangerous! You always say reassuring things like that, but everything always gets significantly worse than you expect!" Rebecca retorted. Then her glare shifted from her sister directly to me, pinning me with an accusatory stare that seemed to carry years of accumulated resentment. "Every single time!"

I could hardly deny the accuracy of her words regarding that particular pattern. She wasn’t wrong about the tendency for situations to deteriorate beyond initial expectations.

Everything did indeed always seem to get worse when I was involved. Plans that should have been straightforward became complicated. Threats that appeared manageable escalated into desperate survival situations. People I cared about kept getting hurt or killed despite my enhanced abilities supposedly making me capable of protecting them.

The pattern was undeniable when examined honestly...

"Rebecca, you need to stop being selfish about this," Rachel said, her tone taking on a slightly harder edge. "We all have to work together and take reasonable risks if we want to survive long-term. You can’t expect me to hide behind others while they face dangers on our behalf."

"S-Selfish?!" Rebecca’s voice cracked slightly on the word. "Yeah, it’s always me being selfish! Always me being the problem!" Her voice rose to something approaching a shout as genuine emotion overwhelmed her. "I just want my sister to stop constantly throwing herself into deadly situations just to please some guy who doesn’t give any real care about you beyond what you can do for him! He uses you like you’re some kind of robot—some tool to deploy whenever it’s convenient!"

"Rebecca!" Rachel’s voice snapped out sharply, actually raising in volume in ways I rarely heard from her usually calm demeanor and which had became quite frequent recently whenever she was handling Rebecca.

Rebecca physically flinched at her sister’s tone, her entire body jerking slightly as if she’d been slapped.

Her gaze found mine across the van’s interior, seeking... what? Validation? Anger? Some kind of reaction that would confirm her accusations about me being a callous manipulator who used people without caring about their wellbeing?

I stood leaning against the small sink with arms crossed loosely over my chest, my gray eyes meeting hers steadily but carrying nothing particularly notable in my expression. No anger at her insults, no defensive justification, no visible emotion at all really. Maybe showing emotions had became simply exhausting for me.

Maybe I’d simply gotten used to Rebecca’s barely-filtered hostility and thinly-veiled insults directed at me over these past weeks. Or maybe I recognized that she was fundamentally just a worried younger sister lashing out because she felt powerless to protect someone she loved. And she honestly wasn’t entirely wrong in some of her assessments—I did ask a lot of Rachel, did place her in dangerous situations repeatedly, did benefit enormously from her willingness to help without always properly acknowledging the costs she paid.

Rebecca stared at me for several long seconds, her expression cycling through emotions too quickly for me to fully catalog. Then, for reasons I couldn’t immediately understand, she bit her lower lip hard enough that I worried she might draw blood.

"W...why are you..." She started to say, but the words trailed off incomplete as if she couldn’t properly articulate whatever question or accusation she’d been formulating.

I raised one eyebrow slightly—a minimal gesture asking what she was trying to communicate.

That tiny response seemed to somehow make things worse. Rebecca’s face flushed with color, and her entire posture shifted from confrontational anger to something more like confused distress. She stood up abruptly from the sofa with jerky movements.

"I need to... I can’t..." Rebecca didn’t finish either statement, just turned and walked quickly toward the van’s exit, passing within inches of where I stood without making eye contact.

"Rebecca, wait—" Rachel immediately rose to follow her younger sister.

But before Rachel could descend the van’s steps to chase after Rebecca, I called out to stop her.

"Rachel—"

She turned back to look at me, and I saw her expression shift into something unexpectedly stern.

"I am coming on this. That’s final—no more discussion about it," she said curtly.

Then she turned and left the van to go after her sister, leaving me standing there processing that unexpectedly forceful declaration.

"Wow, managing to successfully anger both of the redhead sisters in a single evening—that’s quite the achievement, Ryan," Sydney said with an appreciative whistle, as if I’d just won some kind of dubious record for interpersonal disaster.

"S...Sydney, come on..." Daisy called out weakly from where she sat on the sofa. "That’s not fair to Ryan. He didn’t mean to upset anyone."

"Haha, anyway, it’s definitely becoming a predictable habit to watch Rachel following after an upset Rebecca to calm her down and talk her through whatever triggered the latest emotional explosion," Christopher osaid. "This exact scenario has played out what—five times? Six times now over the past months?"

"Yeah, and you’ve missed quite a lot of sister drama since you left to help the Municipal Office community," Cindy added with a sigh. "Rebecca’s been particularly volatile lately. The stress is getting to everyone, but she seems to be taking it especially hard."

"Well, she’s just genuinely worried about her older sister’s safety," Sydney said. "Rebecca doesn’t know how to express protective concern except through anger and criticism. It’s easier for her to lash out than to be vulnerable about her fears."

"Still... I-I think Rebecca is always unnecessarily mean toward Ryan specifically," Daisy mumbled quietly. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she spoke, clearly uncomfortable voicing criticism even of someone who wasn’t present.

"She’s a tsundere, that’s all," Sydney said.

Here we go again...

"Tsundere?" Daisy repeated, her head tilted slightly like a confused puppy trying to understand human speech.

"Forgot it already?" Sydney’s grin widened with the enthusiasm of someone about to share particularly juicy gossip or insider knowledge. "That means she secretly loves Ryan—like, a lot, probably more intensely than she’s consciously aware of—but she’s completely unable to express those feelings properly. She’s too shy and too proud to acknowledge her attraction, so it comes out as hostility and constant criticism instead. Classic defensive behavior to hide vulnerability."

"W...What?!" Daisy was genuinely flabbergasted hearing this interpretation, her eyes going wide with shock. Her entire face flushed pink as she processed the implications of what Sydney was suggesting about Rebecca’s true feelings.

"Ouch! Hey, Cindy!" Sydney’s explanation was abruptly interrupted when Cindy reached over and firmly pulled on her ear with enough force to make Sydney yelp in genuine discomfort. "That hurts! What was that for?!"

"Alright, let’s stop speculating about Rebecca’s psychological state and romantic inclinations," Cindy said, releasing Sydney’s ear but maintaining a stern expression. "We need to shift to more important topics." Her gaze found mine across the van’s interior. "Rachel is definitely coming on the scouting mission, along with Clara and Martin. Are you asking the rest of us to volunteer as well?"

I nodded.

"I’ll come," Christopher immediately raised his hand without hesitation.

"I’ll come too," Sydney also raised her hand enthusiastically. "I can evacuate anyone speedy fast with my superpower if we encounter overwhelming infected numbers."

"I can help as well," Cindy offered too.

"I... I will also come!" Daisy raised her hand too quickly.

I looked at each of them in turn before speaking.

"I’ll take Christopher and Sydney specifically," I said.

Cindy raised one eyebrow with visible puzzlement, clearly wondering why she was being excluded when she’d just offered to participate.

"Rebecca will be staying here at the houses, and it’s not sound to leave her completely alone without protection," I explained. "I want someone who can fight effectively—by which I mean someone with Dullahan enhancement—to remain with her just in case infected show up or other threats emerge while the scouting team is away."

And there weren’t a lot of people close to Rebecca except her sister and Cindy was obviously one of them.

"Oh, I see..." Cindy’s expression immediately cleared.

"Why are you looking so disappointed, Cindy?" Sydney complained. "You already had this entire afternoon doing... what did you call it? ’Stretching exercises’ with Ryan?" Her tone made the euphemism absolutely transparent, her smirk suggesting she knew exactly what kind of activities had occupied our extended absence.

"Stretching?" Christopher asked with raised eyebrow. "What kind of stretching requires hours in an abandoned recreation center?"

Cindy’s face flushed brilliant red as she suddenly lunged forward and caught Sydney in a chokehold from behind, one arm wrapping around Sydney’s neck while the other secured the hold. "You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut!" She groaned with embarrassment fueling her aggressive response.

Yeah, do it Cindy... knock her out I won’t complain.

"W..What about me then?" Daisy’s tiny, barely audible voice emerged from where she still sat on the sofa, almost drowned out by Sydney’s strangled protests and Cindy’s muttered threats.

I turned my attention to her, noting how she’d shrunk into herself—shoulders hunched, head slightly bowed, hands clutching her skirt with white-knuckled intensity. Since the events at Jackson Township—Jasmine’s death, the Enhanced Infected attack, the complete destruction of our settlement—Daisy had been speaking to me with this timid, fearful demeanor. Her voice came out barely audible whenever she addressed me directly, as if she was genuinely worried I might snap and hurt her for some imagined transgression.

Here I’d thought we had become quite friendly and comfortable with each other after two months of living together in the same house, sharing meals and conversations and the small domestic intimacies that came from cohabitation. But somehow recent traumas had shattered whatever rapport we’d built, leaving her scared of me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

"You know exactly why you can’t come, Daisy," I said as gently as I could manage while still being direct. "Until you’re capable of properly fighting and defeating one to several infected on your own without assistance, you should stay here where it’s relatively safe. The scouting will potentially involve combat situations where I can’t guarantee protecting everyone simultaneously. I need people who can handle themselves independently if we get separated or overwhelmed."

"T...That’s right..." Daisy nodded sadly, her gaze dropping to stare at her hands in her lap. The disappointment was visible in every line of her posture—she clearly wanted to contribute meaningfully, to prove her value to the group.

"Besides..." I approached where she sat on the sofa, then leaned down slightly to bring myself closer to her eye level.

Daisy raised her head to see me smiling at her—just a small, gentle expression meant to soften the rejection and show I wasn’t angry or disappointed in her limitations. Then I reached out and gently poked my finger against her broken glasses, specifically touching the cracked left lens.

"You can’t move around safely with compromised vision," I said. "One functioning eye and one blurred by fracture lines isn’t adequate for navigating urban environments full of threats. You’d be a liability to yourself and others, and I care too much about your safety to put you in that position."

"Ha..." Daisy let out the tiniest sound—something between a breath and a gasp—and I watched her entire face gradually turn pink, then red, the blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck.

I was probably too close to her, I realized belatedly. My face was only inches from hers, close enough that I could see individual freckles on her nose and the way her pupils had dilated slightly. The proximity was almost certainly making her uncomfortable given her general difficulty with men and personal space.

I took a quick step back to give her breathing room, watching as she seemed to relax slightly once I’d established more appropriate distance.

Daisy really wasn’t particularly comfortable around men to begin with, I reminded myself. She’d always been shy and nervous during interactions with male survivors, and my enhanced status probably made that social anxiety even worse. I needed to be more conscious of maintaining appropriate boundaries with her.

"Then it’s settled?" Christopher asked.

I nodded at him gratefully. "Yeah, the scouting team will be myself, Rachel, Christopher, Sydney, Martin, and Clara. Six people with mixed capabilities—should be sufficient for thorough reconnaissance without being so large that we can’t move quietly or quickly when needed."

"Hey! Morons!"

The shout came from outside the van—loud, aggressive, provocative in tone and word choice. The voice was immediately recognizable...

My expression immediately shifted from relaxed to stern, a frown settling across my features. I knew exactly who that was before I even turned toward the sound.

I descended the van’s steps and emerged into the early evening light to find Brad standing about fifteen feet away, flanked by his two constant companions—Billy and Kyle. All three were fully dressed in what looked like preparation for travel or activity, wearing jackets and carrying packs meaning they’d geared up for some purpose.

Don’t tell me...