Chapter 445: Aftermath of the Boardwalk’s Screamer [2]

"We owe you a lot for what you’ve done for us," Marlon said quietly.

He stood beside Margaret near the edge of the Boardwalk, far enough from the busiest streets that they could speak without needing to raise their voices. From there, he could see the people of both communities gathered around the food Margaret’s group had brought.

Some sat on crates, broken chairs, or pieces of barricade wood. Others stood with bowls or plates in their hands, too tired to bother finding somewhere comfortable. Margaret’s people moved among them, passing out food, checking on injured survivors, and helping wherever they could.

Marlon’s people looked exhausted.

Their clothes were dirty from fighting, clearing bodies, and rebuilding the barricades. Some had blood on their sleeves that did not belong to them. Others stared down at their food without eating much, their minds still caught on the people who had not made it to the Emerald Hotel.

They had survived.

But survival had come with a cost.

At least they were not alone while dealing with it.

Margaret shook her head gently.

"No," she said. "It is normal to help each other."

Marlon looked at her.

"I heard your community went through something similar. That you had to leave your town because of an attack."

Margaret’s expression dimmed.

The warmth in her face faded as memories returned. She looked toward the damaged barricades instead of answering immediately.

"Yes," she said at last.

"Was it like this?"

Margaret gave a slow nod.

"We lost everything in Jackson Township," she replied. "A lot of good people died there."

Marlon’s eyes narrowed.

He looked over the Boardwalk again.

The damaged buildings.

The broken defenses.

The streets still marked by blood and wreckage from the night before.

"A weapon capable of flooding a place with Infected," he said. "It is beyond evil. There is no good reason to create something like that."

The Screamer had not been built to defend anyone.

It had not been created for survival.

Its only purpose was to turn settlements into feeding grounds. It pulled Infected toward a location, pushed them past their normal limits, and let panic finish the rest of the work.

Marlon had watched the barricades fail.

He had watched people run through the streets in terror while the Infected broke into the home they had spent months protecting.

The ease of it still made him angry.

It made him feel powerless in a way he hated.

Margaret nodded.

She had seen the same thing in Jackson Township.

"Thankfully, it was stopped," she said. "But we do not know when it could happen again." Her eyes moved back to him. "You are sure it was Callighan’s people?"

Marlon’s gaze darkened.

"I am."

He thought about Ryan’s words. Gaspar. Zakthar. The Three Stones Matrix. Callighan had not simply attacked the Boardwalk to cause damage. He had tested them. He had shown them how easily their safety could be taken away.

"I don’t think it will be long before Callighan tries something bigger," Marlon said. "Now that he has weakened us, he will probably prepare a full attack."

Margaret sighed.

"Killing each other like this..." Her voice became quiet. "The world may have fallen, but that does not mean people need to fall into this kind of cruelty too."

"Men like Callighan always existed," Marlon said. "Even before the outbreak. Now they have fewer rules stopping them, so they become bolder."

"That still does not make it right."

"No," Marlon said. "It does not."

For a while, they watched the communities work together.

A few people were carrying boards toward the damaged barricade. Others loaded Infected bodies onto carts to move them farther from the living area. Near the food, Clara was speaking to one of the older women from the Boardwalk while Linda handed out portions to people who had not eaten since the day before.

Marlon looked back at Margaret.

"Thank you again," he said. "But I do not want to drag your people any deeper into this fight between Callighan and me if I can avoid it."

Margaret’s eyes sharpened slightly.

"One of our people was killed by Callighan’s men," she said. "And Mei was taken by them."

Marlon stayed silent.

"We are already involved," Margaret continued. "Whether we wanted to be or not."

"It will not be for long," Marlon said. "We will end this. Callighan wants me. That is what matters most to him. Once this is over, your people should be safe."

Margaret gave him a small, tired smile.

"You do not need to worry about us so much."

"I do."

"I know." She looked toward where her community was helping the Boardwalk survivors. "But we understand what we are involving ourselves in. We are not going to abandon Ryan or the others. Mei is one of our own too."

Her hands folded in front of her.

"I cannot offer much in a fight," she admitted. "But I will help however I can. Food, shelter, supplies, people who need a place to stay. Whatever is needed."

Marlon nodded at her.

"You are a good leader," he said. "Your people respect you."

Margaret’s smile became faint though it held weariness and sadness.

"I hope so."

She turned and walked toward Clara and Linda, where someone had called for more food near the barricade.

Marlon watched her go.

Then a familiar voice called to him.

"Dad."

He turned.

Summer approached from the street.

Thankfully, she had been close to him when the Screamer attack began. Marlon had gotten her into the Emerald Hotel before the Infected could reach them, and he had kept her close through the night.

But she had not been the same since morning.

She had helped wherever she could, carrying supplies, checking on people, and bringing food to the survivors who could not leave their rooms. Yet a gloom stayed over her face. She looked tired, worried, and distant.

"Summer."

Marlon stepped toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

Then he pulled her into a gentle hug.

Summer hugged him back.

For a few seconds, she rested her head against his chest without saying anything.

Marlon held her there.

He knew she had seen too much during the attack. Everyone had. But he also knew her well enough to understand that something else had been troubling her since the night before.

"Did you get any news about Ryan?" She asked quietly.

Marlon’s expression turned dry.

He looked toward Christopher, Lucy, Rachel, and Sydney, who were helping move supplies near one of the cleared streets.

They had returned earlier and told him what happened.

Ryan had found Gaspar.

He had destroyed the Screamer’s source, stopped the Matrix from continuing its attack, and survived a fight that should have killed him.

But he had come out of it badly injured.

Summer had heard enough to understand that Ryan was hurt. The worry in her face had grown worse ever since.

Marlon nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I heard."

Summer pulled back just enough to look at him.

"Is he okay?"

"He is alive," Marlon replied.

It was the most honest answer he could give.

Ryan was still resting in the abandoned building where Christopher, Lucy, Rachel, Sydney, and Cindy had taken him after the fight. Cindy had stayed with him, watching over him while he recovered from his injuries and the anti-Symbiote blast.

Marlon kept one hand on Summer’s shoulder.

"He’ll be fine," he said. "Ryan’s a tough guy."

"I know." Summer gave a small, tired smile. "I’ve seen you beat him up during training every day, and he still gets back on his feet like nothing happened."

Marlon let out a quiet chuckle.

"He needs to learn."

"He probably thinks you enjoy it."

"I do not enjoy it."

Summer looked at him.

Marlon paused.

"...Not that much."

That earned a faint laugh from her.

It did not last long.

Summer pulled back from him and looked over the Boardwalk.

The afternoon light reached across the damaged streets, making everything easier to see. It also made the destruction harder to ignore. Broken barricades stood in uneven sections around the area. Some homes had shattered windows or doors torn from their frames. Blood still stained parts of the road even after people had spent hours cleaning.

And there were faces missing.

Summer noticed it every time she looked toward the people eating, repairing defenses, or carrying supplies. Someone who had always sat near the entrance of the hotel was gone. A woman who used to help Carmen in the kitchens when it came to cooking for them had not returned. One of the older men who repaired fences and doors was nowhere in sight.

Some people had died.

Others had not been found yet.

That was the worst part.

They did not know whether those people were dead somewhere beneath wreckage, hiding in a locked room, or wandering outside the Boardwalk alone with no way to get back.

Summer’s chest hurt as she looked at the damaged streets.

"Will we be alright, Dad?" She asked.

Marlon lifted one hand and gently patted her blond hair.

"We will."

His answer came quickly.

But his expression remained stern.

Guilt had been sitting on him since the night before, and no matter how much his people tried to tell him otherwise, he could not fully push it away.

Callighan had attacked because of him.

Because Marlon had reported him years ago. Because he had refused to look away from the illegal trafficking Callighan had been involved in, even when he had been under him.

Marlon had done the right thing.

He knew that.

But knowing it did not change the fact that Callighan’s hatred had found its way here. It had reached the people Marlon was responsible for. It had broken through the walls they had built and taken lives that should not have been lost.

If he surrendered himself to Callighan, would it end?

Would Callighan stop targeting the Boardwalk if he got what he wanted?

Marlon did not trust that answer.

Callighan had already gone too far. He had gathered criminals, armed them, taken control of Brigantine, and used Starakian technology to unleash the Screamer on innocent people. A man willing to do that would not suddenly become reasonable because Marlon handed himself over.

And even if Callighan did leave, what would happen to the people beneath him?

The criminals he had armed and organized could become more dangerous without a leader. Gaspar was still out there too. Marlon had only heard pieces of what happened during Ryan’s fight, but what he heard was enough.

There were too many unknowns.

Too many ways surrendering could make everything worse.

Marlon could not abandon the Boardwalk.

He could not abandon the people who had trusted him to keep them safe.

And he could not abandon Summer.

He looked down at his daughter and ran his hand once more through her hair.

"Ryan."

The voice came from behind them.

Both Marlon and Summer turned.

Ryan was walking toward them.

He looked rough.

Cindy stayed at his side, one hand lightly holding his arm to support him whenever he faltered.