Chapter 175: Margaret’s Doubt

“Finally, you’re back, Ryan!” Martin called out warmly as he spotted Cindy and me approaching across the overgrown lawn toward where the convoy vehicles were parked. “We were starting to think you’d lost yourself out there, wandered off so far you wouldn’t find your way back before nightfall.”

“I did go a bit farther than I’d initially planned, yeah,” I replied shortly without offering detailed explanation for why I’d ranged so far from the convoy.

“It’s still quite impressive that someone apparently has to babysit you at this point,” a distinctly resentful female voice cut in before Martin could respond. “You’re supposedly this powerful enhanced warrior who can tear through infected like they’re nothing, but you need a keeper to make sure you don’t wander off and get into trouble? Today it was Cindy’s turn—who will have babysitting duty tomorrow, I wonder?”

The speaker was obviously Rebecca, her tone carrying that particular edge of barely-suppressed irritation she seemed to reserve specifically for interactions with me. As always I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d done to earn such consistent hostility from Rachel’s younger sister, but she’d maintained this attitude of critical disapproval for weeks now.

I glanced toward where she stood about ten feet away, her posture radiating defensive aggression with arms crossed tightly over her chest and one hip cocked in a stance that screamed attitude. Her green eyes were narrowed as she stared at me with obvious displeasure.

When I held her gaze longer than she’d apparently expected—not backing down or looking away first like she probably anticipated—something shifted in her expression. Her cheeks suddenly flushed with color that spread rapidly from her face down her neck, and she broke eye contact first, looking away with what might have been embarrassment or possibly something else I couldn’t quite identify.

“Hmph!” The sound emerged as she spun on her heel and walked off with exaggerated dignity, her retreating back radiating indignation.

I watched her go with mild confusion about what exactly had just transpired. Had I inadvertently given her an intimidating or threatening look without meaning to? My expression might not look quite good since what happened at Jackson Township I guess.

“Did you two manage to find anything useful during your extended exploration?” A new voice joined our conversation as Linda stepped up beside her husband Martin, her approach quiet enough that I hadn’t noticed her until she spoke.

She was genuinely a nice person—kind, genuine, steady in ways that made her an excellent match for someone like Martin. They complemented each other well, their partnership clearly built on mutual respect and affection that had survived the apocalypse’s strain on relationships.

Even though they were both in their mid-thirties—old enough that most couples their age had children already—they remained childless. I’d initially feared the worst when I’d learned that, assuming their kids had died during the outbreak like so many families had tragically lost children to infection or violence during those first chaotic weeks.

But fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on perspective—they’d simply never had children before the apocalypse began. Maybe one of them couldn’t conceive for medical reasons, or perhaps they’d been planning to start a family later and circumstances had destroyed those plans. Whatever the explanation, it seemed like a genuine shame because I was absolutely certain that both Martin and Linda would have been excellent parents. Patient, nurturing, practical—all the qualities children needed, especially in this dangerous new world.

“Yes, we found quite a bit actually,” Cindy answered, her tone brightening as she shifted back to practical matters and away from the awkward tension Rebecca had created. She pulled off her supply bag—a sturdy canvas backpack we’d picked up weeks ago—and handed it to Linda along with mine, both moderately filled with various items we’d scavenged from the recreation center.

The bags weren’t packed completely full, but they contained useful materials: some non-perishable food items from staff break rooms, first aid supplies from the facility’s medical office, tools and equipment that might prove valuable, even some recreational items like books and board games that could help maintain morale during extended stays.

Linda accepted both bags with a grateful smile, hefting them briefly to gauge their weight before nodding with satisfaction. “This will definitely help. Thank you both.” Then she turned and walked off toward where other community members were organizing and cataloging supplies, probably to distribute the new acquisitions appropriately.

“You sure took unbearably long out there just to return with two barely-filled bags,” a familiar teasing voice drawled as Sydney approached with mischievous grin playing across her features. “You seemed quite… busy, weren’t you? Must have been very thorough in your searching.”

“W…Well, it was a big place to search comprehensively,” Cindy stuttered, her own cheeks flushing pink as she clearly picked up on Sydney’s implication. “Lots of buildings and grounds to cover. Very time-consuming.”

“A big place?” Sydney stepped closer to me with exaggerated thoughtfulness, her eyes scanning me up and down as if conducting some kind of assessment. Then she deliberately looked downward between my legs before her gaze flicked back to Cindy with obvious amusement dancing in her expression. “Certainly big enough, right Cindy?” The smirk that accompanied this question was absolutely shameless.

“Sydney!!” Cindy’s face went brilliant red as she grumbled with mortification, immediately reaching out to grab Sydney’s arm and physically drag her away from me before she could make any more embarrassing observations.

“Oops!” Sydney called out cheerfully as she allowed herself to be pulled away, waving at me over her shoulder with that mischievous smirk still firmly in place. She was clearly delighted to have successfully flustered both of us.

I sighed heavily. This woman was too smart in these kind of things. She would always know whenever I had sex or not and tease me and the concerned woman about it.

Then it was one of the reasons I loved Sydney I guess.

Turning back to Martin, I shifted to more serious concerns. “Is everyone back from their searches yet? Or are people still out exploring the area?”

“Not quite everyone has returned,” Martin replied. “Some groups are still checking houses in the surrounding neighborhood, including Rachel and Daisy’s team. They went a bit farther out to examine some of the larger residential properties on the township’s edges.” He paused, glancing toward the sun’s position to gauge remaining daylight. “Anyway, we’re currently planning to stay here a bit longer to let everyone rest and eat a proper meal, then head out toward Atlantic City around evening. Does that timeline work for you and your group?”

The question was phrased politely, almost hopefully—probably reflecting genuine concern that our group might decide to leave on their own rather than continuing to travel with the slower, more vulnerable Municipal Office community. We’d technically fulfilled any obligation to protect them during the exodus from Jackson Township, and Margaret’s people would understand if we chose to separate and pursue our own goals at better speed.

“I don’t have any problems with that general plan,” I said carefully. “But I think we shouldn’t have all fifty-plus people travel to Atlantic City at the same time. That seems tactically unsound given what happened at Long Branch.”

“You think it’s too risky to move everyone at once?” Margaret’s voice joined the conversation as she approached us, clearly having overheard the last portion of our discussion.

I nodded seriously. “There’s a significant chance that Atlantic City will be just as heavily flooded with infected as Long Branch was. Maybe worse, actually, since it’s an even larger urban center that would have attracted more people during the initial evacuation attempts.” I let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “Taking our entire community there without advance reconnaissance would be a potentially catastrophic waste of resources—fuel, time, vehicle wear, not to mention putting everyone at risk if we arrive and discover the city is completely untenable.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she processed this assessment, clearly seeing the logic but perhaps not immediately grasping what alternative I was proposing.

“This evening, let’s send a small scouting group to check Atlantic City first,” I suggested, laying out the plan that had been forming in my mind. “Just a few peopl who can move fast, stay hidden, and escape if necessary. We do a systematic reconnaissance—look around carefully, assess the infected presence in different quarters of the city, identify potential settlement locations that could be fortified, locate stores and resources we’d need access to, evaluate defensive positions and escape routes. Basically gather all the intelligence we’d need to know before committing to settling there long-term.”

I paused, watching Margaret’s face as understanding dawned and approval began replacing uncertainty.

“In the case that it’s like Long Branch—impossible to clear or settle safely—we simply come back here and find another solution without having wasted massive resources or endangered the entire community,” I concluded. “But if we find viable locations, we return with detailed information that lets us move everyone efficiently to the best possible position.”

I simply didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. We should learn from them.

Margaret nodded with visible appreciation. “Yes, that’s definitely a much better solution for all of us. More prudent and responsible than just hoping for the best.” She smiled at me. “And I assume you’re including yourself in this scouting group, as expected?”

I nodded. “Obviously I’ll participate, along with Rachel and the others with enhanced abilities. We can cover ground quickly, move through dangerous areas relatively safely, and make accurate threat assessments. Meanwhile, the rest of the community can settle into the houses around here”—I gestured toward the neat rows of residential properties lining both sides of the street—”and rest properly while waiting for our report.”

Most of those houses were almost certainly empty of living occupants, abandoned during the outbreak or evacuated weeks ago. The community could spread out comfortably, sleep in actual beds rather than cramped vehicles, maybe even find working plumbing if we were lucky. At minimum, they’d have shelter and space until we returned tomorrow with either good news about Atlantic City’s viability or bad news requiring alternative planning.

“Atlantic City is quite a large urban area,” Martin said thoughtfully. “Even with enhanced speed and capabilities, you might need a few hours just to check the major districts thoroughly enough to provide useful informations.”

“If we’re genuinely planning to settle there long-term, being thorough is absolutely necessary,” Clara said as she joined us as well, having apparently finished whatever task she’d been engaged with. “Better to spend extra time scouting properly than rush the assessment and miss critical threats or problems.”

“That’s right, but you…” I started to say, already anticipating where this conversation was heading based on the expressions I was seeing. I looked at Martin and Clara, both of whom were smiling at me. “Don’t tell me you two are planning to…”

“We’re coming with you,” Martin said, cutting off my protest before I could fully articulate it.

“Obviously we’re joining the scouting team,” Clara added with equal conviction.

I shouldn’t have expected anything different from those two, honestly. Martin and Clara had proven themselves repeatedly over these past weeks and months—they weren’t the type to sit back passively while others took all the risks on their behalf.

“We’re planning to settle in Atlantic City just like everyone else, assuming it’s viable,” Clara continued. “It would be completely unfair to leave all the dangerous reconnaissance work to you guys just because you happen to have supernatural powers. We’re not helpless, and we need to contribute meaningfully to finding our new home.”

I knew they probably felt guilty about what had developed over the past three days of travel—thinking they were using my enhanced group purely for protection and security without contributing equally to the community’s survival efforts. But we’d been willingly helping them throughout this journey, so that guilt wasn’t entirely justified or fair to themselves. Still, I could understand their genuine desire to participate actively in something as important as selecting and evaluating a potential permanent settlement location.

“Alright,” I nodded after a moment’s consideration, accepting their participation rather than trying to argue them out of it.

Martin and Clara had extensive scavenging experience even back at Jackson Township—they’d been among the most productive and reliable supply gatherers in the entire community. I knew from direct observation that they were both smart enough to act with appropriate caution when situations required it, and capable enough to handle themselves during infected encounters if they stayed alert and followed protocols.

And at worst, if things went badly during the reconnaissance, I would be there with my enhanced abilities. I could protect them if circumstances deteriorated beyond what normal humans could safely handle. The risk was manageable.

“Good, then it’s settled,” Martin said with visible satisfaction. “Let’s plan to move out right after we’ve all had a good dinner and some rest. Give everyone a few hours to recover energy before the scouting team departs.”

“I’ll go ready myself and gather appropriate supplies,” Clara nodded.

I mean, we still have time…

“I hope those two won’t be too much of a burden for you, Ryan,” Margaret said with a slight sigh as she watched Clara depart.

“No, those two would never be a burden,” I replied instantly and with complete sincerity. “Martin and Clara are competent, reliable, and experienced.”

Margaret’s expression softened into a gentle smile. “Thank you, Ryan. Once again, thank you for everything you continue to do for us.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “We’re all in the same situation here—all survivors trying to make it through this nightmare together…”

“Indeed, we are all struggling together in this collapsed world,” Margaret acknowledged. “But you and your group didn’t have to do nearly everything you’ve done for our community. You had no obligation to stay with us, to protect us during travel, to scout ahead and clear threats, to share your enhanced capabilities so freely.” She paused, her eyes meeting mine directly. “If your group had separated from us after Jackson Township fell and traveled alone at your own pace, you would have fared dramatically better. Faster travel, fewer resource constraints, less complicated logistics. You stayed and slowed yourselves down specifically to help us.”

“Maybe that’s technically true from a purely practical standpoint,” I admitted. “But I genuinely wouldn’t have felt good at all about abandoning you and your people to manage on their own. You were all incredibly welcoming to us when we first arrived at Jackson Township completely unprepared and ignorant about local conditions. Everything we’re doing now is nothing compared to that initial generosity.”

Margaret chuckled softly.”You really are remarkably mature for your age, Ryan. Level-headed, strategic in your thinking, genuinely concerned about others’ wellbeing beyond just your immediate circle.” Her expression dimmed noticeably as she continued. “Maybe you would be far more worthy to lead a community like this than I am.”

I widened my eyes slightly at her words.

“No… I would never possess your leadership qualities, Margaret,” I said. “Not in any meaningful sense that matters for actually leading a community successfully.”

Why was she suddenly speaking like this? Questioning her own fitness for leadership, suggesting she should be replaced?

The answer was obvious once I thought about it for even a moment: Jackson Township’s fall. Yes, approximately half of the Municipal Office community had been killed during that terrible night—among them clearly people she’d known for years or even decades, friends and colleagues and neighbors who’d trusted her leadership. The weight of those deaths must be crushing her, making her question every decision she’d made despite none of those losses being her fault.

“Your people need you specifically as their leader, Margaret,” I said to her with complete seriousness. “I’m still essentially a stranger to most of them despite traveling together these past few days. They don’t know me, don’t have history with me, don’t trust me the way they trust you. Leadership isn’t just about decisions or combat capability—it’s about relationships and trust built over years.”

I paused, then forced a slight smile onto my face to lighten the mood. “And besides, I would never possess even a fraction of your patience when dealing with people like Brad and his troublemaking faction. I’d have already punched him in the face or thrown him out of the community entirely by now.”

Margaret actually laughed at that observation. “I can definitely agree with you on that particular point,” she said with a rueful smile. “Your tolerance for antagonism and undermining behavior is considerably lower than mine.”

I smiled.

“You should go rest for a while before dinner,” I suggested, reaching out to pat her shoulder with gentle reassurance. “Get some actual sleep if possible. We’ll handle the remaining preparation tasks and make sure everything’s organized for both the scouting and getting the community settled into houses.”

“You’re right—I am exhausted,” Margaret nodded slowly.

She turned and walked away toward one of the houses where she could find privacy and rest, her shoulders perhaps carrying slightly less visible burden than they had minutes earlier.

I watched her leave with a complicated expression on my face, feeling genuine concern for her mental and emotional state.

Margaret was doing far better than most people would manage in her position, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t struggling under weight that would have crushed someone with less inner strength.

A burst of loud, mocking laughter suddenly cut through my contemplative mood, drawing my attention sharply toward its source about thirty feet away.

It was Brad and his two constant companions—Kyle and Billy, whose names I could barely remember despite having heard them dozens of times. The three of them were clustered together near one of the parked vehicles, with Brad sitting casually on a car’s hood while his henchmen stood flanking him like some kind of low-rent throne setup.

Brad was laughing—not the genuine sound of someone enjoying humor, but the loud, performative kind meant to be heard and noticed. The kind of laughter designed to mock and demean whatever they’d been discussing.

My expression darkened noticeably as I watched them.

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