Chapter 53: Blonde hair, blue streak

Terri’s fingers brushed over cold metal, her touch reverent—almost careful. The tank loomed over her like a slumbering beast, its armored plates scarred and dulled with age. Oil stains darkened the ground beneath it. The faint smell of rust and fuel hung heavy in the air.

“This is incredible…” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

A man leaned casually against the tank’s side, boots crossed at the ankles. His eyes glittered with pride, sharp and predatory, arms folded across his chest. He claimed the tank without needing words.

Dirty leather jacket. Marina shirt beneath, faded and torn at the collar. Hair slicked back with grease that hadn’t been washed out in days.

A greaser. Every inch of him.

“I’m the one who usually operates this baby,” he said, lips tugging into a smug grin.

Terri glanced at him, then back at the tank.

“Against what?” she asked, a spark of excitement slipping into her voice before she could stop it.

The man didn’t answer right away.

Silence stretched.

“…Just intimidation,” he said finally. “Nothing yet.”

“Oh.” Terri’s shoulders dipped slightly.

She frowned, hands returning to the metal, palms pressing flat as if she could feel the power buried inside it.

The man watched her closely now.

Too closely.

Like he wanted to say something else— but whatever it was, it stuck in his throat.

“Hey, are you—”

“How did you guys manage this?” Terri cut in quickly.

The man stiffened.

“Well…” He shifted his weight. “Hailey and a few others took it off an abandoned military base.”

Terri’s hands paused.

Recognition flickered in her eyes.

“I see.”

The air thickened. Awkward. Heavy.

The smugness slowly crept back onto the man’s face like armor snapping into place.

“Yeah,” he said, confidence swelling again. “You could say we’re pretty untouchable because of this bad boy. No one in America has the balls to mess with us. Not even the infected.”

He ran a hand through his slicked hair, looking at her like he expected awe.

Terri smiled— but it was thin. Cracked. Polite in the way fear sometimes is.

Yet before she could speak—

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

The voice slid in smooth and sweet.

Cherie’s.

Terri froze.

Cherie stepped closer, expression calm, eyes sharp with something poisonous beneath the surface.

“I’ve got a couple friends, see,” she continued lightly, glancing at the tank.

“And this hunk of junk? It’s basically pocket change to people like them.”

The man’s grin faltered.

Just for a moment.

Then he scoffed. “You’re obviously bluffing. We—”

“Oh, but I’m not.” Cherie smiled.

Not kindly.

“Yeah? And what makes you think they ain’t gonna cry when they see this thing roll up?”

Cherie smiled wider.

“Nah, they’d laugh.”

She tapped the tank lightly with her knuckles.

“Then they’d crack it open. Drag you out by your ankles. Take every gun you’ve got. Every round. Every toy you think makes you important.”

The man’s pulse quickened.

“And after that?” she continued calmly. “They’d line your people up. Shoot the ones who scream. Break the ones who don’t.”

Terri felt her stomach twist.

“This clubhouse would be ash by morning. Blood in the dirt. Metal still warm.”

The silence was heavy and suffocating.

The man swallowed.

“Whatever. You’re fucking crazy, bitch..”

He turned and walked off, boots crunching hard against gravel.

Cherie watched him go.

“Fucking douchebag,” she muttered.

Then she turned to Terri.

Terri was staring at her— eyes wide, breath shallow.

“What?” Cherie said, brows lifting slightly. “He was bothering you, right?”

Silence.

“…Y—yeah,” Terri said quickly. “Uh… thanks.”

She turned and walked away, steps hurried.

Cherie remained where she was, watching Terri’s retreating back.

The faint smile on her lips faded.

Something like concern flickered across her face— then vanished just as fast.

Morning air slapped me awake the second I stepped out of the tent.

Cold. Damp. Heavy with dew.

The sun hadn’t fully risen yet—just a pale gray wash bleeding over the camp, turning metal and canvas dull and colorless. I rubbed the back of my head, fingers dragging through my hair like I could physically scrub the anxiety out of my skull.

It didn’t help.

Too much was sitting wrong in my chest. Too many moving pieces. Too many people pretending things were fine when they clearly weren’t.

My fingers slowly touched my bottom lip, tracing the faint sting that lingered there, as if I could still feel Lila’s lips pressed against mine. The memory didn’t sit right with me. The taste of Hailey’s blood in her mouth as well as hers. It was too jarring.

I never knew how to feel about that kiss. It had come out of nowhere, sudden and uninvited, yet somehow… charged, like static in the air before a storm. My chest tightened just thinking about it, a weird mix of something tender and something off.

“I don’t give a shit how you treat me anymore…as long as you keep saying those 3 magic words. I love you.”

I wanted to shove the thought away, slam it into a corner of my mind, but it lingered, sticking like gum to the underside of my brain.

God fucking damn it. My head hurts.

Ever since the other night, my group had been tense around Hailey’s people.

And honestly? I couldn’t blame them.

They kept their distance. Quiet. Watchful. Even when I tried to bridge the gap— tried to talk alliance, strategy, shared survival— it felt like pushing against a locked door.

I needed this to work.

If Hailey came through— if her people backed us, if those weapons were actually on our side—it would change everything. Defense. Mobility. Leverage.

Protection against the infected.

…And against the Crucible.

I was so deep in my own head that I didn’t even notice Terri until she was right there.

She nearly ran into me.

“Oh—morning, Terri,” I said automatically.

She didn’t look up.

Didn’t slow.

She brushed past me with quick, clipped steps, shoulders tight, jaw locked like she was holding something in before it could spill out.

No greeting.

No acknowledgment.

Just gone.

I turned, watching her retreating figure.

That wasn’t like her.

At all.

My brow furrowed as a cold thread of unease slid down my spine.

What the hell happened?

My gaze shifted forward.

Cherie.

She was leaning against the tank a few yards away, arms crossed, boot braced against the metal like she owned the thing. The massive vehicle loomed behind her, quiet and immovable, its presence alone enough to make people nervous.

My stomach dropped.

I didn’t hesitate.

“What the hell did you say to her?”

Cherie’s head snapped up. Genuine confusion flashed across her face.

“What?” she said. “I didn’t say anything. Some douchebag was bothering her, so I—”

“You stay away from her.”

The words cut through the air— flat, sharp, final.

“Understand me?”

Her mouth shut.

For a second, she just stared at me like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.

Then something in her expression hardened.

Her jaw set. Her eyes went cold.

Without another word, she pushed past me, shoulder clipping mine as she walked off in the opposite direction— away from the tank, away from Terri, away from me.

I stood there, frozen.

The morning felt quieter somehow.

Heavier.

Guilt crept up my spine, slow and unwelcome, settling between my shoulders like a weight I hadn’t earned the right to complain about.

I exhaled, long and tired, staring at the dirt.

It’s too early for this shit.

I rubbed my eye once, still standing there, when I felt eyes on me.

Hailey.

She stood near the edge of the camp, her injured hand cradled against her chest, eyes following Cherie’s retreating back. She wasn’t scowling. Wasn’t angry. Wasn’t offended.

She looked… intrigued. Like she’d just spotted something rare.

A man from her group passed close to me, slowing just enough to murmur under his breath, “She’s asking about that one. The girl with the blonde hair…blue streak.”

My stomach dropped.

I looked back at Hailey. She met my gaze and smiled—small, knowing, deliberate—before turning away.

And in that moment, I understood the mistake I’d just made.

I hadn’t shut down a problem. I’d introduced her to a new one she very badly wanted.

“What…?” I whispered to myself, almost dumbfounded.

“Why?”

“Said she doesn’t like loose cannons,” the man muttered beside me.

A pause.

“Said she prefers to deal with them early.”

Something cold slid into my chest.

Loose canon…?

If Cherie was targeted for that, then Lila definitely wouldve been too.

Unless that bite shook her up too much to deal with her too.

I scanned the camp instinctively. Cherie was gone. Not walking. Not lingering. Gone.

The tank sat alone now, silent and hulking, like it hadn’t just been the center of something dangerous.

My pulse kicked up. I turned sharply, searching for Terri next.

She was standing near the tents, talking to Aubrey. Too close. Too casual. Too unaware of what had just happened.

I shifted my focus back to Hailey.

Her eyes found mine immediately. She tilted her head, studying my expression, and smiled. Not curious. Not uncertain. Certain.

As if whatever she’d just set into motion was already unavoidable.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep