"They're both dead, Cass!" Octavia growls. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but every time you say that Uncle Tommy 'disappeared,' it does nothing but get my hopes up! And Mom? She sent us on a suicide mission. I just want us to be somewhere safe."

I sigh, rubbing my eyes. It doesn't matter how many times we have this conversation or how many times she says she won't bring it up again; she always asks the same thing over and over. 

"We don't know that they're dead," I say gently. "We never found Uncle Tommy's body, and there's no way for us to know for sure that Mom is dead. Hell, for all we know, she probably thinks we're dead since we've been taking so long to get to her." Octavia crosses her arms, knowing that she won't get her way just by pouting. "Hiding away from responsibility, especially one as big as this one, would be suicide."

"Sure," she spits. "Whatever, fine." 

"You understand?" 

"Yes, I fucking understand; I just said 'sure,' didn't I?" 

I glance at Felix, who only shrugs sympathetically. I know well enough not to press my sister further; otherwise, we'll never leave this shed again, so I opt to sit in silence. 

An hour or two pass before we hear footsteps approach the shed at last. The heavy clank sounds once more, and the door opens with Leon standing in the light that floods in, flanked by Danielle and Josh. Immediately, my irritation returns, though my mask of calm, cool, and collected falls back into place. 

Leon greets us with, "How's your head?" I stare up at him, quiet as Josh closes the doors after the trio enters. 

With the doors closed, I take a breath and answer with a quick, "It's fine."

Leon nods at my non-answer as he leans against the wall opposite of me, crossing his arms. "I'm glad to hear it. Why don't we start off with some proper introductions? I am Leon, the leader of Camp Cottonwood. These two are my lieutenants, Danielle and Josh."

"Is this some sort of military camp or something?" I ask slowly, noting that Danielle and Josh are definitely not wearing military fatigues. 

"A refugee camp, actually," Leon answers. "We've been trying to fly under the radar of some rather distasteful individuals." 

"The Widows," I establish. "Yeah, we know about them, too."

"Then you understand our caution."

"I do understand," I reply shortly, "and I hope you understand my caution, all things considered."

Leon nods. "I know this is a difficult situation for you to be in, and I admire and appreciate your cooperation. Unfortunately, I have some questions and inquiries for you before I can let you leave." 

Suppressing a groan with a deep breath, I slowly close my eyes and flash a tense smile his way. "Well, we know you aren't with the Widows, and you know that we aren't with the Widows. What else do you need to know?" 

"I simply want to know what brought you and your family all the way out here, Cassandra." 

My skin prickles as my name leaves his lips, a chill running up my spine and making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. 

"How the fuck do you know my name?" Dropping the niceties entirely, I stiffen, prepared for a brawl. 

'Does he know about the locket?! How could he know?! Shit, this was a mistake, we have to leave!'

Danielle and Josh seem just as surprised at the revelation, both of their attentions snapping directly to their leader, and Danielle watches between Leon and me. 

"How do you know them?" Danielle ventures. 

"I was friends with their uncle and father, and eventually, their mother," Leon answers, eyes never leaving me. "Thomas spoke highly of his nieces and nephew every chance he got when we were deployed." 

"Funny," my laugh is humorless, "Because he never mentioned you at all."

"I'm not surprised," Leon notes. "The branch we served swore us to secrecy." 

"And what branch was that?" I demand. "Uncle Tommy wasn't military." 

Leon simply smiles at that, nodding. "There is a lot about your uncle Thomas that you weren't made aware of on purpose, Cassandra. Otherwise, there would be no point in being sworn to secrecy."

"If you know so much about me and my family, why are we being detained and interrogated?" I demand. 

Leon sighs, rubbing the back of his head. "You aren't being detained and interrogated," he says as Josh and Danielle exchange skeptical looks, still reeling from the fact that their leader seems to know us. "I simply want to make sure that the family of my best friend is safe and well cared for." 

"Oh, we've been well cared for, alright," I quip. "I'll even leave you a glowing, five-star review. You can see that we're fine, so why are we really here?"

"I think it would be safest for you and your family if you stayed here for a little while, at least until you can get back on your feet. You still haven't answered my question, regardless." 

"I answered every question you asked me," I return, stepping protectively in front of my siblings, glaring at Leon. "I've been upfront and honest this whole time; I think the least you owe me is the same courtesy. How do you know my family?" 

Leon nods, his expression conveying that he acknowledges that I have a point, and he begins to dig in his pockets. “No, not there… nope, not that one either… Ah, here we are," he says, pulling out a small, slightly crinkled Polaroid and offering it to me. "One of the very few photos we took together, your uncle and I. This was at your parents' wedding, I believe." 

Danielle and Josh's eyes look like they're about to abscond from their heads entirely as I snatch the photo from Leon's grip and look it over, my siblings climbing over my shoulders to look at it. 

The picture is dirty and a little faded, but I can easily make out the figures of Uncle Tommy, Mom, Leon, and the man who sired my sister and I. Dressed in a regal white ball gown, Mom sits in the center of the frame, her back rigidly straight in the little chair with her long, wavy dark hair done up in a braided bun, and a Mona Lisa-esque smile on her ruby-red painted lips. To her left stands Uncle Tommy, his long hair pulled in a half-done ponytail and the top few buttons of his suit undone in the casual-formal attire I've known him to wear. To Mom's right stands Leon, a serious look on his face and missing the scar that now mars his mouth and nose. Dressed in military formal wear from what I would guess to be either army or air force - they all look the same to me - he stands with both of his hands in front of them, one folded neatly over the other, and his shoulders squared. Finally, and to my dismay, behind Mom sits David, her husband, the man who sired my sister and me, the 'father' who despised Felix since his adoption, and the reason for Mom's misery. He stands with a smug and knowing grin on his face, his hands placed possessively on Mom's shoulders, and he looks as though he just walked off an awards ceremony for World's Worst Father, medals of all sorts decorating his formal military-esque fatigues. 

Felix is the first to break the silence. "Mom looked beautiful… How have we never seen this photo before?" 

"The wedding between your parents was a private affair," Leon explains as I hand the photo to my siblings for them to look over. 

"Why?" I demand. 

"Because it was company sponsored, and again, we were sworn to secrecy." 

"It's the zombie apocalypse, Leon; if you want me to answer your questions, you're gonna have to start answering some of mine. What company would sponsor our mom's wedding like this?" 

"Atlas Pharmaceuticals." 

I pause, baffled. "Why? Mom worked at the CDC, and David and Tommy worked for some private construction contractors. Why would the world's largest pharmaceutical firm want to sponsor a civilian wedding? And why are they wearing military formal wear?" 

"Because that was the company your father and uncle worked for, and by extension, myself." 

"They're a pharmaceutical firm, not a military branch," I counter. "You still didn't answer my question about the fact that you all look like decorated war heroes." 

Leon sighs, shrugging. "With a company as large as that with sensitive assets and research kept under lock and key, Atlas also had an advanced security system in place with private officers such as myself, your father, and uncle to keep their facilities safe. Since we, of course, can't tell the general public company secrets, the general cover for our line of work falls under 'military branch' or 'private contractor' as a means of keeping ourselves and our families safe." 

'So then why the hell is this guy acting like Atlas is still around to court martial him for blabbing about his job?'

The odd turn of events that led my family and I to meet a supposed 'family friend' is certainly one of pure chance. Under normal circumstances, I would be glad to meet someone who was close to my mother and uncle, if only to try and wrangle some family stories out of them that I otherwise could not get from my own family. Considering, however, that we're four years deep at the end of the world, and some strange man is claiming to know our family rather intimately and is trying to convince us that our parents and uncle had been lying to us this whole time, my skepticism has only grown larger.