At night, they set up camp because they couldn't reach the dam, mainly due to complications along the road.
Besides the infected, abandoned vehicles were blocking the path for the larger trucks, and it was impossible to continue without them. These trucks were not only carrying fuel but also resources and people.
Alan spent the night on the roof of the tanker truck, holding his machine gun and scanning the surroundings through night vision goggles.
The physical training during this period had improved everyone's condition. Most importantly, it had enhanced Alan's ability to coordinate everyone's schedules on the fly.
He lay on the roof of the truck, covered with several thick jackets.
The only thing running through his mind at that moment was what the future held for him. There was only one way forward—fight with all his strength, stay on a straight path, and never look back.
Everyone would have a chance to survive, but no one would be there for those unwilling to make even a small effort. Those who die along the way are proof that this world has become cruel and horrific.
But no one could stop—not when it came to the fate of humanity.
"I need to sleep," Alan told himself. Why worry about so many things? He would just focus on living for today and preparing for tomorrow, since even he could die at any moment.
What Alan didn't know was that while he slept, the fog had thickened during the night. In the distance, hidden beyond what he could see, infected began to appear in the mist—Stalkers, the most troublesome ones so far.
In the fog, their skin was covered in fungi of various sizes, and their sensitivity to sound was increasing. The grinding of their teeth, the occasional spasms—they were all clear signs that the fungus inside them was evolving.
Alan didn't know what they might turn into next, which is why he burned every body left behind.
In enclosed spaces, he wore a full-face mask. It was uncomfortable, but necessary—he couldn't risk infection.
With their speed, intelligence, and stealth tactics, Stalkers were extremely dangerous enemies.
In the fog, some of the infected moved strangely. If one could see their legs, they would notice fungal growths protruding from them.
Was that a unique trait of evolution? Their legs had become thicker, and some of their toes had pierced through their worn shoes.
Other infected had thickened arms, with bone fragments sticking out abnormally. Suddenly, one of them spread its arms and tore its chest clothing open, revealing dead flesh covered in layers of fungus.
Due to the low human presence, the infected began moving in all directions—not searching, but hunting those they had yet to infect.
Over time, the fog reached its peak. It was so dense that people couldn't see more than three meters ahead. Of course, without lights, seeing anything in the dark was impossible.
But the infected were unaffected by the fog.
They remained silent until a stray cat jumped over a wall. Instantly, the infected moved, rushing toward a small building.
Some of them had noses twitching strangely. After a while, they were the first to stop. Slowly, all of them exited the building and stood still again in the thick, excessive fog.
Alan had already fallen asleep. No one knew what caused these anomalies, but many blamed the bombs that had burned entire cities.
…
The next day, everything seemed normal.
After scouting the area on foot to assess their situation, Alan suggested that the civilians kill an infected using a machete.
This suggestion was strongly rejected by most of them.
But Alan wasn't going to let the opportunity slip.
In no time, he brought in an infected whose hands had been cut off.
"Can't fight? Looks like you still don't understand what's coming. So let me put it as gently as possible," Alan said, pointing to the infected. "Fight now or you're no longer with us."
He pointed at them all and said, "Look around you. You outnumber it. Just grab any weapon and come kill this infected."
After his persuasion, everyone gave it a try.
One of the survivors took a machete and struck, cutting through half of the infected's cervical spine—but the weapon got stuck.
Alan watched the scene in silence. He had expected much more from the average people who had survived until now.