The Man Behind the Badge

I have five rounds in my magazine, which is not ideal when a horde of zombies is tearing into my makeshift gondola fort. The shrieking combined with the pounding of metal echoes throughout the store. I pat down my gun belt in hopes of finding a spare magazine, but it's like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Useless.

An assault rifle mag-dumps—and I freeze. I didn’t think it was possible to hear that sound come from any other weapon than mine. Not long after, low guttural groans and dull bodies hit the floor.

Silence.

Then—footsteps. But not the dragging shuffle of a zombie—no. These were slow. Deliberate. Human.

I raise my pistol in the direction of the steps with bated breath.

Two pairs of eyes stare back at me, and I let out a gasp.

“Drop the gun,” a shaky but firm voice commands.

I narrow my eyes—then they widen. Between the gondola holes stands two women who look about my age.

“She said drop it,” the other voice says, steadier now. A safety clicks off—and that’s enough for me to drop my pistol. My hands rise slowly, trembling. The gondolas scrape against the floor as dust drifts in the thin beam of sunlight.

I swallow, forcing myself to look up. That’s when I see them.

One woman has curly black hair, warm brown skin, and ruthless doe eyes. The other has straight brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale skin, and small but piercing brown eyes.

“Oh, get a load of this. We found ourselves an officer,” the woman with the ponytail says. She leans in closer, squinting her eyes. “F. Blackwood, is it?”

“Officer Blackwood,” I hesitantly correct her.

The curly-haired woman cackles. “Officer? Let me ask you something, ‘officer.’” She spits the title like it’s a bitter taste in her mouth. “Where was all this ‘authority’ when everything went to hell?” She kneels in front of me. “Out here, your title means nothing. You’re just another man with a gun.”

My eyes flick to the floor. Her comment stings more than it should have. It’s true. Once the apocalypse broke out, law enforcement was among the first to go. The silver badge that I once wore with pride suddenly feels heavy against my chest.

“Zuri, give him a break.” The woman with the ponytail hissed. She focuses her attention back on me. “What’s your first name, Officer Blackwood?”

“Felix.”

“Well, Felix. My name is Caroline, and this is Zuri,” Caroline says, shifting her assault rifle.

Zuri, on the other hand, crosses her arms and studies me with suspicion. “You’re welcome for saving your ass, by the way.”

My jaw tightens.

Zuri is right. They did save my ass. If they hadn’t been here, I’d end up just like the rest of my team—failures who’ve turned savage.

I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Caroline beams. “I’m assuming your magazine is empty?”

I check the chamber. “Nearly, I only have five rounds. I came here hoping to find some.”

“We have some at our camp—“

“Caroline!” Zuri snaps. “We are not taking him to our camp. He won’t fit in.”

“Why not? He’s a cop. He clearly has skills—“

I manage to drown out their bickering as I process their words. “Our camp. He won’t fit in.”

But how? I thought I was the only one left in this messed-up world, but now I’m hearing there is a possibility of a group of people living in a camp. I’ve searched for who knows how long for any sign I wasn’t alone.

“There are other survivors?” I interrupt.

Caroline gives me a jovial smile, while Zuri glares daggers at me.

“Yes! We could always use another member. The more the merrier.” Caroline offers her hand, which casts a faint halo outline behind her. “Come on, we’ll take you there.”

I hesitate.

Then I take her hand.

Distant crow cawing and crunching gravel echoes through the woods. Though I’ll admit—Zuri’s hushed whispers are almost just as loud.

I catch fragments of their bickering. “We don’t know him. He will be useful. We can’t trust him.”

My grip tightens on my pistol.

I can’t blame them for arguing. Of course, they don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either.

A loud hiss cuts through my thoughts. My head snaps up—roughly thirty zombies are dragging themselves through the trees. Pale. Broken. Starving. The wind shifts, and the stench of rotten flesh fills my nose.

My breath catches.

Zuri’s revolver is already out. Caroline struggles with her sling, cursing under her breath.

I don’t wait.

The first shot drops one.

Another goes down.

“There are too many!” Caroline shouts over the screeching.

I fire twice—the muzzle flash illuminates a broken jaw and a dislocated eye.

Then. Click.

The sound is louder than the shrieking.

A burst of shots cuts through the air. A lanky zombie drops at my feet. My eyes lock with Caroline’s—she gives a sharp nod.

My eyes search for another weapon. Anything. Until they land on a broken wooden house.

“Follow me!” I jerk my head toward the house.

We duck and jump past a group of zombies who throw themselves at us. Their screeching pierces my ears, and I swear I feel cold fingertips graze my shoulder. I don’t look back.

I kick open the door with a loud bang. I push Zuri and Caroline ahead of me toward the stairs. The door slams shut. Dozens of groans crash into it at once. I shove a chair under the handle—it creaks immediately. I turn on my heel and sprint up the stairs.

“Now what?! We’re trapped!” Zuri snaps.

I heave at the door frame, knuckles white against the wood.

“What kind of officer are you? I thought you had a plan, but now we are going to die.” She turns to Caroline frantically. “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join us. We should’ve just left him to die!”

My head snaps up to meet Zuri’s tear-stained face. Her eyes flicker dangerously between mine, and for a moment, something cracks through the defiance.

Her whole body shakes as her hand tightens around her revolver. “You heard me, Felix,” she hisses. “We should’ve never brought you here.”

Silence falls. Only distant groans and scratching remain.

I inhale sharply.

“I know I’m not a perfect cop,” I mutter. “But I’m trying.”

She scowls. “Trying?! You can’t just ‘try’ during an apocalypse, Felix. One mistake and we’re dead.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Caroline steps in. “I’m sure there is a way out. We aren’t dying—”

“You know what,” I snap.

Both of them freeze.

“You’ve been on my ass since I got here, and I’m tired of hearing it. I get it. I’m not perfect. But neither are you.”

Zuri freezes, her mouth parting slightly.

A faint smirk tugs at my lips… but not for long.

The chair snaps—then the door gives in. Zombies pour in.

My head races. My eyes zero in on a window hidden by a dusty curtain. There’s our exit. I rush over, shoving the curtain aside. My gun handle slams into the glass.

“They’re coming!” Caroline shrieks, pointing at the stairs. A mob of zombies tumbles on the steps.

The smell. The steps. The hissing.

They’re too close, and this thing isn’t breaking.

But then, a bullet whirls past me and cracks the window. I don’t need to look to know that it was Zuri who fired that shot. I slam it one last time, and it shatters. I rip the curtain off the rod and push it out the window. “We need to jump out, come on!”

Caroline rushes over—hesitating before committing to the jump. I look over my shoulder to see Zuri still firing at the zombies.

“Zuri!” I yell.

No response.

She’s so engrossed in killing zombies that she doesn’t see one crawling on her left.

I spring into action, grabbing her waist to pull her back.

Then, pain tears through my calf. Sharp. Fiery. Tingling.

I’ve been scratched.

I grab Zuri, then jump. The wind blows her locs in my face as we tumble onto the curtain. She lets out a soft grunt against my neck, which does something to my heart that I choose to ignore.

“Are you okay?” I whisper into her hair.

She nods, clearly shaken up, but too stubborn to admit it. She lies against me in silence, then adds softly, “You got scratched… for me.”

The mention of my scratch brings back a rush of pain. Zuri crawls off of me, and to my surprise, she gently lifts the hem of my pants. She inspects my wound—squinting and lightly touching the surrounding area. I hiss at the touch.

“You’ll be okay, but we need to disinfect it fast. The camp isn’t too far from here.” She begins to pull me up.

“I can walk, don’t worry—” but I stumble against her shoulder.

To my surprise—again—she doesn’t let out a snarky comment. Instead, she wraps an arm around my waist and leans me against her.

Caroline, who’s been entirely quiet since the landing, watches with wide eyes before scrambling up to my other side. She studies us with a knowing look before taking my arm.

We trudge toward the camp, the only sounds our steps on gravel and the fading groans from the broken house.

The sun is setting by the time we reach the camp. Wooden fences, tents, trucks, and a campfire stand against the sunset sky. But then, I see it. People. Lots of people. Laughter, chopping wood, and the hum of life fill the air. Families huddle around the campfire, holding their young ones as they eat.

Zuri catches my eye. Her expression softens as a kid waves at her. She smiles warmly. My heart flutters.

Other campers watch me with curiosity. Some eye my bleeding leg, while others give me sympathetic looks.

Zuri leads me in the direction of a sage green tent.

"I'll take care of his wound. Tell the others we have another survivor,” Zuri tells Caroline. Caroline nods with a cheeky smile and leaves.

“Why is she being so quiet now?” I ask, concern written over my face.

“She’s probably shaken up by the jump,” Zuri lies. “Worry about yourself, Officer Blackwood.”

And the attitude is back. But I’m not entirely complaining.

She zips up the tent and grabs a nearby first-aid kit. “Sit,” she says, gesturing at a foldable bed. The mattress is firm and squeaky, but surprisingly clean. She kneels in front of me and pops open the kit. “This is going to sting,” she says, dipping the gauze in disinfectant.

I hiss as the gauze meets my cut. Zuri lets out a chuckle. “Wow, the big bad cop can’t handle a little disinfectant?”

I shoot her a glare, but my lips twitch upwards. “That’s a lot of talk for someone who almost got infected. You’re welcome for saving your ass by the way.”

This time, she lets out a genuine laugh. “Touché.”

She finishes bandaging my calf and steps back to admire her work. “Just take it easy. It should heal in a few days.”

I nod and step off the bed carefully.

I meet her eyes—the same eyes that once glared at me with suspicion, now softened with respect. She breaks the silence by clearing her throat. “I’m going to sit by the campfire,” she says, turning to leave. She unzips the tent, but instead of stepping out, she pauses.

“Felix.”

A beat.

“Yes?”

Another beat.

“About what I said earlier… I’m sorry. You’re not a burden, nor are you a bad cop. You saved my life and wore your badge with honor. Thank you.”

And with that, she steps out.

I glance down at my silver badge. For so long, it felt heavy… like shame I couldn’t take off… proof I failed.

Now, it feels different.

Not just a piece of metal with my name. Not a job title. Me. What’s left when everything else is stripped away. The man behind the badge. The man who still chooses to stand, serve, and protect.

I step out of the tent and meet Zuri’s eyes.

She smiles softly, almost unguarded. Firelight flickers across her face.

“Felix! Come and meet everyone!” Caroline calls.

Dozens of eyes turn toward me—old, young, tired, eager. All carrying the same thing.

Hope. And for the first time… It’s looking back at me.

Leaves crunch beneath my boots as I step forward. I don’t hesitate. Not this time.

Because they’re waiting for me.