But all I could think of was one phrase ringing in my head: "swept the city." I swayed. Swept the city? Everything had been fine yesterday. It had only been one night. Swept the city. Yesterday everything had been relatively normal!

“Are you injured?” asked one of the soldiers who stood a little apart. Sam shook his head.

“No, but it looks like you have injured people,” he began cautiously, “and we know of a more or less safe place; we spent the night in a bookstore…” He added urgently, “We need help and…”

“Lead the way. We’ll discuss everything there,” the man who had started speaking with us interrupted Sam. “But no foolishness.”

Sam nodded unevenly and pulled me back, still eyeing the soldiers impassively. The group was made up of men and two girls, one of whom, injured, was being carried. Her jacket was tied around her waist, and her shirt was soaked with blood – her shoulder was bleeding heavily, but she was alive: she moaned and occasionally twitched, gasping raggedly for air.

The man leading the group fell into step with me and Dort, and his gaze was as watchful and inquisitive as mine. He was a little taller than Sam; he exuded a sense of firmness and confidence on some physical level. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that several weapons were pointed in our direction.

Soldiers like soldiers. Black uniforms, heavy high boots, backpacks, tactical vests, pouches, jackets, knee and elbow pads. On their belts – knives, spare weapons; some had holsters on their chests or legs. A few wore helmets.

“How did you survive these past twenty-four hours?” A man walking next to us asked hoarsely, examining us with a keen gaze. “A bookstore, huh? It's not exactly a place that associates with an impenetrable stronghold.”

“We haven't been outside since yesterday,” I replied more sharply than I intended. “Yesterday, around noon, we locked ourselves in the bookstore with an employee. The basement level. No windows. We can't be seen, and we can't see out. We only decided to venture out today. We were waiting for help, but it never came. We had to rely on ourselves. Honestly, we don't fully understand what's going on… if we understand anything at all.”

“Thank Mother,” he muttered bitterly. “If you had been outside in the evening or at night, you probably wouldn't have survived,” the soldier said, shaking his head thoughtfully as I tried to keep myself from panicking.

“Robert,” one of the group, a tall man with light hair and dark eyes, approached the man walking next to us and whispered something to him.

“Do everything you can,” said the man, whose name was Robert. I gathered that he was the group leader. The second soldier shook his head sadly.

“Too much blood,” he said curtly. Robert grunted and looked at us.

“Is there a pharmacy nearby?”

“Yes,” Sam nodded. “Right by the entrance. The first pavilion on the left.”

“Take Stan and get what you need,” Robert instructed his subordinate. “We'll be in the basement. And, Michael,” the commander held the man for a moment, “do everything you can under the circumstances.”

“Understood,” the man nodded, then turned back to the group. “Taren!”

Two soldiers moved ahead.

Robert continued to ask Sam and me short, monosyllabic questions, mostly regarding whether we had encountered the infected, what we had seen and heard, and where we had been when we faced the consequences of the infection's spread. When I responded that we were journalists here to gather material, the soldier suddenly smirked, studying our faces intently and with interest.