Mike's True Colors

The fire crackled low, casting long shadows across the abandoned gas station’s main room. Chris stood at the edge of the circle of survivors, his eyes locked on Mike. The others had fallen silent, their breaths shallow, waiting. Kacy’s confession still hung in the air like smoke—she had seen Mike tampering with the barricade the night before the zombie breach. The sabotage that had nearly cost them everything.

Mike smiled. It was a slow, practiced curve of his lips, the same charm he’d used to win over most of the group. “Chris, man, you’re not actually buying into Kacy’s story, are you? She’s scared. We’re all scared. But blaming me? That’s a stretch.”

Chris didn’t blink. He stepped closer, the soles of his boots scraping against the concrete floor. “I saw you, Mike. Back at the warehouse. You were checking the supplies, but you weren’t counting cans. You were hiding something.”