Capítulo 2: Samantha

Carefully, I crept toward the door, relieved to find it unlocked. As I entered the janitor's room, I was taken aback by its cleanliness—no signs of struggle in sight.

"I bet Samantha's quite the hide-and-seek expert," I mused.

"Samantha, I won't harm you. Your father asked me to look after you," I called out, my voice gentle yet firm.

The room was small, with scattered clothes on a bunk bed. Nearby, a suitcase indicated Samantha's presence.

Surveying the room, I noticed a shelf stocked with canned goods and medicine. It seemed this room had been a shelter for Samantha and her father. My arrival in town had coincided with a stroke of luck—a cache of valuable supplies.

A muffled thud from the closet beside the fridge caught my attention. It seemed I had indeed found Samantha.

Crouching down, I approached the closet cautiously, speaking softly, "Samantha, I promise not to hurt you."

Without warning, Samantha burst out of the closet, clutching a 9mm gun. Concern and frustration welled up in me. A stubborn kid armed with a weapon wasn't ideal.

Her blonde hair obscured her eyes as she stammered, "G-Get down!"

Swallowing my apprehension, I tried to defuse the situation, "Look, I found your father, and he wants me to take care of you."

I'd attempt to calm her down. Samantha seemed sharp and wasn't easily fooled. I was only fulfilling her father's dying wish.

Samantha lowered the gun gradually, her voice trembling, "What? Where is he?"

Sighing, I replied, "I found your father while fighting a demon. I believe you're Samantha, right?"

Samantha nodded, her eyes filled with sadness and determination. I retrieved her father's backpack and placed it on the ground for her to inspect. Her face showed sorrow at her father's loss and contemplation about her next steps.

Trying not to reveal that I knew the whereabouts of her mother, I asked, "Where's your mother?"

Samantha's brow furrowed with resentment. "I don't need her. She's the one who attracted those three monsters."

She aimed again, saying, "Yo-You might be trying to trick me!"

"Okay, I swear that I am not a bad guy," I said, though convincing a smart, distrustful child was challenging.

I gulped, "Look, I am trying to get you to safety; we don't have much time." The cryptids likely heard those gunshots.

Samantha scrutinized me, her brown eyes filled with distrust, "How can I be sure? You might be lying!" Her grip on the gun tightened.

"Please believe me!" I said. I had no reason to lie, but the decision was up to her. She could shoot or not.

Samantha eventually lowered her gun and let out a silent chuckle, "You're not a bad guy, just like my father said. Bad guys would just attack me the moment they saw me."

I sighed in relief, "It's okay, Russ, come here!"

Samantha narrowed her eyes, unsure of who Russ was. I stood up and opened the door, calling, "Come here, Russ."

Russ entered cautiously, emitting robotic barks that conveyed his curiosity and apparent liking for Samantha.

Samantha holstered her 9mm gun, a sign of growing trust, and asked, "Does he bite?"

Shaking my head, I reassured her, "No, he's a robotic dog, though he's very helpful in fighting those cryptids."

Samantha scrutinized both Russ and me, deliberating my trustworthiness. Slowly, she approached Russ, who acknowledged her gentle approach by sitting down. Samantha began to pat him, a smile gracing her lips.

"He's fluffy, even though you said he's a robot," Samantha observed, continuing to stroke the robodog.

Returning the smile, I replied, "Yes, he may be a robot, but he has a coat to make him less scary and more like a real dog."

Samantha let out a sigh, her gaze shifting between Russ and me. Despite finding comfort in the robodog's presence, she exuded intelligence that surpassed my initial expectations.

Locking eyes with me, Samantha inquired, "Is my father really dead?"

Realizing that avoiding the truth would be futile, I sighed and confessed, "Yes, he died while fighting. I did my best to help him, but he was bitten, and it was too late to save him."

Samantha held my gaze, her eyes a shade of brown hinting at foreign origins rather than being like the locals.

Standing up, Samantha walked toward the supplies, her determination unwavering. "My father taught me not to mourn unless someone is truly gone. I won't cry like other kids."

Impressed by her unwavering will and fierce expression, I gently patted her shoulder. "I'll entrust Russ to you, and I have a vehicle ready."

Samantha looked at me, her head tilted, and asked, "Why?"

"I am bringing you to our base. It isn't safe here, so if you want to bring anything useful outside, we're going to pack them." I said, looking around. The entire room was filled with supplies more than I saw initially.

"Alright," Samantha replied as she turned her back.

I exited the room and headed towards the temporary HQ.