Fortunately, their retreat went unnoticed. Whether by luck or by the absence of threats, no zombies or mutated animals appeared to challenge their escape.
The eerie stillness of the surroundings lent an almost unnatural silence to their exit, leaving behind only the faint rumble of the trucks fading into the distance.
Vulture remained silently perched on the roof of the truck, issuing only a single order to the drivers: to head back.
The tension in his demeanor was palpable, and though no one spoke of it, everyone felt the weight of his mood.
They understood. Among them, Vulture had been the closest to Sparrow. Despite their constant bickering, their bond was like that of brothers—strong and unwavering.
The group respected his pain, knowing that if they were in his position, they would feel just as devastated.
Recognizing his need for space, they focused on their tasks, performing their duties diligently and without adding to his burden.
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