My Sniper System in a Zombie Apocalypse World-Chapter 118: It was me

Jaxon glanced at the rest of his group. Their shoulders were stiff, eyes constantly scanning the checkpoint and the armed soldiers around them.

He lowered his voice so only they could hear. "Relax. We’ll be fine. I spoke with Thomas and the squad leader earlier. They’ll smooth things out for us."

The tension around them eased slightly. It wasn’t gone, but it was enough for them to steady themselves and calm down a little. Still, the strict atmosphere of the place kept everyone alert.

Jaxon continued, keeping his tone calm. "For now, we follow their protocols. Once everyone finishes quarantine and evaluation, we meet up again."

"Got it," Natasha replied quietly.

Elena and the others nodded in agreement.

They had just resumed walking when a loud commotion suddenly erupted from one of the nearby quarantine tents.

"For the last time, he’s not infected!" an aged man shouted from inside. His voice trembled with anger and desperation. "He wasn’t bitten, he wasn’t scratched. He’s fine! Just let him go!"

A colder, more authoritative voice, spoke. "Hold them."

The argument escalated quickly, loud enough to draw the attention of both survivors and soldiers in the area. People began turning their heads, watching.

The tent flap was suddenly pushed open, and four figures rushed out.

A man with a mohawk stormed out first, his face twisted with anger. Behind him was a dark-skinned woman, her eyes burning with frustration. Then an older, muscular man gripped the arm of a pale young man and dragged him forward.

"Just hand over Sam!" the mohawk man snapped. "Why are we risking our lives for him?"

The woman shot back without hesitation. "Bastard! After everything we survived together, you’re going to throw him away?"

"Keep moving," the older man muttered firmly, pulling Sam along.

But they had barely taken a few steps before the nearby soldiers reacted.

Boots pounded against the ground as armed personnel moved in quickly, forming a tight blockade in front of them.

"One more step and you’ll be restrained," a soldier warned sharply.

Another soldier stepped forward, his voice commanding. "On the ground, now!"

The four of them tried to break through. Rex shoved one of the soldiers aside while Kira pulled at Sam’s arm, trying to drag him past the blockade. It didn’t last more than a few seconds.

More soldiers rushed in from both sides, and within moments, the four were surrounded and forced down onto the dirt.

The Mohawk man struggled the hardest, swinging a fist at the nearest soldier. The response was immediate, a rifle butt slammed into his face. He dropped with a grunt, blood spraying from his mouth as several teeth clattered onto the ground.

Weapons were raised. Safeties clicked off.

"Dude... seriously?" the Mohawk man spat through blood, glaring up at them. "You’re going to shoot civilians?"

Not far away, Jaxon pushed through the line of onlookers, trying to see past the soldiers. The moment his eyes landed on the restrained group, he froze.

Rex, Kira, Harlan, and Sam.

The same four he had met at the gun store. The same people he had fought beside in Hudson City.

"Stop! Don’t shoot!" Jaxon shouted, his heart pounding when he saw how close the soldiers’ fingers were to their triggers.

The soldiers shifted slightly, but didn’t lower their weapons.

The four on the ground turned their heads toward the voice.

"Jaxon?" Sam blinked, pale and unsteady. "You... you made it?"

"I could say the same," Jaxon replied quickly, then asked. "What’s going on?"

"They’re saying the kid’s infected," Harlan answered grimly, jaw tight as two soldiers kept him pinned. His eyes flicked toward Sam.

"I don’t even know what’s happening," Sam said, his voice shaky and confused. "They’re accusing me of being infected. They said they’ll kill me."

"What? Based on what?"

The surrounding survivors stiffened as they overheard the conversation.

"Are they saying they can just accuse anyone and execute them?" a woman asked nervously from the crowd.

"That’s insane..."

Low murmurs spread quickly. People glanced at one another, fear rising in their eyes. The strict process, the armed guards, the class system. It had already made everyone uneasy. Now the tension grew heavier.

Then a calm voice sounded from behind Jaxon. "Stay away from him."

Jaxon spun around and saw a blonde man in a doctor’s coat, a foreign specialist clearly stationed here. His expression was calm, almost emotionless, as he continued. "He’s infected."

Jaxon looked at Sam, then back at the doctor, confusion written across his face. "There has to be a mistake. Look at him, he remembers me, he can think and speak, he’s clearly human."

Several survivors nearby nodded, whispers rising in volume.

"I’ve seen infected that almost look human, but they couldn’t speak, not like us."

The blonde doctor did not react to the noise. He waited for it to settle before speaking again.

"He is infected," he repeated calmly. "But he shows no external symptoms."

Sam frowned, his head spinning. "What... does that even mean?"

"It means your blood, saliva, and bodily fluids can transmit the infection to others who are not infected," the doctor steadily.

A ripple of shock passed through Jaxon and the nearby survivors. Rex, Kira, and Harlan froze, disbelief etched on their faces.

Fear spread like wildfire through the crowd. "So someone who hasn’t turned... can still infect others?" someone whispered.

"Are we standing next to carriers right now?"

People instinctively stepped away from one another, mistrust rising as doubt took hold.

"Our scanning procedures have improved," the doctor continued, voice calm. "Cases like his are now detectable. As long as you pass the full screening process, you are considered safe."

The tension eased slightly, though unease still lingered.

At that moment, one of the soldiers nearby looked closely at the four on the ground. Jaxon recalled he was from Thomas’s squad.

"Wait," he said, frowning. "Weren’t you four part of the group rescued on the train?"

Harlan narrowed his eyes, glancing at the soldier with a hint of irritation. "We were. What about it?"

Suddenly, the soldier snapped. He lunged forward, slamming his boot into Sam’s gut. "It’s your fault! You caused the infection on the train!" he shouted, rage burning through his voice, following up with more kicks as blood splattered across the ground.

"Stop it!" Harlan and Kira shouted, but no one moved to intervene. The survivors froze, murmuring quietly, uncertain whether to step in, while the soldier remained locked in place.

Then Jaxon yanked the soldier back, halting more blows before they could land. Seeing Sam, someone who had fought beside him and shown him kindness before get beaten so mercilessly struck a nerve. They weren’t close, but watching him suffer with no one else stepping in left a bitter taste in Jaxon’s mouth.

Sam coughed violently, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. "I didn’t do anything... AND I’M NOT INFECTED!" he shouted, desperation cracking his voice.

"It’s because of you!" the soldier bellowed, straining against Jaxon’s hold as if he could throw him off. "Those kids got infected because of you! You killed them! You killed everyone on that train!"

Sam froze, his mind flickering through memories. A child, a beggar he had once given bread to, flashed in his thoughts. And the blonde doctor’s words echoed in his mind: ’...saliva, blood, bodily fluids...’

Piece by piece, the horrifying truth settled in. Sam’s knees weakened, tears streaming down his face. "So... it was me?" he whispered, voice barely audible, almost lost in shock and guilt.