EDWARD
There’s no sign marking where Red Zone starts so we rely on the tree where the road dies and the woods take over.
Eliot pulls up beside me a beat later. We sit on our bikes for a second, both looking at the trees.
“Kaz left the usual track.” He says.
I nod, then hop off the bike.
The way things work, whoever finds new bodies during patrol reports it immediately, then leaves a trail marker, usually something subtle enough to avoid drawing the wrong attention but clear enough to guide us straight to the site.
Once we get there, we check for patterns, signs, and anything that might link the bodies back to whoever’s behind it.
Then we decide the next move. In the end, whatever’s left gets collected and sent back to their families for proper burial so they don’t rot forgotten in
