Dust and debris spiraled up behind the vehicle as it tore down the cracked road, tires whining in protest. The world outside blurred into a sar of gray and brown— ruined storefronts, collapsed signs, the skeletons of a civilization that hadn’t survived the end of itself.
Carl sat shotgun, one elbow hooked lazily against the open window. Wind rushed past his face, tugging at his hair, carrying the dry scent of rust and old smoke.
He stared ahead, eyes half-lidded, pretending the road was emptier than it was.
Beside him, Adira drove with both hands locked on the wheel. Her posture was rigid, jaw set, eyes flicking constantly between the road and the mirrors.
Every movent of the car felt calculated, deliberate—like she was expecting sothing to jump out at them at any second.
In the backseat, the woman sat upright, wrists bound tightly in front of her. Her dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail, strands already coming loose. She shifted slightly, testing the ropes, then went still.
Carl’s eyes drifted to the rearview mirror.
Their gazes t.
Josephine looked away instantly, staring out the window like she’d been caught doing sothing wrong.
Carl frowned, the corners of his mouth tightening.
"...These ropes are pretty tight," she said at last, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, almost too calm. "I promise I won’t do anything."
Adira didn’t look back.
"There’s a lot you can do in the backseat, Dr. Josephine," she said coldly. "If that’s even your real na."
Josephine’s brows knit together, wounded but restrained.
"...That’s fair," she admitted quietly. "You just t . I wouldn’t trust either."
A beat passed, the engine humming beneath them.
"But I swear," she added quickly, leaning forward as much as the ropes allowed, "everything I told you was the truth."
Carl exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face.
"...It’s not that we don’t believe you," he said finally. "It’s just— your story’s full of holes."
Josephine’s shoulders tensed.
"I still don’t get," Carl continued, glancing back at her through the mirror,
"what kind of doctor gets naked in front of the subject they’re interviewing?"
Color rushed to her face.
"I—uh—" she stamred, eyes dropping. "That’s... that’s not— it’s more complicated than it sounds."
Adira looked to him briefly. Carl didn’t let it go.
"And you claim to be a doctor who knows all about the infected," he pressed, voice steady but sharp, "so why were you even interviewing your infected husband in the first place? Was he different sohow—or were you just hoping he was?"
Josephine’s mouth opened, words tangling before they could co out. Her breathing picked up, panic scratching at the edges of her composure.
"I— I was—"
"Doesn’t matter," Adira cut in.
Her voice was sharp enough to end the conversation right there.
"You’re lucky," she went on. "We’re heading to Texas anyway. There are people we’re supposed to et."
Sothing flickered across Josephine’s face.
Carl caught it imdiately.
Not relief.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"I see..." Josephine said slowly, forcing a small, careful smile. "Well. Then I suppose it works out for the three of us. Doesn’t it?"
Neither Carl nor Adira responded.
The car rolled past an abandoned clothing store, its front windows smashed in, glass spiderwebbed across the pavent. The doors were splashed with graffiti—not desperate pleas, not rage-filled curses.
Just a ssage.
TAKING I-45 FOR TEXAS.
—Adrian
Carl sucked in a breath.
For the first ti in hours, his face softened—almost into a smile—as he turned to Adira.
At the back of the car, Josephine stared out the window.
Her expression stayed neutral.
Or tried to.
Lila humd softly to herself as the Humvee rumbled down the ruined stretch of road, the sound almost lost beneath the engine’s growl. It wasn’t a tune anyone else would’ve recognized—slow, andering, intimate. Like it was ant for her alone.
Adrian sat beside her, strapped in tight, head tilted slightly toward the window. His mouth hung open just enough to betray the deep sleep he’d fallen into, exhaustion finally winning.
With one hand on the wheel, Lila reached over with the other, tugging lightly at his seatbelt, checking its tension.
Secure.
She always checked. Once wasn’t enough. Twice felt right.
Her lips curved into a small smile as she studied his sleeping face. The bruises, the faint lines of strain, the way his brow still furrowed even in rest. He looked peaceful. Vulnerable.
Perfect.
Her eyes lingered on him far longer than they did the road ahead. Each ti she forced herself to look forward, they drifted back almost imdiately—like the world outside didn’t matter nearly as much as the one sitting beside her.
Then—
A screech tore through the air.
Lila’s eyes snapped forward just in ti to see an infected lurch into the road, arms flailing, mouth stretched wide in a broken scream. Her heart slamd against her ribs as she jerked the wheel hard to the side.
The Humvee swerved.
Adrian’s body shifted in his seat, head lolling slightly before settling again.
That was it. That was all she noticed.
Her breath caught—not at the near collision, not at the infected now tumbling off to the side—but at Adrian’s movent. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles blanched, eyes darting to him, checking him again.
Still asleep.
Unhurt.
Only then did her pulse begin to slow.
From the backseat, Aubrey had seen everything.
She leaned forward slightly, voice sharp enough to cut through the lingering tension.
"Hey. Focus on the road before you get us all killed, thanks?"
Lila’s humming stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, her gaze shifted to the rearview mirror.
The warmth drained from her expression in an instant. What replaced it was flat. Cold. Empty in a way that made Aubrey’s stomach drop.
Regret hit imdiately.
The Humvee kept moving, tires crunching over debris as seconds stretched uncomfortably long. No one spoke.
Terri stiffened in her seat, shoulders drawing tight like she was bracing for impact. Cherie turned her face toward the window, pretending to be absorbed by the ruined landscape rushing past.
Then—
Lila smiled.
Not the soft smile she’d worn for Adrian.
Sothing warr. Too warm. Carefully shaped.
Aubrey’s eyes widened as she caught it in the rearview mirror, a chill crawling up her spine.
"You know, Aubrey..."
A beat.
"We used to be so close. I really don’t like the tension between us," Lila said at last, her voice gentle, almost pleasant. Calm. Reasonable.
"It’s unnecessary."
She glanced briefly at Adrian again, her smile softening—then returned her eyes to the mirror.
"If you have a problem with ," she continued slowly, every word asured, "or if there’s anything you want to say—"
Her smile never faltered.
"You can say it to my face."
The Humvee roared on, swallowing the silence that followed.
No one spoke.
And sohow, that felt far more dangerous than the infected in the road
Hours had passed. The road behind them was a blur of cracked asphalt and dust, the sun low and harsh on the horizon.
St. Louis was far behind them, a mory of smoke and chaos, but exactly where they were now... nobody could say.
Oklahoma? Maybe. The landscape had flattened into endless scrub and rusted-out signs, the kind you didn’t bother reading anymore.
GPS didn’t exist anymore. Survival didn’t leave room for that.
Hale’s humvee bounced along a hidden rut, tires crunching over debris. Then—suddenly—it lurched, wheels skidding over sothing solid. Terri’s forehead collided with the seat infront of her.
Lila’s hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white, as she slamd the brakes. The world seed to stop.
"What the hell..?" Terri muttered, voice sharp with panic.
Lila’s eyes widened as she scanned ahead. The road opened into a clearing, a thin line of trees framing the unexpected scene. Guns. Raised. Riot shields clanged against the sun, reflecting sharp light into their eyes.
n in helts and fatigues stood rigid, formation tight. Military uniform. Real, functional, disciplined. Not the ragged, scavenged crap most survivors wore.
I slowly stirred in the passenger seat, the hum of the engine and the sudden halt dragging him from sleep. My eyes narrowed, taking in the sight— steel, authority, and danger radiating off every soldier like heat.
Sothing warm filled my chest almost imdiately, as a breath escaped.
This was it. We had crossed into Texas. We had to be. The lines of reality tightened around us, sudden and suffocating. No turning back now.
A voice cut through the stillness, sharp and commanding, carrying over the hum of the idling engines. Hostile. Absolute.
"Step out of your vehicles, hands raised. NOW!!!"
My chest tightened. My breath caught in my throat. Every muscle froze for a fraction of a second before I moved. Fingers fumbling, I unbuckled my seatbelt, the tal clasp clicking.
Lila’s eyes never left mine. Dark, unreadable. Then, deliberately, she mirrored my movents.
The others followed. Terri’s shoulders were rigid; Aubrey’s jaw clenched, hands rising slowly. Even Cherie shifted, compliant, yet bristling with tension.
Outside, the soldiers’ shadows stretched long across the cracked asphalt, weapons raised, bodies rigid.
The sun glinted off helts and armor, reflecting a world that felt simultaneously hostile and strangely organized.
Despite the danger, a sliver of hope pierced through the fear. Maybe this wasn’t a trap. Maybe soone here could help.
There has to be.
The possibility lit in my chest like a flare.
We stepped onto the ground, feet crunching against gravel and dust, hands raised high. The wind swept past, carrying the tallic tang of sweat and tension.
And now, hope was no longer just a whisper. It was out in the open, pulsing between us and them.
The journey was finally over.
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