It's darker than I thought it would be.
At first, it wasn't so bad, the sky still held traces of orange and yellow, the world washed in dull shadows. But once the sun fully vanished, everything changed. Now every sound mattered and every tree looked like a standing corpse.
I hate night.
I picked up my pace despite myself, boots crunching softly through dirt and leaves. My chest felt tight, breath coming quicker than it should.
He's fine.
I told myself that firmly, like it was a rule, like rules meant anything anymore.
Still, my mind wouldn't shut up.
What if he's choking on his own blood?
What if the fever's worse?
What if I dragged him all that way just to leave him alone to die?
Stop.
Why do I care this much?
Maybe it's because getting him back nearly killed me. His ass weighs a ton. It would be a waste.
That's what I told myself.
Even though I knew it wasn't true.
We've survived together for a while now. Long enough that my body had started to expect someone to have my back and that alone pissed me off.
I told myself I'd never do this again. Never trust. Never stay. Teamwork until we're out-then separate.
That was the deal.
Still is.
So why does the thought of him dying make my chest feel wrong?
I shook it off and forced my focus forward. Overthinking gets you killed. Distraction gets you killed and I wasn't dying out here because I got sentimental.
But the reminder gnawed at me, the way those people had looked at him. Like they recognized him.
Is that who he was avoiding?
I couldn't judge. None of us were clean anymore. I'd trusted the wrong people too. Paid for it.
Trust now wasn't about honesty.
It was about survival.
And right now, we were a team.
That's all.
I heard a moan close to my left.
Instinct snapped.
I pivoted, slammed the zombie back against a tree, and drove my knife up under its jaw. The body slid down the bark in a wet heap.
I wiped the blade on my pants and slid it away.
Breathe.
Keep moving.
The truck stop came into view through the trees. I dropped low immediately, slowing, listening.
Voices.
Of course there were people.
They'd cleared most of the dead and were tearing through supplies like they owned the place.
"Fuck," I muttered.
Then headlights flared.
A truck rolled in.
My stomach flipped.
Too many people. Too many guns.
I almost laughed under my breath.
Right.
I'm not helpless.
I straightened slightly, rolling my shoulders, cracking my neck.
I forgot for a second who I was.
I can do this.
They have no idea who's about to ruin their night.
I smirked and slipped deeper into the shadows. I stayed low, pressed into shadow, counting them again.
Three outside.
Only three.
The rest were inside the building, voices echoing faintly through broken glass and open doors as they tore through whatever supplies were left. No perimeter. No proper lookout.
Amateurs.
The lot was wide and uneven, cracked asphalt swallowed by weeds and oil stains that never washed away. Tall trucks loomed around me like metal giants, their rusted frames throwing long, warped shadows under the weak spill of moonlight.
Too open to rush.
Perfect to stalk.
I shifted my weight deliberately and let my boot scuff against a loose piece of metal.
Just enough.
"Did you see that?" a woman's voice whispered.
"What, a zombie?" one of the men snorted. "Relax."
"I hate coming out here at night," she said, fear tight in her voice. "I hate it."
I smirked to myself.
Poor girl.
"Well then prove you're useful," another man said, irritation dripping from every word. "Go check it out. Kill it. Then I'll tell them you're tougher than you look,"
Silence.
"…Fine," she said quietly.
I moved immediately, slipping behind another truck as she approached, gun clutched too tightly in her hands. Her footsteps were uneven. Careful. Nervous.
"Guys?" she called softly. "Are you sure it's a-"
"Just kill the thing already," the man snapped. "Unless you want them thinking you're weak."
I waited until she was close enough that I could smell fear on her breath.
Then I was behind her.
My arm slid around her throat, tight and precise. My other hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. Her whole body jolted when she realized.
Not dead, human.
"Shhh," I whispered against her ear.
Her heartbeat hammered under my forearm. Fast. Panicked.
I tightened my grip just enough, she went slack in seconds.
I lowered her carefully to the ground, laying her against the asphalt so she wouldn't crack her head open. I wasn't here to kill her.
Unless I had to.
I took her gun, aimed it upward, and fired a single shot.
The crack echoed violently across the lot.
Then I disappeared.
"Mel?" one of the men yelled. "Did you get it?!"
No answer.
"What the fuck-go check," the irritated one snapped.
The third man hesitated. "You keep pushing weak people. You go."
"Whatever," he muttered, stomping toward where she'd fallen.
I waited until he passed me.
Then I moved.
I slammed him into the side of a truck, metal groaning under the impact. My knife slid up under his jaw before he could make a sound.
"Hey, handsome," I murmured.
He struggled.
Big mistake.
I drove the blade into his gut, deep and hard. He collapsed instantly, choking on blood, hands clawing uselessly at my arm.
"You should've stayed still," I said calmly.
The last man realized something was wrong when he spotted Mel on the ground.
"He-"
I crossed the distance in three steps, twisted my body, and slammed him onto his back. My hand locked around his throat, cutting off the sound before it could form.
He clawed at my wrist, panic flooding his eyes.
"Sleep," I whispered.
His grip loosened.
Out.
Moans drifted closer as zombies began to shuffle toward the noise. I turned and dispatched them quickly, clean strikes before they reached the unconscious bodies.
"Hope your team finds you," I muttered. "If they don't… not my problem."
I didn't linger, I slipped back to the wall, fingers finding the gap where I'd hidden our gear. I pulled my bag free and pressed it briefly to my chest.
"Oh thank god," I whispered. "I hid you so well."
Hello Kitty back where she belonged, then I slung Kade's crossbow across my body, grabbed his pack, and sprinted for the nearest truck.
Please. Please have keys.
I flipped the visor down.
They dropped straight into my lap.
I froze for half a second.
Then grinned.
"Yes."
The engine roared to life.
"HEY!" someone shouted.
I looked up.
The same blond guy from before.
Again.
"Don't move!" he yelled, gun raised. "Don't drive or I shoot!"
I waved cheerfully and floored it.
Gunfire exploded around me.
Pain tore through my arm. Another shot skimmed my leg, hot and sharp.
"FUCK!" I screamed, gripping the wheel as the truck lurched forward.
Blood soaked my sleeve. My vision blurred for a second.
Didn't matter.
I laughed-wild, breathless-as the road opened up ahead of me.
"I got us a car!" I yelled into the night.
Blood ran down my arm. My leg burned.
Didn't matter.
I got the gear.
I got the car.
I smiled through the pain, heart pounding like thunder.
I am a fucking badass.
I probably just pissed off a very dangerous group.
Worth it.