Where To?

The sun continued its climb, the warmth on their backs almost mocking the grimness of their journey. In other times—better times—that sunlight might have been a comfort. Now it served as a stark contrast to the broken world they traversed. Abandoned vehicles clogged the roads, some rusted beyond recognition, others bearing claw marks and shattered windows from infected attacks. A sense of numbing familiarity settled over Leila—this was the new normal, and she despised it.

Yet she pressed on, ignoring the throbbing ache in her side and the gnawing pit in her stomach. They all did, because they had no choice. An hour later, they crested a small rise, revealing a stretch of highway that snaked into the distance. A billboard, half-collapsed and weather-beaten, loomed overhead. Something about happiness, Leila thought, though the words were too faded to read. The irony made her stomach twist.

Fiona touched Leila's arm, her voice hushed and laced with concern. "Think we're close to that rest stop you mentioned?"

Leila swallowed dryly, scanning the horizon. "If I recall correctly, it should be another half mile. Keep an eye out for infected. If we run into a horde, we pull back immediately."

Mark stepped up beside her, rummaging in his backpack. "We still have those flares," he murmured, as though speaking any louder might draw unwanted attention. "If things get bad, we can try to lure them away."

A small, appreciative smile flickered across Leila's lips. "Good thinking." She turned to Kai, who'd been watching the perimeter with quiet vigilance. "You good to scout ahead?"

Kai inclined his head. "I'll be quick."

Without waiting for further instructions, he moved off with careful, measured strides, disappearing among the overturned cars and crumbling asphalt. The rest of them took cover behind a rusted SUV, hearts pounding with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Leila's fingers tapped anxiously against her rifle, each second stretching into an agonizing minute.

Finally, Kai returned, face grim. "Good news and bad news," he murmured. "The rest stop is there—looked mostly intact. But there's a pack of infected loitering around the parking lot. Maybe a dozen or so."

Fiona paled, her eyes darting to the highway beyond, while Mark muttered a quiet curse. Darren shifted his weight, grimacing as he flexed his injured arm. Leila bit her lip, mentally calculating their odds. Twelve infected they could handle—maybe. But one slip could bring the rest swarming.

"We could try to draw them off," Darren suggested, fighting through a wince. "Use a flare, lead them away from the building."

Mark nodded. "Then the rest of us slip inside, gather what we can."

Leila's chest tightened at the risk. One wrong move, and someone could get overwhelmed. Yet their supplies were dwindling. She exhaled slowly, steeling herself. "Alright. We do it. Darren, you set the flare, lead them toward the highway. Mark, Kai, and I will move in. Fiona, hang back and cover us from a distance. If it goes south—"

"We'll adapt," Kai finished, his tone coolly confident despite the tension thrumming through the group. His gaze flicked to Darren, who nodded firmly, rummaging in his pack for the flare. Fiona gripped her medical bag, anxiety evident in her eyes, but said nothing. This was a risk they had to take.

"Let's go," Leila said softly.

They spread out, each step measured as they approached the rest stop. Through a gap in the broken fence, Leila spotted the infected milling about, a ghastly parody of weary travelers at a roadside station. Their bodies were caked with grime and congealed blood, eyes clouded with the vacant hunger that defined them now.

Darren crept off to the flank, flare in hand, while the others stayed low behind an overturned truck. At Leila's signal, he ignited it, the sudden burst of orange light hissing and spitting sparks. The infected reacted instantly, groans and snarls rising in a cacophony. Darren backed away, holding the flare aloft like a beacon of living flesh, drawing them away from the building. It worked. The undead lurched after him, arms outstretched, fixated on the bright, dancing glow.

Mark, Kai, and Leila seized the moment, slipping through the chain-link fence into the rest stop's parking lot. Old vending machines lay on their sides, glass shards glinting in the weak daylight. The stench of rot hung heavy in the air, like a sour reminder of how far the world had fallen.

They moved quickly, rifles at the ready. Kai took the lead, scanning corners and vehicles with swift, precise movements, while Mark methodically checked the cars. Leila pushed open the main building's door, heart pounding like thunder in her ears. The lights were long dead, leaving rows of shelves cast in dusty gloom. Half-ransacked goods—snack wrappers, water bottles, a few scattered over-the-counter meds—testified to previous scavengers.

"Check everything," Leila whispered urgently. "Fast."

Minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness as they combed the aisles. Kai discovered a locked storage room near the back and, with Mark's help, forced it open. Inside, they found a small stash of bottled water, canned fruit, and a handful of energy bars—just enough to make the risk worthwhile. Leila stuffed them into a duffel bag Mark had salvaged from behind the counter, her pulse quickening each time she heard an infected moan in the distance.

Outside, a faint, eerie wail echoed, sending a shiver down Leila's spine. If Darren's decoy act failed, the horde would be on them in seconds, and they'd be trapped inside. She glanced at the shattered windows, eyes scanning the lot for signs of movement. Kai stood watch at the entrance, grip steady on his rifle, a silent sentinel.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps reached them. Darren burst through the doorway, chest heaving, face drenched in sweat. "They're following me, but I don't know how long I can keep them distracted," he gasped, leaning against the doorframe.

Leila exchanged a look with Kai, who gave a terse nod. "We need to bail," she said, shouldering the duffel bag. "Now."

They surged out into the parking lot, Fiona waving them over from behind a toppled newspaper dispenser. Relief flickered across her features as she saw Leila and Mark hauling the supplies. The undead that remained in the lot—stragglers that hadn't been lured by Darren's flare—lunged forward with guttural moans, but Leila and Kai put them down with practiced efficiency, each shot echoing across the concrete.

They didn't stop running until they reached a safer stretch of highway, the rest stop shrinking behind them. The morning sun cast long shadows, highlighting every fracture and crater in the road. Finally, Leila signaled a halt, lungs burning, sweat trickling down her temple.

Leila glanced around at her ragtag team—Mark, sweaty and winded; Fiona, still hugging her medical bag; Darren, bent over with hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath; and Kai, whose chest rose and fell in measured exhales. She felt a sudden burst of something like pride or gratitude, but it was tempered by the knowledge that their fight was far from over.

A breeze ruffled Fiona's hair as she eyed the duffel bag. "At least we got something," she said, her tone a shaky mixture of relief and residual fear.

Mark nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Enough to keep us going for a little while longer."

Darren managed a weary grin. "Better than nothing."

Leila tested her bruised ribs with a cautious breath, forcing the pain aside. "We need to keep moving," she warned, scanning the horizon. "Jace and Ellie might still be out there. And if the infected catch our scent again…" She let the words trail off, the possibility hanging in the air like a warning.

Kai eyed her, expression unreadable. "Agreed. We can't stay in one place too long."

Fiona tightened her grip on her bag, shoulders trembling slightly before she composed herself. "Where to?"

Leila swallowed, gazing down the cracked highway stretching into the distance. They had no map for what came next—only scraps of memory and the determination to survive. "We keep going. We find somewhere defensible, figure out how to fortify it. This," she lifted the duffel, "buys us time, but not much."

Mark exhaled a ragged breath. "Time is all we need," he murmured, though Leila caught the strain in his voice.

They fell into a tired formation, stepping carefully around the shattered remains of civilization. Each ruin told its own story—a half-burned convenience store, a collapsed diner with overturned tables, a family sedan with doors flung wide, children's toys strewn across the seats. The apocalypse had stolen so many stories, leaving only remnants of memories in its wake.

Leila led them with renewed urgency, the duffel bag thumping against her side with every step. She refused to let exhaustion claim them. If they paused too long, the infected or other scavengers would close in. She could practically feel the malice of the world pressing on them from all sides, but she wouldn't yield.

An hour later, with the sun fully risen, they found a deserted parking lot on the edge of a small suburban area—homes with peeled paint, lawns overgrown with weeds. Leila paused, wiping sweat from her forehead, and beckoned the others. "We'll check a few houses," she decided, voice taut. "See if we can find a place to hole up for the night. Then we plan our next move."

Kai nodded, scanning the rows of empty buildings. Mark and Darren exchanged grim looks, while Fiona took a calming breath. Despite the exhaustion etched into every line of their faces, none of them argued.