The main road stretched wide and cracked, leading toward Excelsior Springs. Dried mud flaked from their clothes, caking their boots and arms from the earlier fall. They looked filthy. They smelled worse.
Iyisha wrapped her arms around herself, teeth clenched. The air was colder now. Sharp wind cut straight through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Malcolm scanned the treeline, tense. "We need to find somewhere before nightfall," he said. "We'll freeze out here."
She didn't answer right away.
"It's more dangerous inside," she said finally, eyes on the town ahead. "What if it's full of herds?"
"We don't have food. We don't have shelter. If we stay out here, we're done either way."
Iyisha looked down at the map. The only unmarked town ahead was Excelsior Springs and the next closest is too far out.
He continued, voice low, not harsh. "Even if we don't want to… we need supplies. We can't leave it to chances anymore."
She bit her lip. "Okay… but if I lost you—"
"We meet back here," he said, pointing to the side of a brick building near a faded corner shop. "No matter what."
Iyisha nodded, fear still clinging to her features. She was scared and every inch of her wanted to turn back but he had already decided, and deep down, she understood. They hadn't eaten in more than a day. Even her medical instincts whispered the same truth: if they kept going like this, they'd get sick. And then they'd die.
They moved deeper into town, crouching low as they passed broken fences and abandoned signage.
The silence was worse than sound. The downtown stretched around them like a graveyard, its streets wide but lifeless, lined with hollow buildings whose windows gaped like black, watching eyes.
Trash lay undisturbed in the gutters and every step they took seemed to echo, swallowed by the eerie stillness.
The town felt wrong.
"Where are the undead?" she whispered.
Malcolm's jaw tightened. "This isn't near a safe zone. Military doesn't sweep out here."
She looked at him. "So… what is this?"
He paused, then whispered, "Might be someone's territory."
Iyisha's blood chilled.
"Vulture?" She swallowed hard, suddenly more aware of every shadow.
They edged around the corner of a building, pressed against its brick side. A faint icon of a gun was painted on a nearby awning.
"Do you think there's anything left in there?" she whispered.
"Maybe," Malcolm said. "But those places get booby-trapped. Not worth dying for an empty shelf."
A few storefronts down was another shop — hiking gear. Glass cracked, but intact.
They moved silently, crouched low, using bins and boards as cover.
Iyisha peeked through the window.
Her heart nearly stopped.
There were walkers. Dozens. Maybe more. They were crammed together so tightly it looked unnatural like they'd been placed there, or had stood frozen for years. None of them twitched. None of them shifted. They didn't even sway.
It was as if they were asleep, upright, unmoving. But the stillness wasn't comforting. It was ominous.
One sharp sound, one accidental noise, and all of them might wake.
Malcolm pulled her back slowly. They backed away, step by step, eyes sweeping every doorway.
Then they heard it — the distant rumble of a vehicle approaching from where they are heading. Malcolm cursed under his breath.
Iyisha's fear spiked. With the hum of the engine came with multiple footsteps crunching over gravel.
Inside the shop behind them, the walkers stirred.
First a moan. Then another.
The dead slammed against the glass, drawn to the noise, their arms flailing, mouths opening in soundless hunger.
"Move," Malcolm hissed.
They quickened their pace going back into where they came from.
Iyisha's heart pounded as her boot hit a metal can.
She saw it in her head — Malcolm, gunned down because of her.
But Malcolm caught it just before it rolled further and caught her too, steadying her by the elbow.
But the sound had already rung out.
Then came another sound.
"There's someone here."
Iyisha's blood turned cold. Her stomach dropped.
They began retreating the way they came, every step slow and deliberate.
They melted into the shadows, silent as ghosts.