The next morning, I woke to the sound of voices.
"There's no way."
At first, I thought I was dreaming again. It had been so long since I'd heard anyone speak that my brain didn't quite believe it was real. But the noise didn't fade it grew louder, muffled, but distinctly human. I sat up fast, knife in hand, every muscle in my body tensing. The farmhouse creaked in the red morning light but outside someone was talking low, urgent. Then a woman's voice, sharp but calm,
"Keep your eyes open. Don't wander off the road."
I crawled toward the window, careful not to make noise. Through the dirty glass, I saw them. Four people. Real people. A man and woman, maybe in their forties, dressed in patched clothing and carrying makeshift weapons, a crowbar and a broken pipe. Behind them, a younger woman with bright auburn hair tied back in a braid and between them, a tiny girl clutching a stuffed rabbit, barely more than a toddler.
I stared, hardly daring to breathe. They moved with the cautious rhythm of people who'd survived this long by expecting everything to kill them.
The older woman, Mary, I heard the man call her, stopped suddenly and raised a hand.
"John. There's smoke."
John a tall, broad man with a beard streaked gray, followed her gaze toward my farmhouse. My heart dropped, I'd left the lantern burning overnight.
They were heading toward me.
I had two choices to hide, or show myself my gut screamed to hide. People weren't safe here, not anymore. I'd seen enough horrors these last few days to know that monsters didn't always have claws. But… the sound of that child's laugh, thin and trembling as it was, pulled something in me that I hadn't felt since the world fell apart.
I couldn't stay silent. I wanted human connection more than anything these days.
I stepped into the doorway, keeping my knife visible but lowered. "I'm not infected!" I called, voice shaking despite me. "Please! I'm not like them!"
Four heads snapped toward me.
Mary raised her weapon immediately. John took a step in front of the child. The younger woman, Scarlet, I heard later, aimed a crossbow at my chest. The only one who didn't move was the little girl, she just blinked up at me, clutching her rabbit tighter. For a few heartbeats, nobody spoke, and the wind howled through the fields like it was holding its breath.
Then Mary said, "Come out slowly. Hands where we can see them."
I nodded, raising both hands. "Okay. Okay, I'm coming."
My legs felt weak as I stepped into the open air. The rain from the night before had made dark circles into the dirt around me and the smell of sulfur still lingered.
John's eyes narrowed, "How long have you been here?"
"A day. Maybe two. I lost track."
"Anyone else with you?"
I shook my head. "No. Just me."
They exchanged glances, a silent conversation that told me they'd seen too many desperate strangers already.
Finally, Scarlet lowered the crossbow a fraction, "She looks clean. No gray under the skin."
Mary hesitated, then nodded once, "All right. Keep your distance, but come with us. The Hollowed move through here after sunset, you won't survive another night alone."
For a second, I couldn't move, the simple offer, the "we" in her voice, nearly broke me.
I swallowed hard, "Thank you so much."
We walked west. The group moved like they'd done this before quietly, efficiently, in formation. John led, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Mary kept the child close, her hand never leaving the girl's shoulder and Scarlet brought up the rear, crossbow ready. No one spoke for a long time only the crunch of boots and the distant wind filled the silence.
After an hour, Mary glanced at me, "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Lilly."
"Lilly," she repeated softly, as if testing the sound. "Well, you're lucky we passed through. Not many folks left this side of the river. We lost a whole camp two weeks back."
"Camp?" I asked.
John grunted, "What's left of one. Small. Safe enough if you don't mind eating the same canned beans every day."
Scarlet gave a dry laugh, "Safe's not a word I would use these days."
I glanced at the child walking beside Mary, "And her?"
Mary's face softened, "Lilac. We found her hiding in a church in the south district, she hasn't said much since."
Lilac looked up at me then big, solemn eyes the color of the ocean, she didn't smile, but she reached out and held up her rabbit, I noticed one ear was missing.
I knelt and smiled faintly, "Is that your guard bunny?"
She nodded, whispering, "His name's Toast."
Despite everything the death, the ruin, the monsters, I laughed. "Toast. That's perfect."
Something flickered across Mary's face surprise, maybe, or gratitude. "You're good with her," she said quietly.
I wasn't sure how to answer that. I hadn't been good with anyone in a long time.
We camped in the shell of an old diner that night. The windows were shattered, but the walls held. John built a fire from broken furniture, while Mary portioned out cans of beans and crackers like gold.
Scarlet sat near the window, keeping watch, she hadn't said much since we met. Up close, I saw she had faint scars along her jawline, a patch sewn into her jacket that read Medic.
"You a doctor?" I asked.
She shrugged, "Was a Emergency nurse. Doesn't mean much now."
"Still means something," I said.
She studied me for a moment, then looked back at the dark, "You talk like you haven't been out here long."
"I woke up three days ago I think, I lost track of the days," I said. "City center."
Her head snapped toward me. "You survived the city?"
John whistled low, "Damn. We lost contact with everyone in there. What's it like now?"
I hesitated, staring into the fire. "Empty. Wrong. The air's… broken. I don't know how to explain it."
Mary crossed herself. "We heard stories. Said the sky tore open. That people just burned."
"They did," I whispered. "But some didn't."
Scarlet frowned. "You mean the Hollowed?"
I shook my head. "No. Others. Things walking through the fires, not infected but not human either."
The group went silent even Lilac stopped humming to her rabbit.
John poked the fire, his voice low. "We've seen them too. Things in the distance. Watching."
Mary shuddered. "Demons, angels, I don't care what they are if they're walking here, we're already in Hell."
No one argued.
After dinner, I helped Mary wash out a few canteens using filtered rainwater. She hummed quietly under her breath an old song, I thought, something about mercy and light. I believe I've heard it before but I couldn't remember where.
"You've got fight in you," she said suddenly.
I looked up. "What makes you say that?"
"You didn't freeze when we pointed weapons at you," she said, smiling faintly. "You didn't beg, either. You just stood there like you'd already made peace with dying."
I stared into the water. "Maybe I had."
Mary's hand brushed mine gentle, maternal. "Don't you dare give up now. The world may be ending, but God didn't bring us this far to quit halfway through."
I wanted to believe her. I really did, but when I looked out the window at the dark horizon, at the rift pulsing faintly above the ruins, something in my chest whispered otherwise.
God wasn't the one watching me, something else was.
Sometime after midnight, I woke to noise outside.
Scraping. Wet and slow.
I sat up, every nerve sparking. The others were still asleep, except Scarlet, she was already on her feet, crossbow raised, eyes locked on the door. She glanced at me, pressing a finger to her lips. The scraping came again closer now, then a sound like breathing, shallow and ragged.
John stirred, reaching for his crowbar, "They followed us," he mouthed.
Mary pulled Lilac into her arms, whispering prayers.
Scarlet nodded toward the side exit. "We move, quietly."
We slipped through the back door into the alley, the wind was cold and sharp, carrying the faint stench of decay. Behind us, the front of the diner exploded inward as something hit it hard.
The Hollowed, at least a dozen. They poured through the windows, shrieking, their eyes glowing in the dark. We made it out of the diner just in time.
We took off running.
My lungs burned as we tore down the road, feet pounding, pavement slick with ash. The Hollowed followed, faster than they should've been, their screams echoing through the empty fields.
John led us toward a collapsed overpass, "Under there!" he shouted.
We dove into the shadowed space beneath the concrete, hearts hammering. The Hollowed clawed at the edges, snarling, but couldn't seem to cross the threshold.
Mary held Lilac close, whispering to soothe her.
Scarlet crouched beside me, breathing hard. "You good?"
"Ask me when it's quiet again," I managed terrified.
For a long time, none of us moved. The creatures paced outside the overpass, howling in frustration. Then, one by one, they drifted away pulled by something unseen.
When the last one vanished into the fog, Scarlet exhaled shakily, "We'll move at dawn."
John nodded, gripping Mary's shoulder, "We'll get to the safe zone by tomorrow. Just a few more miles."
Mary smiled weakly. "If we hadn't seen your smoke, we'd all be dead."
I looked out toward the distant glow of the rift, its pulse reflecting faintly off the cracked highway. "Maybe," I said softly, "Or maybe you were supposed to find me."
Scarlet gave me a strange look. "Supposed to?"
I met her eyes. "Doesn't it feel like something or someone is pushing us? Like we're supposed to be together?"
John frowned, "What do you mean, by who?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know, it was just a deep knowing feeling.
All I knew was that the word echoed again, faint and low in my mind.
"Tether."
And this time, I wasn't sure if it was a whisper or a warning.