The Jeep tore down the road like it was trying to outrun its own shadow.
No one spoke at first.
The engine whined. Tires hissed over cracked asphalt. Somewhere behind them, screams faded into distance—or maybe into memory. The inside of the Jeep smelled like gasoline, sweat, blood, and something coppery that clung to the back of the throat.
Marcus was gone.
That fact sat in the vehicle like a body no one could look at.
Dot's hands were still clenched in her lap, fingers locked together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her chest hitched every few seconds, sharp breaths she couldn't seem to smooth out. Renee stared out the window, jaw locked, eyes tracking movement that wasn't there. Mari was folded inward, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders shaking as she cried silently, as if she didn't trust her voice not to break something worse if she let it out.
And Tally—
Tally sat rigid in her seat, staring straight ahead.
Her eyes were dry.
Her face was blank in a way that scared everyone more than screaming would have.
Ethan slowed slightly, easing the Jeep around an overturned sedan, then another, then a body lying half in the road. He didn't look back. He couldn't. His grip on the steering wheel was iron-hard, veins standing out in his forearms.
The silence stretched.
Cracked.
Renee snapped.
"This is your fault."
The words hit like a slap.
Tally turned slowly, disbelief flashing across her face. "What?"
Renee whirled on her fully now, the restraint she'd been clinging to since Marcus fell finally shattering. Her voice rose, sharp and shaking with rage and grief. "Marcus is dead because of you. Just like Justin."
"That's not true," Tally shot back immediately, too fast, too defensive. "This is Ethan's fault."
Ethan's head snapped slightly, but he didn't take his eyes off the road. "What?"
"You said Justin was dead," Tally yelled, twisting toward him. "You said he was gone."
Renee exploded. "No, you were yelling at him—over something he never even said."
Tally froze. "That's not—"
"He never said Justin was dead," Renee shouted. "You accused him of it. You twisted it. You were screaming at him, putting words in his mouth while we were trying to survive."
Ethan's jaw clenched.
"I never said that," he said flatly. "Not once."
Tally shook her head hard, like if she shook it enough the truth would fall apart. "Then why did we leave him?"
The question came out broken.
The Jeep seemed to slow—not physically, but emotionally. Like the air itself had thickened.
Ethan slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
"We left," he shouted, "because Justin ran into the horde on purpose."
Everyone flinched.
"He drew them away from the Jeep," Ethan continued, his voice raw now, stripped of restraint. "That was the plan. That was always the plan. He pulled them off us so we could get out."
Tally stared at him, her face draining of color.
"And he didn't come back," Ethan went on. "He ran toward a building that was already surrounded. Completely surrounded. There was no opening. No escape route. Nothing."
His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady.
"There was no possible way he could have survived."
The words landed like a physical blow.
Tally's breath hitched sharply. Once. Twice.
"No," she whispered.
Her hands began to shake.
"No," she said again, louder this time, her voice breaking open. "No, you don't know that."
Ethan finally turned his head just enough for her to see his face.
It was wrecked.
"I watched the horde close in," he said quietly. "I watched him disappear."
Tally's chest caved inward like something vital had been ripped out.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
She pressed her hands to her face, fingers digging into her temples like she could hold herself together by force.
Renee didn't let up.
"And even if it wasn't a zombie attack in that moment," she said bitterly, "this is a zombie apocalypse. They are everywhere. So why were you yelling? Why were you raising your voice at all?"
Tally's shoulders shook.
"I—I didn't think—"
"No," Renee snapped. "You never think."
That did it.
Tally broke.
A sound tore out of her chest that didn't sound human—half sob, half scream. She folded forward, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep from shattering completely.
"I didn't mean to," she cried. "I didn't mean for any of this."
Mari lifted her head, eyes swollen and red.
"This is my fault," Mari whispered suddenly, her voice barely audible. "It's all my fault."
Everyone froze.
Mari turned slightly in her seat, sobbing openly now. "If I hadn't gotten sick, we wouldn't have stopped. Marcus would still be alive. Justin would still be alive. If I had just driven to him—like Tally said—he'd be with us."
Tally looked at her, stunned, horror flickering across her face.
Mari pressed a hand to her mouth, then her stomach. "I ruined everything."
"No," Dot said instantly.
She leaned forward, reaching across the seat, wrapping her arms around Mari from behind as best she could. "No. That's wrong. You hear me? That's wrong."
Mari sobbed harder.
Dot held her tighter. "Justin would never want you thinking this. Never. He chose what he did. Marcus did too. This isn't on you."
Then Dot leaned closer.
Her mouth near Mari's ear.
Her voice dropped so low no one else could hear it.
"This isn't healthy for the baby."
Mari froze.
Her sob cut off mid-breath.
Her entire body went still.
The Jeep kept moving.
The road stretched on.
And Mari stared ahead, one hand slowly, instinctively, pressing to her stomach as the weight of everything—loss, guilt, fear, and life—settled into her bones.
Behind her, Tally sat hollowed out, staring at nothing.
Justin was gone.
And for the first time, she understood that no amount of screaming could bring him back.