Leon watched the two of them through the rearview mirror, his curiosity finally winning out over his exhaustion.
"So, what brings a couple of college kids into the mouth of hell?" His voice had that forced steadiness of a rookie trying to sound like a veteran, but the genuine wonder bled through.
Claire leaned her head against the window, watching the skeletal remains of abandoned storefronts blur past. The dying flicker of neon signs traced tired lines across her face.
"I'm looking for my brother, Chris," she said. Her voice was flat, anchored by a resolve that didn't leave room for argument. "He stopped calling. No letters, no check-ins. It's not like him." She paused, glancing at Leon. "He's S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team."
A flicker of genuine awe crossed Leon's face. "S.T.A.R.S. elite... damn." He murmured the acronym like a prayer. "Your brother's a legend in the making." He shifted his gaze to the mirror, catching Noah's eyes. "And you? Don't tell me you're looking for a brother too."
Noah shrugged, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, restless beat against the steering wheel. "My girlfriend was coming here," he said simply. "I wasn't about to let her do it alone."
The answer was casual, almost flippant, but it hit Claire like a physical warmth. She didn't turn around, but a small, private smile touched her lips.
BEEP—BEEEEE-EEEEEP!
The roar of a heavy-duty air horn shattered the moment, vibrating through the Ford's frame. It was a sound of pure, mechanical rage.
Noah glanced at the mirror. His heart did a slow roll in his chest. A massive fuel tanker was barreling down the center line, its high beams blindingly white, closing the gap like a falling mountain. It was the truck from the gas station—and it was clearly out of control.
Noah slammed the accelerator to the floorboards. The Ford let out a mechanical scream, the chassis shaking so hard he thought the bolts might shear off.
"I insulted the guy once," Noah hissed, gritting his teeth as he wrestled the wheel. "Is he really going for a post-apocalyptic hit-and-run?"
Leon was pinned against the backseat, white-knuckling the ceiling handle. "What did you say to him?" he yelled over the wind. "Why is he trying to flatten us?"
"I told him I was on real good terms with his grandmother," Noah shouted back, eyes locked on the road.
Leon blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. The car was silent for three seconds, save for the screaming engine.
"Wait," Leon said, sounding genuinely distressed. "Do you... do you actually know his grandmother?"
The veins in Noah's temples throbbed. He didn't have the time—or the breath—to explain the finer points of aggressive linguistics.
"Guys?" Claire's voice cut through the bickering, sharp and cold. "The grandmother debate can wait. We've got a problem."
She pointed ahead. The road was a graveyard. A jackknifed bus and a pile of construction barriers formed a jagged wall across the asphalt. There was no way through.
"Hold on!" Noah growled. He yanked the wheel hard right, flooring the gas and the brake in a violent, synchronized dance.
The Ford's tires shrieked in protest as the back end swung out in a wide, lethal arc. The rear bumper kissed the brickwork of a corner building, sparks spraying like fireworks as Noah executed a desperate drift into a side street. They cleared the corner, momentarily losing the steel beast.
But the relief lasted all of five seconds. The side street was a dead end—blocked by a massive pile of rubble and wreckage.
"Out! Now!" Noah killed the engine before the car even stopped sliding.
He sprinted to the back and threw open the trunk. He grabbed the two tactical backpacks, slinging one over his shoulder and tossing the other to Claire. He reached into a side pocket, grabbing a handful of energy bars and water bottles, and shoved them at Leon as the officer stumbled out of the car.
Leon stuffed the supplies into his tactical pouches, looking dazed. "Thanks," he panted, a ghost of a smile appearing. "You know this is technically bribing an officer, right?"
Noah opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of an approaching hurricane cut him off.
The tanker rounded the corner at a suicidal speed. Its massive tires chewed through the pavement, and the silver tank swayed violently as the driver tried to overcorrect. The laws of physics took over. The entire rig tipped, the tank scraping the asphalt and igniting a river of sparks. It was a multi-ton sliding bomb, and it was headed right for them.
"Run!" Claire screamed, grabbing Noah's hand and lunging for a narrow alleyway.
Leon didn't need telling twice. As they bolted, he looked over his shoulder one last time. "Seriously! What about his grandmother?"
"Are you kidding me right now?!" Noah yelled back, his voice swallowed by a bone-shaking CRUNCH.
The tanker slammed into the Ford, flattening the sedan like a soda can. The impact ripped the fuel tank open. Gasoline met sparks, and the world turned orange.
BOOM.
The shockwave hit them like a physical wall, throwing all three of them into the air. Noah felt the breath leave his lungs as he slammed into the brick floor of the alley.
Then, there was only silence. A high-pitched, ringing whine filled his head, drowning out the world.
Noah's vision was a blurred mess of dancing spots. His head throbbed with the rhythmic pulse of a mild concussion. He forced himself upright, his limbs feeling like lead, and saw Claire nearby. She was curled in a ball, clutching her ears.
"Claire!"
He scrambled over, his hands trembling as he checked her for blood. Aside from some scrapes and a look of pure shock, she was intact. He pulled her into a tight embrace, needing the proof of her heartbeat against his chest.
"As long as you're okay," he whispered into her hair.
Across the alley, the fire was a roaring curtain of heat and black smoke, completely dividing the street. The Ford was gone—nothing more than a charred skeleton in the heart of the inferno.
"Leon!" Noah shouted, his voice cracking. "Leon, you there?"
A few seconds of crackling fire passed before a muffled voice drifted through the smoke.
"I'm alive!" Leon yelled from the other side. "My ears are ringing like a church bell, but I'm in one piece! I'll head for the station—meet you there!"
Noah heard the receding thud of boots. Leon was gone.
Noah and Claire stood up, shaking the soot from their clothes. The only way forward was the dark, narrow alley snaking deep into the city's heart.
Claire looked at Noah. He was empty-handed, his only weapon the heavy pack on his back and the dormant skills in his hands. She tightened her grip on the silver Browning she'd salvaged from the cruiser.
"Stay close," she whispered.
Noah nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Always."