The world was quiet the next morning. Not peaceful. Just... quiet.
The kind of silence that sits on your chest and presses until your ribs ache.
They had survived the night again.
Asher stretched slowly under the makeshift canvas tent, careful not to wake Mia, who had drooled all over his hoodie. Ethan was already up, outside near the smoldering fire pit. The sky was gray, clouds rolling in like bruises across the heavens.
Another storm coming?
"Hey," Asher whispered, crawling out. "You look like you haven't slept."
Ethan handed him a cup of warm water. "Didn't want to. Felt like if I closed my eyes too long, I'd wake up back on that train."
Asher took a sip and sat beside him.
"I know what you mean."
A rustle to their left pulled their attention. Sienna emerged from another tent, hair wild, yawning. Leo followed behind, dragging his feet and squinting at the sky like it had personally offended him.
"Everyone else still asleep?" Asher asked.
"Yeah," Sienna said. "Jordy's snoring like a dying goat. I'm starting to think it's his defense mechanism."
They chuckled, but the sound died quickly.
Jason and Elara were nowhere in sight. They had left before sunrise to scout a nearby gas station for fuel, food, or—if the universe was generous—any kind of working vehicle. Malik had gone with them.
But the rest of the group stayed behind with Mia, who had developed a fever overnight.
"She's been through too much," Ethan muttered, watching her tiny frame still curled under the blankets. "Her immune system's probably shot."
Asher nodded. "We need meds."
"We need a miracle."
By midmorning, the scouts returned.
Jason's face was grim. Elara's jacket was stained. Malik didn't speak.
"We found a pharmacy," Jason said, voice low. "Mostly ransacked, but there was one unopened box of antibiotics. We brought it."
Relief spread like wildfire.
Then Elara continued. "We also found movement. People. But... not like us."
Ethan tensed. "Infected?"
"Worse," Malik finally spoke. "People wearing gas masks. Watching. Not helping."
That familiar fear crept back in. Even in survival, someone was still controlling this chaos.
"We need to move again," Jason said.
"But Mia—" Asher began.
"She can't travel far," Ethan added.
"We don't have a choice," Jason replied. "The longer we stay in one place, the more likely someone or something finds us."
They agreed to rest for one more night, then head west at first light.
That night felt different. It was colder. Heavier. Like the calm before something awful.
And it was.
The Next Day
They made it half a mile before the attack began.
Jordy was the first to hear it—footsteps, fast and jagged, crashing through the trees.
"Zombies!" he shouted, but it was too late.
Four of them burst through the underbrush, their eyes white, mouths red, arms flailing wildly. The group scattered, instinctively forming a defensive circle.
Jason took out one with a hunting knife straight to the temple.
Malik grabbed Mia and ran with Ethan and Sienna toward a collapsed shed.
Asher, Leo, Casey, and Jordy tried to hold off the others.
But one zombie moved fast.
Too fast.
It slammed into the girlfriend—the quiet girl who had rarely spoken since her boyfriend died. The one who had barely left her corner. The one who carried his sweater everywhere she went.
She let out a single scream as the zombie lunged at her, teeth sinking deep into her shoulder.
Casey shouted, charging toward her, but it was already too late.
Blood sprayed.
She staggered, clutching her arm, eyes wide with disbelief.
"I... I didn't feel it at first," she whispered. "It just burned."
Asher ran to her side, but Jason grabbed his arm.
"No," he said. "She's infected."
"We can save her—"
"There's no saving anymore."
Her breaths came faster. Her skin paled. Her eyes flickered.
She looked up at the group, trembling, and then down at the photograph in her trembling hand—her boyfriend's face still smiling at her in the picture.
"I want to be with him," she whispered.
Then, before she could turn, Jason raised his knife.
And ended it.
Silence fell like a curtain.
No one moved for a long time.
Even the birds had stopped singing.
Mia, still hidden in the shed with Ethan and Malik, had seen the whole thing through a crack in the wall.
She didn't speak the rest of the day.
That night, the fire felt cold. The marshmallows were left untouched. Even Jordy didn't joke.
Asher sat beside Ethan, Mia asleep on his lap.
"I feel like the world's trying to rip pieces out of us," Asher whispered.
"It is," Ethan replied. "But we keep sewing ourselves back together."
"With what?"
"Each other."
Mia stirred. She looked up at them with tired eyes.
"Is everyone I love going to die?"
Asher froze.
Ethan bent down and held her face gently. "No. Not if we have anything to say about it."
Mia's bottom lip quivered. "Promise?"
Asher put a hand over her small fingers. "Promise."
The Following Morning
The group moved again.
Less lively. Less hopeful.
But still moving.
They reached the edge of an abandoned city by noon—cars rusting on the sides of the roads, buildings hollowed out, signs blown over by wind and time.
As they approached, they passed a wall covered in graffiti.
Words scrawled in red spray paint:"WE DID THIS TO OURSELVES."
No one spoke.
Inside one of the buildings, they found shelter—an old diner, windows intact, food still rotting behind counters. But it was secure.
They rested there, boarded the doors, and took turns keeping watch.
That night, it rained.
Ethan sat by the window, watching water slide down the cracked glass.
Asher came over, wrapping a blanket around both of them.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No," Ethan admitted.
"Me neither."
Mia, asleep in a booth nearby, curled under a jacket too big for her.
"She called me Daddy again today," Ethan said.
"She called me Dad."
They smiled a little, tired and heavy-hearted.
"We're all she has now," Asher whispered. "And I don't want to let her down."
"You won't," Ethan said. "Because I'm not letting you down."
Asher looked over at him. "You're still with me?"
"Always."
Their fingers interlocked, quietly.
Behind them, Jordy let out a loud snore that startled Leo into falling off his bench. Malik muttered something about throwing him outside next time.
It wasn't joy.
But it was life.
And it was still theirs.
The rain didn't let up.
It tapped steadily on the diner windows like a soft drum, playing a lullaby the world had long forgotten. Most of the group had fallen asleep, curled under blankets or resting against the cold tile floor.
But Asher couldn't sleep.
Neither could Ethan.
They sat in the farthest booth of the diner, across from each other, a dim lantern flickering between them. The light danced on Ethan's face, tracing the curve of his jaw, the tired lines around his eyes, and the hint of worry always lingering on his brow now.
"I miss stupid things," Asher murmured, voice low.
Ethan tilted his head. "Like what?"
Asher's fingers brushed the condensation on the window beside him. "The sound of cleats on pavement. Warm showers. Your cologne."
Ethan blinked.
Then smiled faintly. "You remember that?"
"You always wore it on game days. Smelled like citrus and nerves."
"You hated it."
"I lied."
Ethan leaned back, watching him. "You always do that—pretend to hate what you love."
Asher's gaze lifted. Their eyes met across the booth. The air between them suddenly felt charged, the rain outside a distant hum compared to the thunder of Asher's heartbeat.
"I don't want to pretend anymore," Asher said quietly.
Ethan didn't speak.
He stood up slowly, walked around the booth, and slid in beside Asher.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, silence stretching between them like a thread pulled tight.
Asher turned his head just slightly. "If we weren't hiding this… if this was before…"
Ethan reached out and gently cupped the back of Asher's neck. "There is no before anymore. Only now."
Their foreheads touched.
Warm breath mingled. Hearts pounding.
And then—as if the storm outside pulled them together—they kissed.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't desperate.
It was soft, slow, trembling. A promise made in the ruins of a broken world. Asher leaned in, hands tangled in Ethan's hoodie. Ethan kissed him like they had time—like this wasn't a goodbye but the beginning of something real.
When they finally pulled back, Asher rested his head on Ethan's shoulder.
"I'm scared," he whispered.
"So am I," Ethan replied, wrapping his arms around him. "But I'd rather be scared with you than brave without you."
They stayed like that, holding each other in the dark.
Minutes passed. The rain softened. The storm moved on.
But they didn't let go.
Not yet.
Across the diner, Mia stirred in her sleep. Jason, still awake by the door, glanced over and saw them.
And said nothing.
Because sometimes, in a dying world, love was the only thing left worth protecting.