The first light of dawn was a pale whisper through the curtains when Ethan's eyes flickered open. Lily's breaths were still even and deep, the innocence of sleep clinging to her features. His gaze then shifted, searching for Milana, and found her slumped against the wall, her head bowed, her chest rising and falling with the slow cadence of slumber. She'd fallen asleep on her watch.

Ethan rose quietly, his joints protesting with a chorus of cracks and pops. He tiptoed across the room, the floorboards holding their peace beneath his careful steps. He crouched down beside Milana, observing her for a moment. Her face, relaxed in sleep, was devoid of the tension that had been etched there from the day before.

“Milana,” Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible. Her eyes opened instantly, and for a second, they were wide with the disorientation of waking in an unfamiliar place. She straightened up, a flush of guilt rising to her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Her voice trailed off, but Ethan shook his head.

“It’s fine. You needed the rest,” he reassured her, his hand touching her shoulder briefly in a gesture of absolution. “But I’ve got to head out now. I need to find us a car.”

Milana nodded, her eyes now clear. “Be careful,” she said, with concern in her voice.

Ethan gathered a few things, the contents of his pockets minimal but essential. He glanced back at Lily, still lost in dreams, her small hand clutching the blanket. His heart clenched, the image of her peaceful slumber a stark contrast to the danger he was about to face.

The morning was cool, the air a touch on his skin that spoke of both the promise of the day and the chill of the unknown. As Ethan stepped out, the world was silent except for the distant, sporadic cry of a bird — a sound that seemed both hopeful and haunting.

The street was empty, buildings standing like silent sentinels on either side. He made his way cautiously, every sense alert. His eyes scanned for movement, his ears strained for any sound out of place, and the grip of the screwdriver in his hand was both comforting and disconcerting.

A car was parked haphazardly on the curb ahead, its doors ajar, a testament to the haste of its last occupants. Ethan approached it, his footsteps muffled by the undercurrent of his own quickening pulse. As he neared the vehicle, his reflection caught in the side mirror — a man changed by circumstance, his weariness etched into the lines of his face.

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Inside, the car was abandoned, the keys still dangling from the ignition. A stroke of luck, or fate, Ethan wasn’t sure which. He slid into the driver's seat, the fabric of the seat cool against his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The keys turned with an ease that felt like a small victory.

Ethan’s hands trembled slightly with the mixture of hope and anxiety as he wrapped his fingers around the keys. "First good thing that's happened to me in a while," he murmured to himself, a faint smile attempting to break through the worry that had become his constant companion.

But the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared when he turned the key and the engine remained silent, the dashboard's lights mocking him with their lifeless stare. His heart sank; the fuel gauge needle was firmly on E. "What are the chances?" Ethan growled under his breath, a surge of frustration boiling within him. He pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, the thud resonating in the quiet morning air.

With a deep breath to quell his rising anger, Ethan stepped out of the car, his mind racing to figure out his next move. He needed gas, but from where? His gaze swept absentmindedly across the desolate street, as he thought.

A memory flickered — just a couple of blocks down, there was a gas station. It was a stretch, but perhaps there was still some fuel there. It was a risk, walking out in the open, but necessity spurred him on.

Ethan started making his way to the gas station, the screwdriver tight in his grasp, his eyes vigilant, scanning the surroundings for any hint of movement, any whisper of threat. The light of dawn gave the world a soft focus, lending a false sense of tranquility to the streets that had once thrummed with life. It wasn't until he rounded a corner that the first signs of movement caught his eye — shapes shuffling aimlessly in the middle distance.

His heart lurched. There they were — the wandering groups of zombies that until now, he had only managed to avoid by sheer luck or careful timing. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, a grim reminder of the new reality. His breath caught in his throat as he quickly assessed his situation. With a grimace, Ethan slipped behind an overturned vending machine, his body tensed and ready to move at the slightest hint of detection.

The groans and shuffling of the undead grew louder as they approached. Ethan could see their figures more clearly now — their tattered clothes, the vacant stare in their eyes. They were close, too close. He felt a bead of sweat trail down his temple, the sensation a stark reminder of the danger he faced.

He waited, barely daring to breathe as the group passed by. They were oblivious to his presence, their senses dulled in death, yet still an undeniable threat. Once the sound of their moaning faded, Ethan emerged from his hiding place, casting a wary glance behind him before continuing on.

With the gas station now only a block away, Ethan’s pace became more determined. The familiar logo grew larger as he approached, and a surge of hope propelled him forward. As Ethan stood before the gas station at last, a fleeting sense of relief washed over him.

"Finally!" Ethan exhaled, his voice tinged with a quiet cheer. "Now, let's find some gas for us."