The van rumbled along the highway, the endless stretch of asphalt unfurling before them. Tommy stared out the passenger window, his eyes tracking the barren landscape without really seeing it. His mind was elsewhere, lost in a maze of grief and guilt that seemed to have no end.

Zero sat behind the wheel, his jaw set and his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. In the back, Roxy and Jimbo made small talk, their voices a low murmur beneath the hum of the engine. But there was a heaviness to their words, a forced levity that couldn’t quite mask the sorrow.

Laila was quiet, withdrawn in a way that made Tommy’s chest ache. She sat huddled against the window, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could somehow hold in the pain that threatened to consume her.

They were halfway to Columbia, Missouri, the miles falling away beneath their wheels. But the fuel gauge dipped low, the needle edging towards empty with each passing minute.

“We need to find a gas station soon,” Zero said, his voice cutting through the silence. “We’re not going to make it much further on fumes.”

Tommy nodded, his fingers drumming a restless beat against his thigh. He scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of civilisation amidst the endless fields and farmhouses.

Ahead of them, a small town loomed, its streets choked with the shambling forms of the undead. They filled the main road like a dam, blocking their path forward.

“Damn it.” Zero slammed on the brakes, the van lurching to a stop just shy of the horde. “We can’t go through that.”

Roxy leaned forward “Is there another way around?”

Zero consulted the map spread across his lap, his finger tracing the spiderweb of back roads. “Maybe. If we cut through the residential area, we might be able to bypass the worst of it.”

Tommy chewed his lip. Every blind corner, every overgrown lawn could be hiding a fresh horror, a new threat waiting to leap out at them.

But what choice did they have? They couldn’t go back, couldn’t risk running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere. They had to press on, had to find a way through.

“Do it,” he said. “Just…just be careful.”

Zero grunted his assent and eased the van into gear, steering them away from the main road and into the labyrinth of side streets.

The houses stood dark and silent. Cars sat abandoned in driveways, their doors hanging open and their interiors stripped bare. It was as if the entire neighbourhood had vanished, swallowed up by the apocalypse.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Jimbo said. “But I’m not sure I have another fight in me. Not today.”

Roxy nodded, her hand straying to the hilt of her machete. “Same here. I’m sick of this, you know? I just want to curl up somewhere safe and binge-watch something mindless.”

Tommy understood the sentiment all too well. The constant fear, the never-ending struggle to survive…it wore on a person, grinding them down until there was nothing left but raw nerve endings and a bone-deep weariness.

But they couldn’t afford to give in to that exhaustion, couldn’t let their guard down even for a moment. He reminded himself why he was still doing this, why he was set on getting back to Philly, getting back to Niamh and Sean.

“If we have to fight, we will,” Zero said. “We don’t have a choice.”

Roxy sighed. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Jimbo attempted a weak grin. “Hey, at least with Micky gone, we can focus on getting back without having to search for meds every five minutes, right? Silver linings, and all that.”

The words hung in the air.

Tommy felt them as a knife twist to the gut.

Laila made a small, pained sound.

Jimbo’s face fell. “Too soon?”

Laila shook her head, turning to stare out the window once more. Tommy reached back, squeezing her hand.

They drove on in silence, the only sound the low rumble of the engine and the distant moans of the undead.

Tommy scanned the streets ahead, a pulse pounding in his skull with each turn, each blind corner.

But they encountered no resistance, no fresh horrors lurking in the shadows.

They emerged from the residential streets, the open road stretching out before them once more.

Tommy let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. They had made it through, had avoided another pitched battle.

But their gas tank was still running on fumes, the needle dipping lower with each passing mile. They needed to find a station, and fast.

Zero consulted the map once more, his brow furrowed in concentration. “There’s a town called Boonville coming up in about twenty miles. Might be our best bet for fuel.”

Tommy nodded, his jaw tight. Twenty miles. It might as well have been a thousand, with the way their luck had been going.

He leaned his head back against the seat, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. He was exhausted in a way that sleep could never touch.

But he couldn’t rest. Not now. Not with the image of Micky’s dying face haunting his thoughts.

So he focused on the road ahead, on the miles falling away. His mind kept drifting to thoughts of Micky, of the laughter and the music and the bonds that had kept them going.

Abandoned cars and wrecks littered the road, forcing Zero to slow down.

“What the hell happened here?” Jimbo gestured to the abandoned vehicles. “It’s like everyone just vanished.”

Zero shook his head, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. “Could be anything. Zombies, raiders, military evacuations. Doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that we keep moving.” The van lurched and spluttered to a stop.

“What’s happening?” Jimbo asked.

“We’re out of gas.” Zero slammed a hand down on the steering wheel.

“We need to find a station,” Tommy said. “There’s got to be one around here somewhere.”

Roxy leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “And what if there’s not? What if everything’s been picked clean already?”

He met her gaze. “Then we find another way.”

They gathered their essentials, stuffing food and water and weapons into their packs. Tommy made sure to grab the gas can from the back of the van

And then they set out, leaving the van behind.

They walked in silence. Tommy scanned the road ahead, taking in the scattered debris and abandoned cars.

Bullet casings glinted in the fading light. Dark stains spattered the road.

Behind him, Laila lagged, her steps heavy and shoulders slumped.

The others shot her worried looks. But Laila brushed them off, her gaze fixed on the ground.

As the hours passed and the sun began to sink towards the horizon, the group grew increasingly fatigued.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

“We can’t keep going like this,” Roxy said. “We need to find somewhere to hole up for the night.”

Zero nodded. “There’s got to be a house or a barn or something around here. We just need to keep looking.”

“We could go back to the van,” Jimbo said. “At least we know it’s secure.”

Tommy shook his head. “No. We keep going. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

He squinted through the gathering dusk, his eyes straining to pierce the shadows.

“Over there.” Zero pointed to a house set back from the road, its windows dark, its front yard bordered by a sturdy-looking fence.

“That could work,” Tommy said.

“I’ll go check it out. Wait here.” He unslung his rifle and moved off towards the house.

Tommy and the others waited in silence, their eyes scanning the surrounding darkness for any sign of movement.

After a minute or so, Zero reappeared. “It’s clear. No corpses, no sign of anyone living. Looks like it’s been abandoned for a while.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. “Let’s get inside, shore it up as best we can.”

Tommy made his way up the path, his bat at the ready, and followed Zero through the front door.

Inside, the house was dark and musty,. They moved through the rooms, flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.

In the kitchen, Tommy found a few cans of food in the cupboards. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

He joined the others, barricading the entrances as best they could, pushing heavy furniture against the doors and covering the windows with whatever they could find.

With the house as secure as they could make it, they gathered in the living room, huddling around a small fire Zero had built in the fireplace.

As they ate canned beans and stale crackers, Jimbo rummaged through the kitchen drawers, his eyes lighting up as he pulled out a handful of drinking straws. “Hey, who’s up for some cocktails? I make a mean Zombie Sunrise.”

Zero looked up from his can and slapped his forehead. “How could I be so stupid?”

Jimbo frowned. “Huh?”

Zero rose to his feet. “Straws. We can siphon gas. Why the hell didn’t I think of that before?”

“You’re right,” Tommy said. “We’ve been passing abandoned cars for miles.”

Roxy nodded. “Beats wandering around on foot, that’s for sure.”

As the night wore on, they took turns keeping watch, peering out through the gaps in the barricades for any signs of trouble.

Laila curled up on the couch, her eyes drifting shut.

Tommy sat by the dying fire, his gaze distant. Beside him, Roxy shifted, her shoulder brushing against his.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about Micky. All the crazy times we had together back in Philly.” Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked them away, but more followed.

Roxy reached out, her hand finding his in the darkness. She twined their fingers together, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a gentle, comforting motion. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. I know how much he meant to you.”

Tommy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder as the grief washed over him in waves.

They sat like that for a long time, the silence broken only by the crackle of the dying fire.

Roxy sat up and cleared her throat. “Tommy, I need to tell you something.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze in the flickering light.

“I care about you, Tommy. As more than just a friend. And I know you feel it too, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”

He thought back to that moment in Kansas, the electricity that had crackled between them as they stood together on stage, the sound of the crowd fading to a distant roar.

He had felt it then, that undeniable pull, that sense of connection that went beyond mere friendship. And he had felt it again after the show, the growing closeness between them taking on new depth and meaning.

But he had pushed it down, had buried it beneath the weight of his grief and his guilt and his desperate, aching hope that somehow, someway, he would make it back to Niamh and Sean.

“Rox…I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

He saw the hurt flash across her face, the way her shoulders slumped and her hand went slack in his.

She pulled away, her eyes shimmering. “I knew you’d say that. You’re still holding out for Niamh, even after everything we’ve been through together, everything we’ve lost.”

He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back and tell her that he did feel something for her.

Instead, he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Roxy stood. “Yeah. So am I.” She turned and walked away, disappearing down the hallway.

Tommy sat there for a long time, staring into the dying embers, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions.

Finally, he stood, his joints aching from the long hours of walking.

He made his way into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards in search of something, anything to dull the pain that throbbed in his chest.

His fingers closed around the neck of a bottle, and he pulled it out, squinting at the label in the dim light. Whiskey, the cheap stuff that burned going down.

He hesitated, staring at the bottle in his hand.

The push. The pull.

The revulsion. The desire.

He had sworn off drinking years ago, had embraced the straight edge lifestyle with a fervour that bordered on religious.

The bold black Xs tattooed on the backs of his hands were a constant reminder of that commitment, a symbol of his dedication to a life free from the temptations of alcohol and drugs.

The music was more than enough.

Or, at least, it was.

Now, with the weight of Micky’s loss and Roxy’s rejection crushing down on him, the thought of Niamh and Sean still being out there, and the thought of them not—that dedication seemed like a hollow thing, a flimsy shield against the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

With shaking hands, he unscrewed the cap, the sharp scent of alcohol reaching him like an old friend. He raised the bottle to his lips, hot tears stinging his eyes as he took a long, burning swallow.

The whiskey seared his throat.

He took another swallow, then another, feeling the numbness begin to creep over him, dulling the edges of his pain.

He let the tears come then, let them spill down his face in hot, silent tracks as he drank, drowning his sorrows in the comfort of the bottle.

And as he pulled his sleeves down over the Xs on his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder what Niamh would say if she could see him now.

The morning sun cast a dull, hazy glow on the horizon as Tommy emerged from the house, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He squinted against the light, shading his eyes with a hand as he surveyed the area.

The others were already up and about, gathering their gear and checking their weapons.

Zero crouched beside an abandoned car, a length of rubber tubing in his hand and a look of grim determination on his face.

Tommy made his way over, trying to ignore the way the world seemed to tilt and sway with each step. “What’s the plan?”

Zero glanced up, his eyes narrowed. “We siphon what gas we can from these cars, then we head back to the van. With any luck, we’ll have enough to get us to Columbia.”

Tommy nodded, his gaze sliding to Roxy. She stood a little apart from the others, her arms crossed and her face unreadable. The events of the previous night hung between them, a barrier that he didn’t know how to breach.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her. “Rox, about last night…”

She cut him off with a sharp look. “Don’t, Tommy. Just…don’t.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Roxy let out a brittle laugh, shaking her head. “You didn’t hurt me, Tommy. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little rejection.” She uncrossed her arms, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “But I won’t be anyone’s second choice.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I just…I can’t give up on Niamh. On Sean. They’re my family.”

“I get it, Tommy. Believe me, I do. But you can’t keep living in the past. You have to focus on the here and now, on the people who are still with you.” She reached out, laying a hand on his arm. “We’re your family too, you know.”

“And I’m grateful for that, more than you can imagine.”

Roxy gave his arm a squeeze, then pulled away, her nose wrinkling. “God, your breath reeks. What did you do, gargle with a bottle of Jack last night?”

A flush of shame creeped up his neck, and he ducked his head. “It won’t happen again.”

Roxy snorted, shaking her head. “Sure it won’t.”

He flinched at the words. But he knew she was right. He had let his grief and his guilt get the best of him, had let himself slip back into old habits that he thought he had left behind long ago. “I mean it, Rox.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “Alright, Tommy. But you have to prove it, not just to me, but to yourself.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Tommy standing there, his head pounding.

He watched as she joined the others, watched as Zero showed them how to siphon gas from the cars, the tube held between his teeth as he sucked.

They worked quickly, moving from car to car, filling up their gas cans with the precious fuel. Laila was quiet and withdrawn throughout, her eyes distant and her movements mechanical.

After what felt like hours, they had filled the can, the weight of it dragging at Tommy’s arms as they made their way back to the van.

His head throbbed with every step, the hangover a constant, nagging reminder of his weakness.

Jimbo fell into step beside Tommy. “Everything alright with you and Roxy?”

Tommy shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Come on, dude. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Tommy sighed. “I don’t know, man. Everything’s just so screwed up. Micky’s gone, and I can’t stop thinking about Niamh and Sean, wondering if they’re even still alive. And then there’s Roxy…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You can’t make it right, T. Not really. All you can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other. We’ve all lost people. We’ve all got regrets. But we can’t let them define us. We have to keep fighting, keep holding onto the hope that somehow, someway, we’ll make it through this.”

Tommy nodded. “Thanks, Jimbo. I needed to hear that.”

Jimbo grinned. “Anytime, dude. Just don’t go getting all sappy on me now. We’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head, and together they walked on, the sun beating down on them.

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the van, the shadows lengthening and the air cooling as the sun dipped towards the horizon.

But as they drew closer, Tommy froze. A lone zombie shambled towards them, its movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Roxy roared, her machete blade slicing through rotten flesh like it was nothing.

The zombie crumpled to the ground, its head rolling away into the dirt.

Tommy and the others approached cautiously, their weapons at the ready. But the zombie lay still.

Roxy wiped her blade on the leg of her jeans. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They piled into the van, Roxy taking the wheel as Tommy slid into the passenger seat beside her. Zero and Jimbo climbed into the back, Laila following close behind.

Roxy turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtering to life with a cough. She glanced over at Tommy, her eyes unreadable. “You ready for this?”

He nodded, his jaw set. “As I’ll ever be.”