As the van rumbled down the highway, leaving Columbia behind, a sombre silence settled over the group. The weight of their recent losses hung heavy, a palpable presence that couldn’t be ignored.

“We can’t keep going like this,” Zero said, his voice rough. “Our weapons, our supplies…they’re not enough. Not anymore.”

Tommy looked up from where he sat hunched in the passenger seat, his head throbbing with the remnants of his hangover. “What are you saying, Zero?”

“I’m saying we need to stock up on weapons and ammo, on anything that can give us an edge out there.” Zero’s gaze swept over the others. “First chance we get, we hit up any place that might have what we need. Military surplus stores, gun shops…anything.”

Tommy nodded, his jaw tight. “You’re right. We can’t afford to be caught off guard again.”

Zero grunted, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he guided the van towards the distant horizon. “St. Louis isn’t far from here. Big city like that, there’s bound to be places we can scavenge for gear.”

Roxy leaned forward from the backseat. “You want us to go back into a city? After Denver?”

Tommy turned to her. “We can’t keep running forever, Rox. We need supplies, and a big city like St. Louis is our best bet.”

Roxy shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. We barely made it out of Denver alive. What makes you think St. Louis will be any different?”

Zero scoffed. “We don’t have a choice. We’re running low on everything, and we need to restock if we want to survive.”

Roxy leaned back, her arms crossed over her chest. “There has to be another way. Smaller towns, rural areas. Somewhere safer.”

Tommy sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, I get it. Going into the city is a risk. But we can’t keep scavenging in the sticks and expect decent results.”

Jimbo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m with Zero. We need better weapons, dude. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel a whole lot safer with a real gun in my hands instead of this stupid nine iron.”

Roxy shot him a look. “Guns attract attention, Jimbo. The sound, the flash. It’s like ringing the dinner bell for every zombie in the area.”

Jimbo shrugged. “Maybe. But at least we’d stand a better chance.”

Tommy held up his hands, trying to calm the rising tension. “Okay, look. How about a compromise? We go into St. Louis, but we keep it low-key. Stick to the outskirts, scout around a bit. If things look dicey, we bail out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks.”

Zero gave a nod. “Fine. But we need to move fast. In and out, no dawdling.”

Jimbo leaned back in his seat. “I’m cool with that. Zombies are one thing, but it’s the humans that really scare me. At least with the dead-heads, you know what you’re getting. But people? They’re unpredictable. Dangerous.”

Roxy sighed. “Not all of them. We’ve met good people too, Jimbo. People who helped us, who took us in when we needed it most.”

Zero sniffed. “And look how that turned out. Those ‘good people’ at Haven? They were a bunch of psychos. And the library? They couldn’t even protect their own.”

Roxy opened her mouth to argue, but Zero cut her off with a sharp gesture. “Face it, Rox. In this world, you can’t trust anyone but yourself and your own. Everybody else is just a liability waiting to happen.”

A heavy silence settled over the van.

Tommy glanced over at Laila, who sat huddled against the window, her gaze distant and unfocused. “What do you think, Lai?”

Laila didn’t respond, her eyes never leaving the landscape outside. After a long moment, she gave a slight shrug, her shoulders barely moving.

Tommy sighed, turning back to face the road ahead. He understood Laila’s silence, her withdrawal. After everything they’d been through, after all the losses and the horrors, it was a miracle any of them could still function at all.

Roxy sank back into her seat. “Do whatever you want. I just want to get back home. That’s all that matters now.”

Tommy nodded, his chest tightening. Home seemed like such a distant concept now, a fading memory of a life that no longer existed. But still, the thought of seeing Niamh and Sean again, of holding them in his arms and knowing they were safe…it was the one thing that kept him going.

But as the miles fell away beneath the van’s wheels, his mind drifted to thoughts of Dr. Jameson, of the way the man had welcomed them into his community, had fought and died to protect the knowledge he held so dear. He thought of the survivors they had left behind, the men and women who had chosen to stay and continue the professor’s work.

And he thought of Micky, lying cold and still in a makeshift grave, his life cut short by the cruel whims of fate.

The guilt and the grief threatened to overwhelm him, to drag him down into the dark abyss that yawned at the edges of his consciousness. But he pushed it away, forcing himself to focus on the present, on the challenges that lay ahead.

There was only survival, raw and brutal and unrelenting.

They were broken and battered, scarred in ways that might never fully heal. But they were still alive.

Still breathing.

Still fighting.

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the outskirts of the city, the sun casting long shadows.

“There.” Zero pointed towards a low building set back from the road. “Police station. Looks abandoned.”

Tommy peered through the windshield, his eyes straining to make out the details of the structure. It was a squat, unassuming thing, its windows dark and its parking lot empty. “You sure about this?”

Zero shot him a look, his eyes hard. “Without taking a closer look, I’m about as sure as I can be, Tommy boy.”

“Alright, you don’t have to be a dick about it. It just looks very quiet.”

“Quiet is good. Means there’s less chance of running into trouble.” Zero brought the van to a stop, the engine idling as he surveyed the police station. After a long moment, he shook his head and threw the vehicle into reverse, backing up until they were facing the road once more.

“What the hell are you doing?” Roxy asked.

“Making sure we have a clear exit strategy if things go south in there.” He killed the engine and turned to face the others. “Alright, listen up. Stay alert, stay focused. Check your corners, watch each other’s backs. Anything looks off, you speak up. Clear?”

They gathered their weapons and filed out of the van, Zero taking point as they approached the police station.

Tommy fell into step beside him, his bat gripped tight in his hands.

Zero held up a hand and cocked his head. After a moment, he gestured for them to fan out, moving in a slow, cautious arc around the building’s perimeter.

Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every rustle of wind a potential warning of danger.

Zero paused at each window, each doorway, his rifle at the ready.

They completed their circuit of the building, meeting back up at the front entrance. Zero held up a hand, his eyes narrowing as he studied the heavy metal doors. “Looks clear. But there could be a whole horde of zombies waiting for us on the other side.”

Roxy shifted her weight, her machete glinting in the fading light. “So what’s the plan? We just go in blind, hope for the best?”

Zero shook his head. “No. We do this properly. Tommy, you’re on point. I’ll be right behind you. Roxy, Jimbo, you cover our flanks. And Laila…” He glanced over at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You stay in the middle, keep an eye on our backs. Anything moves, you shout out.”

Laila nodded.

He turned back to Tommy, his jaw set. “You ready for this?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Zero gave a curt nod, then reached out and grasped the door’s handle. “Alright. On my count. Three, two, one…”

He yanked the door open, the hinges shrieking in protest.

Tommy darted through the opening, his bat at the ready, his heart pounding in his ears.

The lobby loomed dark and still, the air heavy with the scent of dust and stale coffee. Tommy swept his flashlight beam across the room, its beam catching on overturned furniture and scattered debris.

On Zero’s signal, the others fanned out, each taking a different section of the room, their weapons at the ready.

Tommy’s eyes strained to pierce the gloom, his muscles tense. But there was no sign of life or unlife in the abandoned station. Just the oppressive weight of silence, broken only by the soft creak of their footsteps on the dusty floor.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“We check every room,” Zero said. “Every closet. And stay quiet.”

As they moved through the station, Tommy half-expected a zombie to come lurching out of the shadows at any moment, its jaws snapping and its eyes glazed with hunger.

But the station remained still and silent, the only sound the soft rasp of their own breathing and the occasional clatter when someone kicked aside debris.

Tommy led the way through offices and hallways, his flashlight cutting through the blackness. Desks and filing cabinets lay overturned, their contents scattered across the floor. Bullet holes pockmarked the walls.

His torch lingered on a sign. He glanced back at the others. “The armoury.”

“Jackpot,” Jimbo said.

Tommy nudged the door with his bat and waited.

Nothing.

He gave a nod and pushed the door open fully.

Inside, the racks and shelves stood empty.

“Looks like it’s already been picked clean.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Tommy boy.” Zero’s torch beam lingered on a small open box tucked under one of the shelves. He picked up a bullet, turning it over in his fingers. “.223 Remington.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “How many?”

“Enough to make a difference.” Zero began scooping the bullets into his pack, his movements quick and efficient.

Roxy rattled the handle of a metal locker, cursing under her breath. “Jimbo, give me a hand with this.”

Jimbo grinned and hefted his golf club. “Stand back.” He swung hard, the metal denting under the force of the blow.

It took a few more swings, but finally the locker door gave way.

Roxy reached inside, rummaging through the contents.

“Anything good?” Tommy asked, moving to join her.

Roxy emerged with a police baton and riot shield. “Not much, but better than nothing.” She tossed the baton to Jimbo and handed the shield to Laila.

Laila took it, her fingers running over the scuffed surface. “I don’t know if I can use this.”

“You don’t have to fight with it,” Tommy said. “Just hold onto it for now, protect yourself if things get hairy.”

Laila nodded, slipping her arm through the straps.

Zero finished loading the bullets into his pack and straightened up. “Alright, let’s keep looking. There might be more scattered around.”

They fanned out again, each taking a section of the armoury. Tommy moved down the aisles, checking each shelf and drawer for anything of use.

Roxy appeared at the end of the aisle, a handful of pistol magazines in her hands. “Found these in a desk drawer. Looks like nine millimetre. Might be good for trade if we can’t find anything to use them in.”

As they regrouped near the entrance, Zero did a quick inventory of their haul. “Okay, so we’ve got a couple hundred rounds of .223, maybe fifty shotgun shells, and a handful of nine mil mags. Plus the baton and the shield.”

Jimbo hefted the baton, giving it an experimental swing. “Not bad for a quick smash and grab.”

Roxy snorted. “Speak for yourself. I was hoping for a grenade launcher, at least.”

A low, guttural moan, echoed through the halls.

Tommy’s head snapped up.

They weren’t alone anymore.

Zero moved to the door, his rifle at the ready. He peered out into the hallway, his head cocked.

The moan came again, louder this time. Closer.

Laila clutched the riot shield to her chest. Jimbo and Roxy moved to flank Zero, their weapons drawn.

Tommy gripped his bat tighter. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to push down the fear and focus on the task at hand.

Zero glanced back at him. “We move fast and quiet. Stick together, cover each other’s backs. Anything gets in our way, we put it down hard.”

He led the way out into the darkened hallway, Roxy and Jimbo falling into step behind him.

Tommy took up the rear, Laila just ahead of him with the shield held before her.

The moans grew louder. The scrape of feet on tile, the rustle of clothing.

They rounded a corner and a dozen or more of the undead shuffled towards them.

Zero dropped to one knee, his rifle snapping up to his shoulder. He fired once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Three zombies dropped, their heads exploding in a spray of blood and brain matter.

Tommy charged forward, his bat whistling through the air as he closed the distance. He felt the impact shudder up his arms as he connected with the first zombie’s skull.

Beside him, Roxy hacked and slashed at the reaching arms and snapping jaws. Jimbo attacked with the baton, the heavy steel rod pulping flesh and shattering bone with each brutal impact.

And Laila stood her ground, her tyre iron swinging.

The zombies clawed at her shield, their fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface. But she held firm, using the shield’s weight to bash them back, to create a space for the others to work.

Zombies fell before them, their bodies piling up in a barricade of twisted limbs and shattered skulls.

Tommy could feel his strength flagging, could feel the burn of exhaustion settling into his muscles. Beside him, the others breathed hard, their faces slick with sweat and spattered with gore.

“We need to move,” Zero said. “Head for the front doors, now!”

Roxy and Jimbo redoubled their efforts, carving a path through the press of bodies. Laila fell in behind them, using the shield to cover their retreat.

Tommy brought up the rear, his bat swinging to keep the zombies at bay.

Zero’s rifle barked somewhere up ahead, it’s muzzle flashes strobing the gloom.

Tommy reached the front door, bursting out into the fading daylight as they sprinted for the van.

Behind him, the zombies stumbled and lurched.

Tommy and the others reached the van well ahead of the shambling horde, piling inside with a frantic scramble of limbs.

Zero leapt behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life as he slammed it into gear.

The van leapt forward, tyres squealing as they tore out of the parking lot.

In the back, Tommy collapsed against the side wall, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. Roxy and Jimbo slumped down beside him.

Laila huddled in the passenger seat, the riot shield still clutched to her chest.

“We made it,” Tommy said. “We’re okay.”

“We did good back there,” Zero said. “Real good.”

Roxy let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, let’s not make a habit of it, okay? I’ve had my fill of close calls.”

Jimbo grunted, his head lolling against the window.

Laila said nothing, her gaze distant as she stared out at the darkening landscape.

They drove like that for a while, the others drifting in and out of restless sleep.

Tommy shifted his weight and kicked something at his feet. He picked up Micky’s half-empty whiskey bottle, turning it in his hand. He hesitated for a moment, a twinge of shame pricking at his conscience. But then, with a muttered curse, he unscrewed the cap and took a long, burning swallow.

The whiskey seared his throat, but he welcomed the pain, welcomed the numbing warmth that began to spread through his veins. He took another swig, then another, the world around him beginning to blur and soften at the edges.

“Looks like we’re in business.” Zero gestured to a building up ahead. “On the right.”

Jimbo sat up. “Is that a sporting goods store?”

“Could be worth checking out.

“Let’s do it.” Tommy’s words slurred slightly. “Let’s take a look.”

Zero guided the van into the store’s parking lot, killing the engine as he scanned the darkened storefront. The others piled out, weapons at the ready.

Tommy stumbled as he climbed from the van, the ground seeming to tilt and sway beneath his feet. He caught himself on the door frame, fingers gripping the metal as he fought to steady himself.

Roxy appeared at his side, her brow furrowed. “Tommy, are you okay? You seem a little off.”

Tommy waved her off. “‘I’m fine, Rox. Just a tired is all. Nothing to worry about.”

She leaned in closer, her nose wrinkling. “Have you been drinking?”

“I had a few sips earlier. Just to take the edge off, you know?”

“Hey! You two coming or what?”

Tommy’s head snapped towards Zero’s voice. He pushed off from the van, swaying slightly as he tried to find his balance. “Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on.”

Zero shot him a hard look. But he said nothing.

They approached the darkened building, Zero taking point with Tommy stumbling along in the rear. As they neared the front doors, Zero held up a hand.

After a tense moment, he gestured for them to follow as he slipped inside, rifle at the ready.

The store’s interior was pitch black, the only illumination coming from their flashlights bobbing in the darkness.

Tommy squinted, trying to bring the shadowy shelves and displays into focus.

They moved deeper into the store, picking their way through the gloom.

The store was a mess, the shelves overturned and the floor littered with scattered merchandise. It was clear that the place had been picked over, either by other survivors or by the undead.

“Over here,” Roxy said.

Tommy and the others drifted towards her.

“Sleeping bags, a portable stove, even some water purification tablets. This stuff could really come in handy out there.”

Tommy nodded. “Good work, Rox.”

As he turned to head back towards the front of the store, the room tilted and spun around him, his vision blurring and his balance deserting him. He stumbled, his foot catching on a fallen shelf and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Roxy rushed over and helped him to his feet. “Tommy, what the hell?”

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “I’m fine. Just tripped.”

She led him outside, away from the others. “Tommy, this has to stop. You can’t keep doing this, not out here. You’re putting us all at risk.”

He bristled at her words. “I don’t need a lecture, Rox. I know what I’m doing. The alcohol, it helps me cope. Helps me deal with what we’ve been through.”

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s a load of crap and you know it. You’re not coping, Tommy. You’re running away. And sooner or later, that’s going to get someone killed.”

Her words hit him like a slap. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, couldn’t bear to face the reality of his own weakness.

“I have it under control. I know my limits. I won’t let it affect the group, I promise.”

Roxy stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I hope you’re right, Tommy. Because if you’re not, if you can’t get a handle on this…”

She turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the gathering darkness, the weight of his failure pressing down on him.

He watched her go, his heart heavy and his mind reeling. He knew she was right, knew that he was putting them all at risk. But the thought of facing the world sober, of confronting the raw, bleeding wounds of his own trauma and loss was too much to bear.

The others emerged from the store, their arms laden with camping gear.

Tommy lingered by the dumpsters, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t shake the feeling of shame that clung to him.

Laila approached him. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Tommy shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet. “I don’t know. You?”

Laila mirrored his shrug, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I heard what Roxy said.”

Tommy stiffened, his jaw clenching. “She’s got it all wrong. I don’t have a problem, I just—”

“Tommy,” Laila cut him off, her voice firm. “We’ve been down this road before, remember? The drinking, the self-destruction. It’s not the answer. You need to keep your head clear, now more than ever.” She reached out and grasped his wrists, pushing up his sleeves to reveal the bold black Xs tattooed on the backs of his hands. “You made a promise to yourself. A pledge to stay clean, to stay focused. Don’t throw that away now, not when we need you most.”

Tommy stared at the tattoos, his vision blurring with tears. He remembered the day he had gotten them, the fierce pride and determination he had felt as the needle etched the symbols of his commitment into his skin.

But now, looking at them in the harsh light of his own failure, they seemed like a mockery, a cruel reminder of all the ways he had let himself and the others down.

“I’ve failed, Lai. I’ve failed myself, failed Micky, failed all of you. I’m not strong enough to do this.”

Laila shook her head, her grip on his wrists tightening. “That’s not true. You’ve been through this before, and you came out the other side. You can do it again, I know you can. But you have to want it, have to be willing to fight for it.”

“I’m so sick of fighting…I’m tired, Lai. So damn tired.”

She looked up at him. “Think of Niamh and Sean, waiting for you back in Philly.”

“Don’t.”

“Do you want them to see you like this? Or do you want to be the man they know you can be, the father and partner they deserve?”

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tight. Laila was right. He had to find a way to pull himself out of this downward spiral, to claw his way back to the surface. But it was hard, so hard. “I don’t know if I can do it again. I’m not strong enough.”

Laila’s expression softened, her hands moving to cup his face. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. And you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, every step of the way.”

Tommy leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting shut as he let her words wash over him. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that he could find his way back, back to the man he used to be.

The sound of the van’s engine sputtering to life pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Zero leaning from the driver’s window.

“Come on, Tommy boy. We need to get moving.”

Tommy sighed. “I’m coming.”

Laila grabbed his sleeve. “And you didn’t fail Micky.”

“I did.”

“No. You tried…but there was nothing we could have done for him.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Then why do I feel so bad?”

Laila shrugged. “Because we wanted to help. Do you blame me for what happened?”

“Of course not.”

“Then stop blaming yourself.”

“But—”

“I’m serious.” She gestured around her. “We’ve got enough crap to deal with without blaming ourselves for Micky. Do you think he’d blame us?”

“No. I guess not.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” She nodded towards the van. “But we really should get moving. Zero’s giving us the stink-eye.”