The sun hung low on the horizon as the van navigated the cluttered highway leading into Columbus.

Zero wrestled the steering wheel, his eyes darting between the abandoned vehicles littering the road.

Roxy leaned forward from the backseat, her brow furrowed. “We’re not going to make it back to my place before dark at this rate.”

Zero grunted, swerving to avoid a stalled pickup truck. “We need to find a place to set up camp for the night. I don’t want to be driving in the dark, not with the headlights drawing every dead-head and scavenger for miles.”

Roxy frowned. “I don’t know. We’re so close. If we push through, we could be sleeping in real beds tonight.”

Tommy shook his head. “Zero’s got a point, Rox. It’s not worth the risk. We’re all exhausted. We need to rest, regroup.”

Jimbo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m with T on this one. I don’t fancy getting stranded in the middle of the night with a busted axle or worse.”

Laila remained silent, her gaze distant as she stared out the window.

Roxy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, let’s put it to a vote. All in favour of finding a place to camp for the night?”

Tommy and Zero’s hands shot up, followed by Jimbo’s. After a moment, Laila raised her hand.

Roxy scowled, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Fine. But I still think we should keep moving.”

Jimbo reached over, placing a hand on her knee. “I know you want to get home, Rox. We all do. But we’ve got to play it smart, you know? Better to lose a few hours now than risk losing everything.”

Roxy held his gaze for a long moment before sighing, the fight draining out of her. “Yeah, I know. I just…I hate this. Feeling like we’re so close, but still so far away.”

Tommy nodded, his chest tight. “We’ll get there. But Jimbo’s right. We’ve got to be smart about it.”

Zero slowed the van as they approached an abandoned gas station, its windows dark, its pumps standing silent. “This could work. Decent visibility, solid walls. We could fortify the inside, set up watch rotations.”

Tommy peered through the windshield, his eyes scanning the darkened interior of the station. “Looks quiet. But we should do a sweep, just to be sure.”

Zero brought the van to a stop, killing the engine. “Agreed. Tommy, you’re with me. Roxy, Jimbo, watch the perimeter. Laila, stay with the van, keep the engine running in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

They piled out of the van, weapons at the ready.

Tommy fell into step beside Zero as they approached the gas station, his bat held loosely at his side.

The door was unlocked, swinging open with a soft creak as Zero shouldered it aside. They moved through the interior, flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.

The shelves were mostly bare, no doubt picked clean by scavengers. A few scattered wrappers and empty cans littered the floor, crunching beneath their feet as they swept the aisles.

The back room was empty save for a few scattered papers and a metal desk. Zero checked the corners, his rifle held at the ready, but there was no sign of life, living or undead.

“We’re clear.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s secure enough.” Zero lowered his rifle. “Let’s get the others.”

They emerged back into the main room, giving the all-clear signal to the others waiting outside.

Roxy and Jimbo helped Laila inside, while Tommy and Zero set about barricading the doors and windows with whatever furniture they could find.

Once the station was as secure as they could make it, they set about making camp.

Jimbo rummaged through their supplies, coming up with a few cans of beans and some crackers.

Roxy laid out the bedrolls in a tight circle, while Laila sorted through their medical supplies, taking inventory of what they had left.

They ate in silence, huddled around a small camping lantern.

The beans were cold and the crackers were like sawdust in Tommy’s mouth, but he forced himself to eat, knowing he needed the energy.

As the last of the light faded outside, Tommy stood, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll take first watch. The rest of you should try to get some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The others murmured their agreement, settling down onto their bedrolls.

Tommy grabbed his bat and made his way over to the window, peering out into the darkness.

Behind him, he could hear the soft rustling of fabric as the others shifted and settled.

Jimbo and Roxy were whispering to each other, their voices too low for Tommy to make out the words. But he could see the way they gravitated towards each other, the casual intimacy of their touches confirming his suspicions about their relationship.

He felt a pang of something like jealousy, or maybe just longing.

It had been so long since he’d had that kind of connection with someone, that easy comfort and affection.

He thought of Niamh, of the way she would curl into his side as they lay in bed together, her head resting on his chest. The way she would smile at him in the mornings, her hair tousled from sleep.

God, he missed her. Missed Sean. He missed them with an ache that went soul-deep, a constant throb in his gut.

He forced himself to look away from Roxy and Jimbo, to focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to get lost in memories, in might-have-beens.

The night wore on, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of sleep and the occasional distant moan of a dead-head.

Tommy paced the length of the gas station, his bat tapping a restless rhythm against his leg.

Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every creak of settling wood a potential warning of danger. His nerves stretched to breaking.

The shelves loomed over him in the darkness.

On a whim, he ducked behind the counter, his fingers skimming over the detritus. Old papers, empty cans, a handful of tarnished coins. And tucked into the far corner, a glint of glass caught his eye.

He reached for it, his hand closing around the neck of a bottle.

He pulled it out, squinting at the label in the dim light. Vodka, the cheap stuff that burned going down and left a sour taste in your mouth.

Tommy’s heart kicked into a higher gear, his mouth suddenly dry.

It had been so long since he’d had a drink, since he’d felt that familiar warmth spreading through his veins, the blessed numbness that came with it.

He should put it back.

But God, he was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being strong, tired of the constant, gnawing fear.

Just one drink, he told himself. Just one, to take the edge off, to quiet the screaming in his head.

He could control it, keep it from spiralling out of hand.

Everyone else was asleep.

No one else needed to know.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he unscrewed the cap, the sharp scent of alcohol wafting up to fill his nostrils.

He raised the bottle to his lips, hesitating for a fraction of a second.

Then he tipped it back, the vodka searing his throat as it went down.

He welcomed the burn, the way it chased away the chill that seemed to have settled into his bones.

One drink became two, then three.

The world started to soften at the edges, the constant hum of anxiety in his chest easing, replaced by a warm, floating sensation.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He wandered the aisles of the store, his steps unsteady, his bat dragging along the floor.

He hummed tunelessly under his breath, snippets of Clash songs, half-remembered.

He was so lost in his own head, in the comforting haze of the alcohol, that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

“Tommy?” Jimbo’s voice was rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

Tommy whirled, the room spinning around him. He blinked, trying to focus on Jimbo’s face, but it kept slipping away from him. “Jimbo, hey.” His words came out slurred. “I was just…I needed a little something…”

Jimbo’s eyes fell to the bottle dangling from Tommy’s hand, his brow furrowing. “Oh, dude. Where did you even find that?”

Tommy shrugged. “Under the counter. Hidden treasure, right?”

Jimbo shook his head, stepping forward and plucking the bottle from Tommy’s fingers. “This isn’t treasure, dude. This is poison, and you damn well know it.”

Tommy’s face fell. “Don’t…don’t tell me what I know. You don’t get to judge me, Jimbo. You haven’t been through what I’ve been through.”

“No, I haven’t. But I know pain, Tommy. I know what it’s like to want to drown it out. But trust me, that road doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

Tommy slumped back against the shelves. “I’m just so tired. Tired of being scared all the time, tired of not knowing what’s coming next.”

Jimbo set the bottle aside, moving to stand beside Tommy. He rested a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of Tommy’s shirt. “I get it, T. But this? This isn’t the answer. You’re stronger than this. You’re better than this.”

Tommy shook his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Am I? Because from where I’m standing, I’m a pretty piss-poor excuse for a leader. For a father. I mean, what kind of man abandons his family in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse?”

“You didn’t abandon them.”

“I did. I left them to play a stupid, stupid tour. I should have been with them. I should have been there, and I wasn’t? What kind of man does that make me, huh? Abandoning his family for some stupid dream?”

“The kind that’s trying his best to get back to them. The kind that’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. That’s who you are, Tommy. That’s the man I know.”

Tommy sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just…I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Jimbo squeezed his shoulder. “You are. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And you’re not alone in this. You’ve got us. We’re all in this together, dude.”

Tommy let out a shaky breath, some of the tightness in his chest easing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let myself slip like that. It won’t happen again.”

Jimbo gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, dude. We all have our moments. The important thing is that you don’t let them define you, that you keep pushing forward.” He glanced around the store. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? I can take over watch for a bit, let you sleep off the booze.”

Tommy hesitated, the thought of closing his eyes, of letting his guard down, sending a flicker of unease through him. But his limbs felt heavy, his head fuzzy. “Yeah, okay.” He pushed himself off the shelves, swaying slightly as the room tilted around him. “Thanks, Jimbo. For…for everything.”

Jimbo clapped him on the back, steering him towards the bedrolls. “Anytime, dude.” He helped Tommy settle down onto his bedroll, pressing a bottle of water and a handful of crackers into his hands. “Here, try to get some of this down you. It’ll help with the hangover.”

Tommy took a sip of the water, the coolness soothing his raw throat. He nibbled at a cracker, his stomach churning.

Jimbo stood, grabbed his golf club, and headed for the window. “Get some rest, T. Things will look better in the morning, you’ll see.”

Tommy let his eyes drift shut, the exhaustion of the day, the alcohol in his system, dragging him down into a dreamless sleep.

The first pale fingers of dawn crept through the cracks in the barricaded windows, casting a watery light over the interior of the gas station.

Tommy groaned, his head pounding in time with his pulse as he struggled to sit up.

His mouth tasted like a rat had crawled inside and died, his tongue thick and furry against his teeth.

He squinted against the light, the events of the previous night coming back to him in hazy flashes.

The vodka. Jimbo’s intervention. The crushing weight of his own guilt and fear.

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly.

The others were already up and moving, packing up their meagre supplies and checking their weapons.

Laila glanced over at him, her brow furrowing. “You okay, Tommy? You look like hell.”

He winced, rubbing at his temples. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

She frowned, stepping closer. Her nostrils flared, her eyes widening. “Is that…is that alcohol I smell?”

“Lai, it’s not what you think…”

“Not what I think?” Her voice rose, sharp and accusing. “What, you expect me to believe you just happened to find a bottle of mouthwash lying around?”

Zero looked up from where he was checking the scope on his rifle, his eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”

Laila gestured to Tommy. “Our fearless leader here decided to down a few last night while the rest of us were sleeping, while he was supposed to be on watch. Real responsible, Tommy. Real smart.”

Tommy flinched, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, okay? It won’t happen again.”

Zero’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening on the stock of his rifle. “Damn right it won’t. We can’t afford to have you compromised, Tommy boy. Not now, not ever.”

Jimbo stepped forward, his hands raised. “Hey, let’s all just take a breath, okay? Tommy screwed up, he knows that. But we’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.”

Roxy nodded, her gaze darting to the windows. “Jimbo’s right. We need to focus on getting to Columbus, on getting off this damn road. I just want to get home.”

Laila opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out, a low moan drifted through the air.

They froze, their heads whipping towards the sound.

“Damn it.” Zero raised his rifle, his eyes scanning the parking lot outside. “We’ve got company.”

Tommy grabbed his bat and joined Zero at the window, peering out into the grey dawn light.

The gas station was surrounded, a shambling horde of zombies closing in from all sides.

“How the hell did they sneak up on us like that?” Roxy said, her machete gripped tight.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Tommy’s mind raced, calculating distances, angles of approach. “We need to get to the van, and fast.”

Zero nodded. “Tommy’s right. We punch through, make a run for it. Laila, Jimbo, you’re with me. We’ll clear a path. Rox.” He tossed her the keys. “You get the van started and be ready to gun it as soon as we’re in.”

Everyone moved to the door, their weapons at the ready.

“On three,” Zero said, his hand on the door handle. “One, two, three!”

He wrenched the door open and they surged out into the morning light, a battle cry tearing from their throats.

The zombies turned as one.

Tommy charged forward, his bat whooshing through the air as he brought it down on the nearest zombie’s head. The skull caved in, gore splattering his face and chest.

He spun, already seeking his next target, his muscles burning with the strain.

The zombies pressed in from all sides, all grasping hands and snapping teeth.

Beside him, Zero wielded his rifle like a club, the stock smashing through rotten flesh.

Laila was a whirlwind of flashing metal, her tyre iron caving in skulls with sickening crunches.

Jimbo’s golf club rose and fell, each blow accompanied by a grunt of effort. He shattered kneecaps and spines, sending the zombies sprawling to the blood-slicked asphalt.

Zombies came from all sides, shambling out from behind cars and lurching up from behind the gas station.

A zombie lunged at Tommy, its teeth bared in a snarl.

He tried to dodge, but his foot slipped in a puddle of gore and he went down hard, his bat flying from his hand.

The zombie was on him, its fingers clawing at his face, its jaws snapping inches from his throat.

Tommy screamed, thrashing wildly as he tried to throw the creature off.

But it was strong, far stronger than its wasted frame would suggest.

It bore down on him, its putrid breath hot on his face, its eyes alight with a terrible hunger.

His vision began to tunnel, his lungs burning as he struggled for air.

This was it. This was how he was going to die, torn apart by a monster wearing a human face.

The weight lifted from his chest.

He blinked, gasping for breath as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

Jimbo stood over him, his golf club dripping with gore, his face splattered with blood.

The zombie lay twitching at his feet, its head caved in.

“Come on, dude!” Jimbo reached down to haul him to his feet. “No time for naps, we’ve got to move!”

Tommy staggered upright, his ankle screaming in protest. He must have twisted it in the fall, but there was no time to worry about that now.

He scooped up his bat, forcing himself to put weight on his injured foot. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. “We need to get to the van! Cut a path, now!”

He swung his bat in a wide arc, the wood crunching through the skull of a zombie. Thick, dark blood sprayed across his fac.

The others fought shoulder to shoulder, each protecting the other’s back as they inched towards the van.

But the horde was relentless, the press of bodies threatening to overwhelm them at any moment.

Tommy’s arms burned with fatigue, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His ankle throbbed with each step, the pain mounting until it was almost blinding.

But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t falter.

The van was so close, just a few more yards.

If they could just break through…

A zombie lunged at him from the side, its fingers snagging in his shirt.

He spun, bringing his bat around in a vicious backhand.

The blow caught the creature in the temple, snapping its head to the side with a crack.

But the momentum of the swing threw him off balance, his injured ankle giving way beneath him. He crashed to the ground, his vision swimming as the pain threatened to drag him under.

Dimly, he was aware of the others closing ranks around him, their weapons flashing in the sun as they fought to keep the zombies at bay.

Laila shouted his name, her voice high and desperate.

He tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate.

The world was spinning, the edges of his vision darkening.

And then Jimbo was there, his face looming over him. “Tommy, come on. You’ve got to get up. We’re almost there, just a little further!” He reached down, his hand closing around Tommy’s wrist.

With a grunt, he dragged Tommy to his feet, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

Together, they staggered forward, Jimbo half-carrying, half-dragging Tommy towards the van.

Roxy reached it first, wrenching the driver’s side door open and scrambling inside.

The engine roared to life, the sound galvanizing the zombies to new heights of frenzy.

“Come on!” She leaned out the window. “Hurry the hell up!”

Tommy put on a burst of speed, his lungs burning.. He could hear the others behind him, their laboured breathing, the wet smack of their weapons against rotting flesh.

They reached the van, piling in through the side door.

Roxy stomped on the gas, tyres squealing as they fought for purchase on the blood-slick lot.

Zombies swarmed the van, their hands clawing at the windows, their moans rising.

The van lurched forward, ploughing through the horde.

Broken bodies crunched beneath the wheels, gore splattering the windshield.

Tommy twisted in his seat, watching as the gas station receded behind them, the zombies still coming, still reaching for them with their decaying hands.

He looked around at the others, taking in their shell-shocked expressions, the way they trembled with exhaustion and spent adrenaline.

Roxy’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her jaw clenched tight as she navigated the carnage.

In the back, Laila sat hunched over her tyre iron, her face hidden behind a curtain of sweat-soaked hair.

Zero leaned against the door, his rifle cradled in his arms, his eyes distant.

Jimbo grinned as he clapped Tommy on the shoulder. “That was a close one, eh?” His voice shook with barely suppressed laughter. “Thought we were goners for sure.”

Tommy shook his head. “Yeah, well…let’s not make a habit of it, okay? I don’t think my heart can take much more of this.”

Jimbo’s grin widened. “Aww, where’s the fun in that? Nothing like a little brush with death to make you feel alive, right?”

Tommy groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat. His ankle throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the pain a dull, insistent ache.

But it was a good pain, in a way. A reminder that he was still here, still breathing.

Still fighting.

The road stretched out before them, the sun climbing higher in the sky with every passing mile.

Columbus was close now, so close he could almost taste it.

And beyond that, Philly. Niamh. Sean.

He would make it back to them. He would be the man they needed him to be, the partner and father they deserved.