The van rolled through the outskirts of Columbus.

Abandoned vehicles sat rusting on the kerbs, their windows shattered, their doors hanging open.

Storefronts gaped dark and empty, their shelves stripped bare by looters and survivors.

Tommy sat in the back of the van, his injured ankle propped up on the seat beside him. Every bump and jostle sent fresh waves of pain shooting up his leg, but he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it.

Roxy drove, her eyes scanning the road ahead.

Zero rode shotgun, his rifle in his lap, his jaw clenched tight.

In the back, Jimbo and Laila sat in tense silence, their weapons close at hand.

“Roadblock ahead,” Zero said. “Looks like someone tried to barricade the street.”

Roxy slowed the van, edging forward.

The roadblock stood before them, a haphazard pile of cars and furniture and scavenged junk. It stretched from one side of the street to the other, leaving only a narrow gap in the centre.

Tommy leaned forward to peer out the windshield. “Can we get through?”

Zero shook his head. “Not without moving some of that crap out of the way.” He turned to the others, his eyes hard. “Tommy, Jimbo, Laila—you’re with me. Roxy, stay with the van. Keep the engine running and be ready to move as soon as we’re through.”

They piled out of the van, weapons at the ready. Tommy winced as he put weight on his injured ankle, but he forced himself to move, to follow Zero as he picked his way through the debris.

They worked quickly, shoving aside chairs and tables, rolling tyres and hunks of twisted metal out of the way. The sound of their efforts seemed to echo in the stillness, each scrape and clatter making Tommy start.

His hands trembled for a drink.

The low, guttural moan of the undead filtered through the streets.

Jimbo pointed his golf club towards the noise. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Zero’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Keep working. Laila, watch our backs. Jimbo, Tommy—double time it.”

Jimbo gave a mock salute. “Sir. Yes, Sir!”

They redoubled their efforts, sweat pouring down their faces as they heaved and hauled.

The moans grew louder, closer, shuffling feet nearing with every passing second.

“Almost there.” Tommy grunted, shoving aside a final piece of debris. “Just a little more…”

Zombies shambled out from a side street in a wave of rotting flesh and snapping teeth.

Tommy swung his bat, the wood connecting with the nearest zombie’s throat, its head snapping back.

Beside him, Jimbo and Laila fought with a desperate ferocity.

Zero stood at the barricade, his rifle butt smashing down on skulls. “Fall back! Back to the van, now!”

Tommy retreated, fighting every step of the way, each step sending a jolt of pain through his ankle.

The zombies pressed in from all sides, their hands clawing at clothes and hair, their jaws snapping inches from exposed skin.

But then they were through, diving into the back of the van as Roxy gunned the engine.

The tyres screamed as they fought for purchase, the van lurching forward with a bone-jarring jolt.

The van smashed through the remaining barricade, broken bodies crunching beneath the wheels. But she didn’t slow down, didn’t hesitate.

Beside her, Zero pored over a map, his brow furrowed. “Take a left up ahead,” he said, tracing a finger along the crinkled paper. “There’s a side street that should get us around.”

Roxy shook her head, her eyes never leaving the road. “No way. That street’s a dead end. We’ll get trapped for sure.”

Zero looked up, his jaw clenched. “The map says—”

“I don’t care what the map says,” Roxy snapped, her voice tight. “This is my city, Zero. I grew up here. I know these streets. You don’t.”

Tommy leaned forward from the backseat. “Maybe we should listen to Zero, Rox. He’s gotten us this far.”

Roxy shot him a glare. “And I’m telling you, that street is a deathtrap. We need to go around, take the main road.”

Zero shook his head. “The main roads probably crawling with dead-heads. We’ll be overrun in minutes.”

“So we’ll deal with them. We’ve handled worse before.”

Tommy watched the exchange with growing unease.

Laila let out a sharp gasp. “Look out!”

Roxy slammed on the brakes, the van skidding to a halt mere inches from an overturned delivery truck. The street ahead was completely blocked, the asphalt choked with abandoned vehicles and debris.

“Damn it.” Roxy threw the van into reverse. “Hold on.” She executed a sharp U-turn.

Tommy braced himself against the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

They raced back the way they had come, but their path was blocked by a shambling horde of zombies.

Roxy swerved to avoid them, the van careening wildly as she fought to maintain control.

“I told you we should have taken the side street,” Zero said.

Roxy ignored him, her focus on the road ahead.

She wove between abandoned cars, the van’s bumper scraping against twisted metal and shattered glass.

A lone zombie lurched out from behind a burnt-out pickup truck.

Roxy tried to swerve, but the van clipped the creature, sending it flying into the windshield with a sickening crunch.

She screamed and stamped on the brakes, the van fishtailing wildly as it skidded to a halt.

But the zombie still clung on.

For a moment, no one moved, no one breathed.

Tommy stared at the zombie’s face, its milky eyes boring into his own through the cracked glass.

And then Zero was moving, his rifle already in his hands. “Out. Everyone out, now.”

They scrambled from the van, Tommy gritting his teeth against the pain in his ankle.

He scanned the street, his bat held at the ready, but the horde was already closing in, their rasping moans filling the air.

“We need to move,” Zero said. “Lead the dead-heads away. Stick close, watch each other’s backs.”

He took point, his rifle smashing down on the zombie’s neck, before tossing the creature from the van.

Tommy fell in behind him, Jimbo and Laila bringing up the rear.

Roxy stood frozen, staring at the crumpled body of the zombie.

Jimbo grabbed her arm, giving her a rough shake.

“Rox, come on, dude. We have to go.”

She blinked, seeming to come back to herself. With a shaky nod, she fell into step beside him, her machete gripped tight in trembling hands.

Zero led the way, swinging his rifle like a club, its heavy butt smashing into the heads and necks of the advancing zombies.

Tommy’s bat connected with the side of a zombie’s head, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arms.

He grunted, swinging again and again, each strike a battle against both the undead and the searing ache in his ankle.

Jimbo’s golf club sliced through the air with precision. He aimed for the knees and heads, toppling zombies with each calculated blow.

Laila’s tyre iron swung in wide arcs, the solid metal crunching through bone and sinew. She moved with a fierce determination, her eyes scanning constantly for any zombies that slipped past Zero.

Roxy stayed close to Jimbo, her machete slicing through the air, its blade arcing down, severing a zombie’s arm before slashing across its throat.

Zero kept them moving. “Keep pushing forward! We need to lead them away from the van.”

They wound through the streets, the horde shambling after them, the air thick with the stench of decay.

Tommy’s breath came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to keep up, to stay in the fight.

He rounded a corner, the narrow alleyway forcing the zombies into a bottleneck.

“Here!” Zero shouted. “Hold them here!”

The group formed a line as the zombies pressed forward, their bodies piling up in the confined space.

The mass of zombies thinned, their numbers reduced by the onslaught.

Zero stepped back. “We’ve done enough. Get back to the van.”

The group broke away, retreating down the alley and back towards the main street.

The van came into view, still running, its engine a reassuring hum in the chaos.

Roxy threw open the door, scrambling inside. “Move it!”

Zero was next, followed by Jimbo and Laila. Tommy brought up the rear, his injured ankle screaming in protest with each step.

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With a final burst of speed, he reached the van, diving inside just as Roxy slammed her foot on the gas.

The horde receded behind them, the last of the zombies left far behind as they sped away.

Tommy slumped back in his seat, his breath coming in heavy gasps.

Roxy’s hands trembled on the wheel, but she kept her eyes on the road, her jaw set.

Zero sat beside her, his rifle across his lap, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Good work, everyone.”

Jimbo let out a whoop, his golf club resting across his knees. “That was close, dude.”

Laila gave a tired nod, her eyes meeting Tommy’s.

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the throbbing pain in his ankle, the gnawing hunger in his belly.

They drove on in silence, the ruined streets of Columbus passing by in a blur of shattered glass and crumbling brick.

And with every mile, every turn, Tommy felt the weight of their situation pressing down on him.

He kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, scanning the streets for any sign of danger. They passed burnt-out storefronts and looted homes, the evidence of violence and desperation written in every shattered window and blood-stained wall.

Fresh barricades blocked off side streets and alleyways. Bullet casings glinted on the sidewalk.

The city seemed to stretch on forever, the streets twisting and turning in an endless maze of destruction.

With every block, every turn, Tommy felt his hope dwindling, his faith in their ability to make it out alive growing thin.

A grim smile spread across Roxy’s features. “Not too far now.”

She guided the van through the obstacles.

As they approached an intersection, Roxy slowed the van.

A barricade loomed ahead, a wall of cars and debris, manned by a group of survivors.

They were armed, their weapons trained on the approaching vehicle.

“Damn it.” Roxy glanced over her shoulder. “I’m going to turn us around.”

But before she could act, more survivors emerged from the side streets, surrounding the van.

They were trapped, outnumbered, and outgunned.

Roxy brought the van to a stop, her breath hitching in her throat.

For a long moment, no one moved, no one spoke.

One of the survivors, a tall man with a shaved head and a patchwork of scars across his face, stepped forward. He raised a hand, a pistol dangling loosely from his fingers. “That’s far enough,” he called out. “This is our territory now. Turn around and go back the way you came.”

Tommy leaned out the window, his hands raised. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just trying to get through, to get to our friend’s place. We’ve got some supplies we could trade, if you’re willing.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve got plenty of our own. What we need is for you to get the hell off our turf.”

“Please,” Roxy said. “I just want to get home. Surely you can understand that.”

For a moment, something flickered in the man’s eyes, a hint of empathy, of understanding. But then it was gone, his face hardening. “I said, turn around. We won’t ask again.”

Suddenly, Zero was moving, his rifle snapping up to his shoulder. He sighted down the barrel, his finger hovering over the trigger.

“Zero!” Tommy called. “Don’t!”

The man’s eyes widened, his own gun coming up to point at Zero’s head. “Put it down. Put it down now, or I swear to God I’ll blow your damn head off.”

Zero didn’t move, didn’t blink.

The others in the van shifted, their hands tightening on their weapons.

Jimbo leaned from the window. “Come on, dude. This isn’t the way. We can still talk this out.”

But Zero wasn’t listening. His finger tightened on the trigger, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

And then, in a flash of movement, the man was diving to the side, his gun barking as he rolled.

The bullet whizzed past Zero’s ear, shattering a nearby windshield in a spray of glass.

Zero fired back, his own shot going wide.

The survivors scattered, taking cover behind cars and dumpsters.

“Go!” Zero leapt back inside. “Go, now!”

Roxy slammed on the gas.

Bullets pinged off the metal, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

Tommy and the others flattened themselves against the floor as Zero continued to fire out the window.

They careened through the streets, the van weaving and dodging as Roxy tried to evade their pursuers taking potshots at the fleeing vehicle.

Zero cursed, his eyes scanning the streets. “There!” He pointed to a narrow alleyway. “Try to lose them down there!”

Roxy wrenched the wheel, the van skidding as it turned. They bounced over the kerb, trash cans and debris flying as they ploughed through the narrow gap.

The alleyway was tight, barely wide enough for the van.

Roxy gritted her teeth, her knuckles white on the wheel as she manoeuvred through the narrow passage.

Gunfire echoed behind them.

“Keep your heads down!” Zero shouted, his rifle still in hand. He squeezed off a few more shots, but the click of an empty chamber rang out. “Damn it!”

“We need to keep moving,” Tommy said. “Roxy, can you get us out of here?”

“I’m trying!”

The alley opened up into a deserted street. Roxy didn’t slow down, veering left and then right.

The van rattled and groaned, but it held together, carrying them further away from the danger.

Tommy turned to Jimbo and Laila. “Is everyone alright?”

“We’re fine,” Laila said, her voice barely a whisper. “Just keep going.”

Roxy’s eyes flicked to the side mirror. “I think we lost them. But we can’t stop now. We need to get to my place. It’s not far.”

Zero nodded. “Alright, but keep your eyes open. They might not give up so easily.”

They drove in silence for a few more blocks.

Tommy tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle, focusing instead on their surroundings.

Roxy gestured along the street. “My place. Just up ahead.”

The building came into view, a derelict apartment complex.

Roxy’s hands shook as she guided the van forward, her eyes welling up with tears. “This is it. Home.”

Still a block away, she pulled the van to a stop, wiping her eyes.

“Rox, let me take over,” Zero said.

She nodded and slid over to the passenger seat. Zero took the wheel, navigating the van the last few yards to the front of the building.

Tommy looked around as they came to a stop. The building was a mess, the windows boarded up, graffiti covering the walls.

Jimbo whistled. “Looks like the place has been wrecked.”

Roxy took a deep breath. “This is it. It’s our squat.”

Tommy climbed out of the van, baseball bat still in hand, and surveyed the area. The street was empty, but the sense of unease lingered. They were safe for the moment.

Zero turned to Roxy. “It’s better than nothing.”

Roxy nodded, a small smile breaking through her tears. “Yeah. It’s home.”

Tommy limped towards the entrance, his bat resting on his shoulder. “Let’s get inside. We can figure out what to do next from here.”

Tommy and the others followed Roxy through the apartment complex. Her boots crunched on shards of glass and splintered wood, each step echoing through the empty halls, its walls covered in faded graffiti.

The building was silent.

Roxy led them past what had once been a communal area, now littered with broken furniture and scattered belongings.

She gestured to a door on their right. “That was Dee’s room. We used to hang out there, make plans for making our mark on the scene.”

Tommy peered inside the room, the mattress upturned and the walls adorned with old band posters.

They moved on, Roxy pointing to a metal door leading to the basement. “We played our first gig down there. It’s where we formed the Minks.”

She called out a few names, her voice echoing down the corridors, but there was no response.

The place was clearly abandoned, the signs of recent struggle evident in the overturned furniture and the occasional bloodstain on the walls.

They climbed the stairs to the third floor, the wooden steps groaning and creaking beneath their weight.

Every sound seemed amplified in the silence.

As they reached the third floor, the hallway stretched out before them in semi-darkness.

The signs of violence were more pronounced here—doors ajar, frames splintered, personal belongings scattered as if abandoned in haste.

Roxy’s pace slowed, her hand trailing along the wall as she moved forward.

She came to a stop outside her apartment, the door hanging off its hinges, the frame broken.

Roxy hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for the door.

Zero and Jimbo flanked her.

“We’ve got your back, Rox,” Zero said.

Roxy nodded, taking a deep breath. “Thanks. This was home…it still is, I guess.”

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a shallow sob.

The apartment lay in ruin, its furniture overturned and smashed, the cushions torn and scattered. The walls were pockmarked with bullet holes, the floor sticky with dried blood.

Roxy moved through the space like a ghost, her fingers trailing over the remnants of her past life. She paused at a shattered picture frame, the photo inside torn and faded. It was a snapshot of her and the Minks. “They’re gone.” She flung the frame across the room. “They’re all gone. Everything. Everyone.”

Tommy stepped forward, but then stopped himself when Jimbo placed an arm around her.

“Rox, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine…”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “I knew it was a long shot. But I just…I needed to see it for myself, you know? I needed to know for sure.”

“What you going to do now?”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it, you know? I was so focused on getting here, on finding something…anything.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “But there’s nothing here for me now. My band, my friends...they’re all gone. And this place…” She gestured at the ruined apartment. “It’s not home anymore. It’s just a shell.”

Zero moved to her other side, his face soft. “You’re not alone. You’ve got us.”

She leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

Tommy watched, a flicker of confusion washing through him. He had thought that Roxy and Jimbo were…but now this?

He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Roxy had someone to lean on, someone to help her through this.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of Roxy’s sobbing.

And then, slowly, she pulled away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and marched across the room. She yanked open a closet and pulled out a guitar case.

She flipped the lid and ran a finger across a battered acoustic guitar.

“Nice,” Tommy said. “Looks old.”

Roxy nodded and closed the lid. “Learned to play on this thing.” She gave a half smile. “Classically trained.”

“Wait. You can play classical?”

“Grade Eight. But then I discovered power chords and never looked back.”

Tommy chuckled. “Damn. I skipped that first step.”

Roxy’s fingers tightened on the guitar case. “I want to keep going with you guys. I want to see this through, to find some kind of purpose in all this madness.” She looked up at Tommy, her eyes searching his face. “Is that okay with you? I don’t want to be a burden, or—”

“Of course it’s okay,” he said cutting her off. “You’re one of us now, Rox. We’re family.”

Laila nodded. “He’s right. We’re in this together, for better or for worse.”

Zero clapped his hands together. “Alright then. Let’s grab whatever supplies we can and get the hell out of here. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

They made their way back down the stairs, picking their way through the debris.

As they emerged into the street, Tommy felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of loss wash over him.

Was this what awaited him in Philly?

Is this what he would find when he finally made it back to Niamh and Sean?

A ruined home, a shattered life, nothing but ghosts and memories.

He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.

He couldn’t think like that, couldn’t let himself give in to despair.

He had to believe that they were still out there, that they were waiting for him.

But as he looked around at the others, at the haunted expressions on their faces, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was just fooling himself. If he was chasing a dream that had long since turned to ashes.

“So what now?” Jimbo asked. “Where do we go from here?”

Zero sighed, running a hand over his hair. “We’re less than four hours from Pittsburgh. But after this, I’m not holding out hope there’s much left to go back to.”

“Might be the same for Philly,” Laila said.

“No,” Tommy snapped.

Laila shook her head. “We’ve driven more than halfway across the country—this thing is everywhere. I don’t think anywhere’s safe.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I think we do, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t think like that.”

“I’m just being realistic. Philly might not be there for us when we get back. Our families might not be there.”

“Well, we’ll deal with that if we have to. I’m focused on getting back home. Everything else can go te hell.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to face the possibility that Niamh and Sean might be…”

“Don’t. They’re alive. They have to be.”

Laila sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I hope you’re right. I really do. But we have to be realistic. We have to accept that the world we knew is gone, that the people we loved might be gone too.”

“I can’t accept that. I won’t. They’re out there, Lai. They’re waiting for me. And I’m going to find them, no matter what it takes.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. And then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay, Tommy. Okay. We’ll keep going. But you have to promise me something.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Anything.”

“You have to promise me that you’ll be careful. That you won’t let this search consume you, that you won’t lose yourself in it. Because if you do, if you let it take over...then you’ll be no good to anyone, least of all Niamh and Sean.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I’ll try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise. I’ll be careful.”

“That goes for the drink too.”

Tommy’s nostrils flared, but he kept himself in check. “I know. I’m getting through it.”

She squeezed his hand. “Good.”

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their shared grief and uncertainty pressing down on them.

Zero cleared his throat. “We should get moving. We’ve got a long way to go, and we don’t want to be caught out in the open after dark.”

Roxy tucked the guitar case into the back of the van, along with a few other small mementos—a battered old leather jacket, a handful of faded photographs.

Tommy watched as Zero helped Roxy into the passenger seat, his hand lingering on the small of her back just a moment too long.

Tommy fell into step beside Laila as they headed back towards the van. “Is Roxy…are she and Zero…?”

Laila shrugged, her eyes fixed on the ground. “I don’t know. I thought maybe she and Jimbo had a thing going, but…” She shook her head. “Honestly, it’s not really any of our business.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “It might be, if it causes problems within the group. We can’t afford any distractions.”

Laila sighed. “I know. But what can we do? We can’t control how people feel, Tommy. All we can do is try to keep it from tearing us apart.”

He nodded. She was right, of course. They had enough to worry about without adding interpersonal drama to the mix.

But as he climbed into the back of the van, as he watched Roxy and Zero exchange a loaded glance, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

The van rumbled to life, the engine coughing and sputtering as Zero guided them back out onto the ruined streets.

Tommy leaned his head against the window, watching the shattered city roll by in a blur of broken glass and crumbling concrete.

He closed his eyes, letting the rumble of the engine and the soft murmur of conversation wash over him.

He thought of Niamh and Sean, of the promise he had made to find them.

He clung to it still, clung to the hope that somewhere out there, they were still alive and waiting for him.