The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the highway as Tommy guided the van towards Philadelphia. They were so close now.

Behind him, the others were quiet. Laila stared out the window, her face pensive. Jimbo and Roxy huddled together, their heads bent close in conversation. Zero sat in the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the road ahead.

They had been making good progress, despite the occasional detour around blocked roads or abandoned towns. But as they approached the outskirts of West Chester, the highway began to clog with abandoned vehicles once more.

Tommy slowed the van, weaving between the cars. Lone zombies shambled along the shoulder, their faces slack and empty. He swerved to avoid them.

A horde of zombies burst from the treeline. They swarmed towards the van, their rasping moans filling the air.

“Hold on!” Tommy stomped on the gas, the van lurching forward. But the zombies closed in around the vehicle, their hands scrabbling at the windows, their bodies thudding against the sides.

Tommy gritted his teeth, trying to ram through the horde. But the van shuddered and groaned under the impact, metal shrieking as it crashed into an overturned semi.

For a moment, Tommy sat dazed, his ears ringing, his vision blurred.

The zombies’ moans cut through the haze, jolting him back to reality.

“Everyone out!” He grabbed his bat. “We have to run!”

They piled out of the van, their weapons already in hand. The zombies pressed in from all sides, their faces contorted with mindless hunger.

Tommy swung his bat in a wide arc, feeling it connect with solid flesh. Beside him, Laila lashed out with her tyre iron, caving in skulls with brutal efficiency. Jimbo and Roxy fought back to back, their weapons flashing in the fading light.

“We need to draw them away!” Zero slammed his rifled butt down on a zombie’s skull. “Get them to follow us, give us a chance to get back to the van!”

Tommy nodded, his mind racing. He scanned the highway, looking for a way out, a path to safety. “This way!” He gestured with his bat. “Let’s head to the overpass!”.”

They broke away from the van, abandoning their supplies, their precious cache of guns and ammunition. All except Zero, who clutched his rifle tight to his chest.

Tommy ran, his feet pounding on the asphalt, the others following behind.

Every step sent a jolt of pain through his ankle. But Tommy gritted his teeth, pushed it down.

The zombies stumbled after them.

The overpass loomed ahead, a narrow strip of concrete and metal that stretched out over the highway.

Tommy put on a burst of speed, his lungs burning, his muscles screaming.

He reached the top of the embankment and whirled around, his bat held high.

“This is our best spot to fight,” Zero said. “Use the higher ground to our advantage.”

Zombies scrambled up the bank towards them.

Tommy swung his bat down, feeling it connect with something solid.

Beside him, Roxy let out a wordless battle cry, her machete slicing through the air, each swing leaving a trail of severed limbs and shattered skulls in its wake.

Zero dropped to one knee, his rifle snapping up to his shoulder. He sighted down the barrel, his eyes narrowing, his breath coming slow and steady.

He squeezed the trigger, the sharp crack of the shot echoing across the overpass.

A zombie’s head exploded in a spray of gore, the body crumpling to the ground.

Zero lined up his next shot, his movements calm and methodical.

Laila and Jimbo fought as if in a trance, their weapons rising and falling in a relentless rhythm, tearing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency.

Tommy lost himself in the fight, his world narrowing to the swing of his bat, the burn of his muscles.

He struck out again and again, each impact jarring up his arms, each zombie that fell only to be replaced by another.

The air was thick with the stench of decay, the coppery tang of blood, the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Sweat poured down Tommy’s face, stinging his eyes, but he blinked it away, refusing to let his vision blur, refusing to let his guard down for even a second.

“We need to move!” Tommy shouted, his voice hoarse and ragged. “Back to the highway, now!”

The others didn’t hesitate, didn’t question. They fell back as one, their weapons still flashing, still cutting through the ranks of the undead.

Tommy brought up the rear, his bat smashing into the faces of any zombies that got too close, buying the others precious seconds to retreat.

They reached the edge of the overpass, the highway stretching out below them.

Tommy risked a glance over his shoulder, saw the horde surging forward, their moans rising.

Ankle throbbing, Tommy forced himself to keep pace with the others, his bat clutched tight in his hand, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

Tommy glanced back as zombies poured off the overpass, their bodies hitting the ground hard.

Some staggered to their feet, their milky eyes fixing on the fleeing survivors, their jaws snapping with mindless hunger.

Tommy half-limped, half-ran until the moans faded into the distance, until the only sound was the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

He stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving, his vision swimming. He looked around at the others. “Is everyone okay?”

Roxy nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Zero grunted his agreement, his rifle still held at the ready.

Laila and Jimbo leaned against each other, their chests heaving, their faces drawn. But they were alive, and that was all that mattered.

Tommy took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand straight, to push down the pain and the fear and the bone-deep weariness. “Let’s get this van back on the road before the dead-heads regroup.”

Tommy moved quickly, retracing his steps back towards the wrecked van, his eyes and ears straining for any sign of the horde’s return.

As he approached the overturned semi, the crumpled front of the van came into view, wedged against the larger vehicle’s undercarriage.

Smoke wafted from the crushed hood, and the windshield was a spiderweb of cracks.

Zero moved ahead, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he circled the wreck, eyes roving over the damage. He crouched down, peering underneath, his hands probing at the twisted metal.

Tommy watched on, hardly daring to breathe, clinging to a desperate hope that somehow the van could be salvaged.

Zero straightened up and shook his head. “It’s no good. Frame’s bent to hell, engine’s shot. We’re not going anywhere in this.”

Roxy kicked at a tyre, cursing under her breath.

Laila closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping.

Jimbo just stared.

Tommy looked out over the highway, at the distant city skyline. Philadelphia. It had never seemed so far away, so utterly out of reach.

But what choice did they have?

To stay here was to die.

To go back was unthinkable.

The only path was forward.

Tommy swallowed hard, tasting bile at the back of his throat. He turned to the others. “We need to keep moving, We stick to the plan. We get to Philly, we find my family. We survive. Let’s gather what we can, and move out.”

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of indigo and violet. Tommy walked at the head of the group, his bat resting on his shoulder, his shotgun strapped to his pack, his eyes constantly scanning the surrounding landscape for threats.

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Behind him, the others trudged in silence, the only sounds the scuff of their boots on the asphalt and the occasional whispered word of warning. Fatigue weighed heavy on every face, etched into the lines around their eyes and the tight set of their jaws.

Tommy’s own body ached with every step, his muscles begging for rest, his injured ankle throbbing in time with his pulse. But he pushed the pain aside, forced himself to keep moving. They couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t risk being caught out in the open after dark.

Roxy, pointed to something in the distance.

Tommy followed her gaze, squinting against the failing light. There, shuffling along the side of the road, was a lone zombie.

He raised a fist, signalling for the others to halt. They clustered together, watching as the creature stumbled closer.

Zero unslung his rifle, bringing it up to his shoulder in one smooth motion. He sighted down the barrel, his finger hovering over the trigger.

The crack of the gunshot made Tommy flinch.

The zombie crumpled, its head snapping back as the bullet found its mark.

No one moved.

Tommy’s heart pounded in his ears, his eyes straining to pierce the deepening shadows. But the road remained empty, still.

With a jerk of his head, he motioned for the others to keep moving. They fell back into their weary march.

The light continued to fade as they walked. In the distance, the silhouettes of buildings began to take shape, rising up out of the gathering gloom.

West Chester. The outskirts of the town loomed ahead.

Tommy raised a hand, bringing the group to a halt at the edge of town. They stood in the shadow of an overturned delivery truck.

Tommy peered into the streets ahead, his eyes straining to penetrate the darkness. Abandoned cars sat scattered along the road, their windows smashed, their doors hanging open. He could make out the dim shapes of storefronts and houses, their windows dark and lifeless.

But it was the silence that unnerved him the most. It pressed down on him like a physical weight, thick and oppressive.

Every instinct told him to turn back, to flee. But they had nowhere else to go, no other choice.

Slowly, he stepped out from behind the truck, his bat held low and ready and led the way through the darkened streets, his senses straining for any sign of danger.

Behind him, the others followed in silence. They needed to find shelter, and soon. Somewhere defensible, where they could rest and regroup, plan their next move.

Tommy scanned the buildings around them, looking for anything that might serve. Most were too exposed, too vulnerable to attack. But then, tucked away in a narrow alley, he spotted a shipping container, its metal sides rusted and dented, but still solid. It was half-hidden behind a dumpster, almost invisible in the gloom.

“There. Let’s check it out. We might be able to hole up in that for the night.”

Zero followed his gaze and gave a nod.

They approached the container, Tommy in the lead.

He tested the doors, found them unlocked.

Slowly, carefully, he eased them open, peering into the dark interior.

It was empty, save for a few scattered pieces of debris. The floor was cold metal, but dry.

He turned back to the others. “Lai, Rox, you two get inside, start setting up camp. Zero, you stand guard. Jimbo, you’re with me. We need to check the perimeter, make sure we’re secure.”

Without a word, Laila and Roxy disappeared into the container, their flashlight beams cutting through the darkness.

He turned to Jimbo, jerking his head towards the alley entrance. “Let’s go.”

Tommy took the lead, his bat held low, his eyes scanning the shadows.

The alley was narrow, choked with garbage sacks and overturned trashcans. They picked their way through, stepping over broken glass and twisted metal.

At the mouth of the alley, Tommy paused. He peered out into the street, his heart pounding in his chest.

It was empty, the shops and homes dark.

Satisfied they were alone, Tommy turned back to the others. “Okay, let’s—”

He froze, the words dying on his lips.

At the far end of the alley, he saw movement.

Two figures, pressed close together, their faces inches apart.

Zero and Roxy. Kissing.

Tommy stared, his mind reeling.

He knew he should look away, should give them their privacy. But he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the sight, from the way Zero’s hands cupped Roxy’s butt, the way her fingers tangled in his hair.

It was wrong. It was a betrayal, a knife in Jimbo’s back.

He had thought Roxy and Jimbo were together, had seen the way they looked at each other, the casual intimacy of their touches.

But this…this changed everything.

The pair pulled away from each other and slipped into the shipping container.

Tommy stood frozen, his mind still reeling.

“All clear on my end,” Jimbo said. “Nothing but empty streets and abandoned cars.”

Tommy started, nearly dropping his bat. He turned to face Jimbo, his heart racing.

He opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell Jimbo, to warn him about Roxy and Zero.

But as he looked at Jimbo’s face, he hesitated.

Was it really his place to say anything? And what would it do to the group’s dynamic, to their chances of survival, if he brought this to light now?

Tommy swallowed hard and forced a neutral expression. “Good. That’s…that’s good.”

Jimbo raised an eyebrow. “You okay, dude?”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” He gestured towards the shipping container. “We should get inside before anyone spots us out here…or anything.”

Tommy sat with his back against the steel wall, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Jimbo lay on a bedroll nearby, humming softly to himself. The familiar tune, some old punk song Tommy couldn’t quite place.

At the small camp stove, Laila stirred a pot of canned soup, the aroma filling the confined space.

In the corner, Roxy and Zero sat close together as they cleaned their weapons, their heads bent low over their task.

An almost unbearable tension permeated the atmosphere. Tommy felt it pressing down on him, thick and suffocating. He knew a secret that could tear the group apart, and the weight of it sat heavy on his chest.

Every glance, every whispered word, seemed loaded with hidden meaning. He wondered how long they could go on like this before something had to give.

He looked across at Roxy, catching her eye. “Can we talk? Outside?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she stood. “Sure.”

He turned on his heel and strode out, not waiting to see if she followed.

The night air raised goosebumps along his arms.

He heard her steps behind him, the scuff of boots on concrete. When she’d caught up, he whirled to face her. “What the hell, Rox?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “What, exactly?”

“You and Zero!” Tommy flung an arm back towards the container. “I saw you two. How could you? What about Jimbo?”

Roxy snorted. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Jimbo knows about me and Zero.”

Tommy recoiled. “What? That’s…Jimbo would never—”

“Oh grow up, Tommy,” she snapped. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I can make my own damn choices about who I’m with? That I don’t need or want you moralising about my sex life?”

Tommy gaped at her. “I don’t understand. You and Jimbo—”

“Yes! Yes, Jimbo and I are together. And yes, Zero and I are together too. And Jimbo knows, because I don’t sneak around or lie to people I care about. We have an understanding, all of us. Not everyone prescribes to your heteronormative, monogamous standards, Tommy.”

“That’s not…I wasn’t…” He shook his head. “You have to know how this looks, Rox. How much it could hurt the group, if things went bad.”

“Don’t you think I know that? You think any of this is easy for me? For us? But it is what it is, and we’re all consenting adults, so I’ll thank you to keep your archaic judgements to yourself.”

Tommy couldn’t formulate a response to that, couldn’t seem to kickstart his brain past the roaring tide of conflicting emotions.

“Just because the world ended doesn’t mean we all stopped being human, stopped having needs and wants.” She stepped closer, jabbed a finger in his chest. “I’ve fought and bled for this group, over and over, just like the rest of you. My personal life is my business. So you keep your nose out of it, before you do damage you can’t undo. We clear?”

Without waiting for his reply, she spun on her heel and stormed back into the container, leaving him alone. He’d overstepped.

Whatever her choices, he owed her more than knee-jerk accusations.

He needed to make this right.

With a grimace and a curse, he walked back to the shipping container. He dreaded the conversation to come. But he couldn’t bear the tension, the fractures in their group cohesion.

When Tommy slipped back inside the shipping container, the others were already settling down for the night. The interior was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a small lantern in the corner.

Jimbo lay sprawled on his bedroll, his soft snores filling the small space. In the far corner, Roxy and Zero were huddled together under a shared blanket, their forms indistinct in the shadows.

Laila sat up against the wall, her eyes following Tommy as he entered.

Tommy unfurled his bedroll, his movements slow and deliberate as his mind churned.

He was supposed to be a punk, wasn’t he? Open-minded, progressive, challenging societal norms.

Yet here he was, thrown completely off-balance by the concept of polyamory. It hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility.

He glanced towards Roxy and Zero, then back to his bedroll.

Should he try to talk to Roxy again now? Clear the air before morning?

Tensions were still too high. They all needed rest, and he needed time to sort through his own thoughts.

As he lay down, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of shame. He’d acted like the very authority figures he’d always railed against, passing judgement without understanding.

He’d have to make it right, but it could wait until morning.

They had enough to deal with without him stirring up more drama in the middle of the night.

He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. But his mind continued to race, replaying the conversation with Roxy, examining his own reactions, and wondering how he could mend the rift he’d caused.

It was a long time before sleep claimed him.

Tommy emerged from the shipping container early the next morning, his eyes gritty, his body aching from a night spent on the hard metal floor. He stretched, wincing as his joints popped and his muscles protested.

Around him, the others were stirring, their movements sluggish.

Laila sat hunched against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, her gaze distant. Jimbo and Zero were packing up their supplies.

Roxy stood at the far end of the container, her back to him, her shoulders tense.

Tommy swallowed hard, steeling himself.

He had been wrong. Wrong to judge, wrong to lash out, wrong to let his own preconceptions cloud his view of the people who mattered most.

He crossed the container, his footsteps ringing on the metal floor.

Roxy didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge his approach, but he saw the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Roxy. Can we talk?”

She turned to face him, her expression guarded, her eyes wary. “What do you want, Tommy?”

He took a deep breath. “I want to apologise. For last night, for the things I said. I was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re sorry?”

He nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I am. I let my own hang-ups get in the way of what’s really important. And I hurt you in the process.”

Roxy was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “I appreciate that. But I’m never going to apologise for who I am.”

“I get that. And I want you to know, I support you. I support all of you, no matter what. We’re in this together, and that’s all that matters.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Roxy’s mouth. “Damn right we are. And we’re going to make it through this, Tommy. We’re going to find your family, and we’re going to build something new. Something better.”

He returned her smile, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. “I know we will.”

“Hate to break this up,” Zero cut in. “But we need to get moving. If we make good time, we should hit Philly before nightfall.”

Tommy nodded, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of finally reaching their destination.

As the group bustled around, packing up their meagre supplies, he made his way over to Laila. “Can you believe it? We’re almost there.”

“Yeah. Great.”

Tommy frowned. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?”

Laila sighed, shaking her head. “What makes you think Philly will be any different from the rest of the country? America has fallen, Tommy. There’s nothing left for us.”

“That’s not true. As long as we’ve got each other, there’s something to live for. We can rebuild, start over.”

“I wish I could believe that.” She checked her handgun, then secured her tyre iron to her belt and pulled on her pack, “But I’ve seen too much to buy into false hope.”

He wanted to argue, to convince her that things would be better, but the words wouldn’t come.

As they filed out of the shipping container and set off on foot towards Philadelphia, the excitement of reaching their goal was overshadowed by a creeping dread, a sense that the worst was yet to come.