Wednesday, December 10, 2025, 8:06 AM
Countdown to Extraction: 66 Hours, 35 Minutes Remaining
Kenzie didn't want her to go.
The thought hit her hard and fast, sharp enough to steal her breath before she even realized it was there.
Because of the cramped, luggage-filled cargo space, Kenzie had to move just to let the older girl reach the door. Her hands shaking, Kenzie awkwardly scrambled over the duffel bags, grabbed the heavy steel handle, and pushed the door open. She stepped out onto the freezing, cracked asphalt first, leaving the space open for Lila to follow.
Cold air rushed in, dragging street noise with it—distant alarms, a single gunshot somewhere far off, and that low, wandering chorus that never stopped long enough to feel like quiet.
The Jeep's cabin felt too small for the moment. Too many bodies. Too much grief packed into the same air. Sweat, diesel fuel, and the coppery stench of old blood clung to them like a second skin. The engine idled in a low, impatient growl—steady, hungry, threatening to become the loudest thing on the block if Ethan lost control for even a second.
Lila climbed out after her, boots hitting the pavement.
Kenzie looked at her, a panicked, crushing weight settling on her chest. They had met less than twenty-four hours ago in the middle of a blood-soaked nightmare, but trauma bonded people fast. Just yesterday, Kenzie had been completely broken—shattered into a million unfixable pieces on the floor of a convenience store—and Lila was the one who had pulled her back from the absolute brink. Lila was the reason she was still breathing.
"Lila," Kenzie said, her voice small and strained in the open air. "Please… don't."
Lila turned, her eyes glassy, her face torn in half by the impossible choice sitting in front of her. For a second, she looked younger—less like the hardened survivor Kenzie had clung to since yesterday, and more like the terrified college kid she actually was.
Kenzie swallowed and forced herself to keep going.
Because silence was a trap. Because if she stopped talking, she'd start sobbing—and if she started sobbing, she might not be able to breathe.
"I've known Alyssa since freshman year," Lila said quickly, the words tumbling out before fear could stop them. "A year and a half, Kenz. We lived together, we cried together, we survived finals together. She's been with Aaron for almost a year now. They're solid. They're real. He's from Savannah. He knows this place. He knows where to go, and where not to go."
Every sentence felt like a rusted nail hammered into something already violently splitting. Kenzie could taste the bitterness of it—how the older girl was desperately building a logical case for why she had to leave.
"They're the only people you really know here," Kenzie said softly, validating it even as her own heart broke. "We just met yesterday. You have history with them."
Lila's mouth trembled.
Kenzie felt something ugly and desperate rise up in her chest, and she hated herself for it—but she said it anyway. Survival wasn't polite.
"You don't know us," Kenzie continued. "Not really. And I don't blame you. This group—" She glanced back into the dark cabin of the Jeep. At the exhaustion. The grief. At Tally curled in on herself, silent and hollow. "—we're falling apart. And I don't feel safe anymore. Not like before. Especially not now."
Her eyes flicked to Tally. She didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to. Justin was gone, the shield was broken, and they all knew it.
Alyssa and Aaron were running toward the Jeep now, breathless, frantic, eyes wild with relief and terror. Alyssa slammed her hands against the side of the truck, smiling and crying at the same time as she crashed into Lila.
"Oh my God," Alyssa sobbed, burying her face in Lila's neck. "I thought you were dead."
They held each other in the street, arms tight, shaking. It wasn't a reunion so much as proof they were still made of flesh. Still capable of love.
Aaron stood guard beside them, crowbar raised, eyes scanning every shadow, every parked car, every dark doorway. His gaze wasn't just protective—it was cold and calculating. Counting angles. Counting seconds.
There was no room in the Jeep. They all knew it.
The desperation was written all over Alyssa's face when she looked at the packed vehicle. The way her eyes flicked to the back, to the trunk, to the floorboards, actively searching for impossible space.
Aaron spoke quickly, voice low but steady. "I've got a plan."
Ethan swore under his breath from the driver's seat. "We don't have time for a goddamn seminar, man. Keep it short."
Aaron didn't blink. "My family's place is south of here. Old neighborhood. Brick houses. Most of them are fortified. My uncle preps—always has. There's a storage shed with generators, water tanks, supplies. If it's still standing, it's safer than the streets."
The word safer landed like a drug.
Not safe. Never safe. Just safer than snapping teeth and freezing asphalt.
Caleb's head snapped up from the floorboards.
"South?" Caleb asked. "Near Richmond Hill?"
Aaron nodded once. "Yeah."
Caleb's breath caught. "My wife's family lives there. Or… lived." His jaw clenched hard, a frantic light entering his eyes. "If there's even a chance—"
His voice did something strange on the last word, twisting like it didn't want to be hope because blind hope had gotten too many people violently killed already.
"I'm going," Caleb said suddenly, awkwardly crawling out of the back, scrambling over the bags. "I can't keep wandering. I need somewhere to go that isn't just running until I die."
Ethan slammed his heavy palm against the steering wheel. "We are burning daylight! I'm seeing movement in the alleys, and I am not sticking around to see if it's real. Make a choice."
The Jeep felt like a heartbeat holding still. A predator's tense pause before it bolts.
Lila looked at Caleb, then at Alyssa, and finally turned back to Kenzie.
"Come with me," Lila pleaded, reaching out her shaking hands. "Please, Kenz. You don't owe them anything. They're not your family either."
Kenzie's heart shattered.
Not because the offer was wrong, but because it was so incredibly tempting. She wanted to run. She wanted to take Lila's hand and disappear into the promise of somewhere safer.
But then she looked into the Jeep.
She looked at Tally, sitting in the dark, completely broken.
Kenzie stepped closer to the open door. Tally didn't look up. She hadn't said a word since her breakdown. Her silence felt heavier, more suffocating, than screaming.
"You probably hate me," Kenzie said softly, her voice carrying clearly into the cabin. "You always did."
Tally's head lifted just slightly, eyes rimmed red, hollow and unfocused.
Kenzie kept going, because she would never get another chance.
"We grew up together," Kenzie cried, her voice cracking, the tears finally spilling over her freezing cheeks. "I've known you my entire life. I lost my parents, Tally. I lost everyone. You are the absolute only piece of home I have left in this entire world, and I don't understand why you look at me like I'm poison."
Tally flinched like she'd been struck. It was small, like touching a deep, rotting bruise.
Kenzie wiped her face angrily, smearing dirt and tears. "I know you thought I followed you around because you were pretty, or loud, or because I just wanted attention. But that's not why. You made the world less scary. You made me feel like I wasn't invisible." Kenzie choked on a violent sob. "I just wanted a best friend. I wanted us to be Serena and Blair. I wanted us to be the girls who took on the whole damn world together. And I'm so sorry I never had the guts to say it before the world ended."
Tally's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
The silence felt unbearable. It felt exactly like the moment a hospital monitor goes flat and everyone still pretends there's time—hands moving anyway, voices loud anyway, because the second you stop, it becomes real.
Lila stepped closer, grabbing Kenzie's sleeve. "Kenzie, please."
Kenzie looked back at the Jeep. At Dot holding Tally. At Mari, hollow-eyed and wrecked. At Ethan, carrying a weight he hadn't ever asked for.
Kenzie shook her head, sobbing. "I can't."
The word came out like something torn free. Like an IV being ripped out of a vein because someone yanked completely too hard.
Lila let out a devastating, broken sound.
They hugged incredibly hard—desperate, clinging, the exact kind of suffocating hug meant to imprint a physical memory because you know it's the last one you'll ever get. Kenzie felt Lila's freezing fingers violently dig into her jacket like she was trying to hold onto a timeline where the world hadn't collapsed. Kenzie pressed her face into Lila's shoulder and inhaled that familiar scent, desperately trying to memorize it like a dying thing.
"I love you," Lila whispered.
Kenzie nodded against her. "I love you too. Thank you for yesterday."
"Watch out! They're here!" Ethan's voice suddenly ripped through the quiet, a harsh, panicked roar from the driver's seat.
A wet, guttural growl rolled through the street directly behind them.
Low. Close.
Not the distant chorus. A single, decaying throat close enough that Kenzie could hear the thick, acidic saliva rattling in its ruined lungs.
Aaron spun on the asphalt, his heavy steel crowbar raised high.
A shape lunged from the deep shadows between two parked cars—moving with terrifying, unnatural speed. Too fast. Too close. A woman with half her throat torn out, reaching forward with blackened, frozen fingers.
Alyssa screamed.
The world snapped violently back into motion.
"Goddammit, they're on us!" Ethan roared, grabbing his combat knife. "Shut the fucking door!"
And whatever agonizing choice Kenzie had made, whatever fragile goodbye had just happened—the dead absolutely didn't care.
They were already here.
Wednesday, December 10, 2025, 8:12 AM
Countdown to Extraction: 66 Hours, 29 Minutes Remaining