Tucker peered over the dashboard and groaned. "Can't we catch a break?"

  "Guess not," I muttered, gripping the wheel tighter.

  He shot me a tired look from beneath his thick eyelashes. "That was rhetorical."

  I shrugged. Tucker didn’t look too good—his face was pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and sweat clung to his skin. He was still breathing hard, probably from a nightmare. He kept his gaze on the road ahead, scanning the ruined town, but I found myself watching him instead.

  Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached forward and brushed a stray piece of hair from his forehead. His eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, he leaned in slightly. My heart stuttered—

  BANG!

  A rotting hand slammed against the hood of the truck.

  Both of us jolted back, and I fumbled with the keys, shoving them into the ignition. The engine sputtered before roaring to life.

  “What the hell do we do?!” I screeched as the first wave of zombies lurched toward us, drawn by the noise.

  Tucker moved fast—grabbing me by the waist and lifting me over him as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “We go through them!" he yelled, punching the gas.

  The truck shot forward, crushing bodies under the wheels with sickening crunches. For the first couple hundred feet, we made good progress, plowing through the horde like a battering ram. But more zombies spilled out of buildings, drawn by the commotion.

  Tucker gritted his teeth and slammed the gas pedal harder.

  Instead of surging forward, the truck jerked and stalled.

  “We’re stuck,” he said flatly.

  Panic surged in my chest, but when I looked over, Tucker was just sitting back in his seat, almost… calm. Somehow, that steadiness bled into me. If we were about to die, at least we wouldn’t go out screaming.

  Glass shattered.

  A bloodied hand punched through the windshield, followed by a gnashing face. The zombie lunged at me—

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  BANG!

  Blood splattered across my face. The body slumped forward, a mess of flesh and bone. I was frozen. Somewhere outside, more gunshots rang out, cutting through the chaos.

  “HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO Y’ALL THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

  A man’s voice bellowed from a nearby storefront. I turned toward the sound and saw a bearded man pressed against a glass window, frantically waving us over.

  Tucker didn’t hesitate. He swung the door open and grabbed my hand. We bolted, dodging grabbing hands and snapping jaws. Every zombie that got too close was taken down by unseen shooters.

  We barely made it inside before the doors slammed shut behind us.

  Breathing hard, I was instantly bombarded with questions.

  “Who the hell are y’all?”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Are y’all stupid?”

  Three more people descended from the rooftop, guns still in hand, staring at us like we were the dumbest people alive.

  I forced myself to breathe. “I’m Ellie. This is Tucker.” I gestured toward him. “We’re heading to Texas. This was the way the map said to go.”

  I didn’t bother answering the last question. It was obvious—we were stupid.

  The man who had let us in scoffed. "Y'all are crazy sons of bitches. I'm Harley." He extended a hand.

  Tucker and I shook it.

  Harley gestured toward the others. “This is my wife, Deb. My cousin Olivia. And John—we met him on the road.”

  “Thanks for saving our lives,” I said sincerely. “We owe you.”

  Harley scratched his beard absentmindedly. "It’s what any good man would do."

  Tucker nodded. “Where were y’all headed?”

  “Texas, too,” Harley answered. “Me, Deb, and Olivia are from there. We were vacationing in Washington when all this started. Been making our way back since.”

  Tucker perked up at that. “I heard there’s a safe zone in Wimberley. Any of you know about that?”

  Deb stepped forward. “Haven’t heard about a safe zone, but we’re headed to New Braunfels—that’s only about thirty minutes from Wimberley. If y’all come with us first, we’ll go to Wimberley together.”

  Harley shot his wife a sharp look, clearly not agreeing with the offer. Deb glared right back. He sighed in defeat. “Yeah, sure. We’d be happy to have you.”

  “That’d be great,” Tucker and I said at the same time.

  A tense silence followed. Then Olivia broke it.

  “Uh… what do we do about that?” She pointed toward the storefront.

  We all turned.

  Zombies were pressed against the glass, smearing blood and grime against it as they clawed for us.

  "That ain't gonna hold long," John muttered. "We need to go. Now."

  “Our van’s out back,” Harley said. “We were using the alleyways to avoid the horde. The only reason we stopped here was to scavenge. Good thing we did, or y’all would be dead.”

  Tucker and I exchanged looks. He nodded.

  “Will your van hold all six of us?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s got extra room,” Deb answered.

  "Then let's move," Harley commanded.

  We hurried to the back door.

  John and Harley had their guns raised, while Deb and Olivia gripped their knives. Tucker and I hadn't grabbed anything—we had left our weapons in the truck.

  Still, we slipped out into the alley and ran for the van.

  We piled in—Harley driving, Deb beside him. John and Olivia took the second row, leaving Tucker and me crammed in the back.

  We had only been with this group for an hour, but it was already clear—Harley was in charge. I liked him well enough, but I had always had a problem with authority figures. Give someone a little power, and suddenly they thought they were the best thing since sliced bread.

  "You know, we never did get the supplies we came for," Olivia piped up.

  “Holy shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Harley groaned. "Next store we see, we're stopping. We need food."

  At the mention of food, my stomach growled.

  "Agreed," I said.

  We drove for what felt like hours. I must’ve dozed off at some point because I woke to the sound of someone calling my name.

  “Ellie.”

  My head snapped up—from Tucker’s chest.

  Oh god.

  There was a small wet spot on his shirt.

  I slobbered on Tucker's chest.

  "What the hell," I whispered. What was I even doing sleeping on him in the first place?!

  Tucker blinked at me, concerned. “You okay? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

  I forced a small smile. "I’m fine. What did you need?"

  "Harley said there should be a grocery store up ahead. You up for a run?"

  I nodded quickly, trying to ignore the heat rising to my face.

  As we sat in silence, waiting for the van to stop, I made a mental note:

  Never sleep near Tucker again.