The air between them was heavy with exhaustion, but neither spoke at first. Hugo and Riley sat near the back of the old moving van, the metal interior cool against their backs. Outside, the city was deceptively still, but the distant echoes of groaning walkers carried through the streets—a reminder that safety was temporary.

  Salem remained close to Hugo’s side, his tail flicking with barely concealed irritation. He watched Riley with unblinking yellow eyes, clearly unimpressed by her presence.

  Riley huffed out a small breath, stretching her sore arms. “So… you just go everywhere with a cat?”

  Hugo glanced down at Salem, scratching the cat behind the ear. “Yeah.”

  Riley snorted. “That’s gotta be the weirdest thing I’ve seen since all this started.”

  Hugo didn’t respond. He had been through too much to think traveling with a cat was strange. If anything, Salem had been the only thing keeping him sane.

  Riley ran a hand through her tangled hair, sighing. “Guess it’s not the weirdest thing in the world anymore. I saw a guy last week covered in, like… tinfoil. Looked like he thought the zombies were some government experiment, and wearing metal would stop them from reading his mind.”

  Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Did it?”

  She grinned, but there was no humor in it. “Nope. Got torn apart two blocks later.”

  Hugo shook his head, leaning against the van wall. The tension in his muscles was finally starting to dull, but his body still ached from the endless running and fighting. The chase through the city had taken everything out of them. Riley had grabbed a bag of food before they ran—at least they wouldn’t have to scavenge for a bit.

  “I still don’t get how you’ve kept him alive,” Riley said after a pause, nodding toward Salem. “Like… he doesn’t make noise? Doesn’t run off?”

  Hugo gave a small smirk. “He’s smarter than most people.”

  Salem gave a slow blink, curling his tail around himself as if to prove the point.

  Riley chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, well. Guess if I had a cat, I’d want one like that.”

  The weight of exhaustion finally settled into Hugo’s bones. He had been running on fumes for too long, pushing through sheer survival instinct. Now that they had found a place—temporary as it was—his body demanded rest.

  He exhaled and sat up straighter. “We’ll sleep here tonight. I’ll take first watch.”

  Riley raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You look like hell.”

  Hugo gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve had worse.”

  She didn’t argue, just adjusted her position, leaning against the van door. “Wake me up in a few hours, then. I don’t mind taking a turn.”

  Hugo nodded, but he knew once she was asleep, he wouldn’t wake her. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her yet, but at least for now, she wasn’t trying to kill him.

  Salem nestled against his side, his warmth familiar and grounding. Hugo let out one last slow breath, his eyelids growing heavier.

  Just a few hours. Then he’d decide what came next.

  Hugo woke before the first light of dawn.

  His body stirred with a familiar sense of unease, the kind that came after too many nights spent on edge. The inside of the moving van was dim, the cold air seeping through the cracks in the rusted metal. He exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, adjusting to the silence.

  Salem was still curled up beside him, tucked into the warmth of his jacket. The cat let out a soft sigh in his sleep, his tail flicking slightly.

  Riley, however, was still out cold.

  Hugo sat up, resting his arms on his knees as he watched her. She had turned onto her side sometime in the night, her head resting against her duffel bag, her arms curled close to her chest. Her face, now free of the tension and sharp edges that came with being awake, looked younger than he had initially thought.

  Vulnerable.

  She had been lucky. If Hugo hadn’t been there, she would have died in that market.

  And now she was his problem.

  He ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply through his nose.

  Riley was a liability.

  He barely knew her. She could slow him down, make mistakes, get him killed. He had spent too much time refining his survival, perfecting his instincts, making sure every action led to a better outcome. He couldn’t afford dead weight.

  The smart thing to do was to leave.

  Let her fend for herself.

  His fingers absentmindedly tapped against his knee as he weighed his options.

  She had handled herself well in the market. She wasn’t completely useless. She was quick on her feet, she hadn’t hesitated to run, and she had been smart enough to grab supplies when they had the chance.

  Maybe she could be of use.

  Maybe, for once, he wouldn’t have to go it alone.

  Hugo frowned, shifting his gaze back to her. Her breath was slow, even, her body still. But as he watched, she shivered slightly, her thin jacket doing little to shield her from the cold.

  His chest tightened, just slightly.

  Before he could think about it too much, he reached for his bag, pulling out one of the blankets he had stuffed into it back at the fire station. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then draped it over her.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

  That was that, then.

  He leaned back, glancing toward the doors of the van. The city outside was quiet—too quiet. The sooner they moved, the better.

  Hugo reached over and gave Riley’s shoulder a firm shake.

  She jolted awake with a sharp inhale, her eyes darting wildly for half a second before she remembered where she was. Her body tensed, her hand moving toward the knife at her hip.

  “It’s morning,” Hugo said simply. “Time to go.”

  Riley blinked at him, still half in the haze of sleep. She sat up slowly, running a hand through her tangled hair, shivering slightly before realizing she had a blanket over her. She frowned, glancing at him.

  “You give me this?”

  Hugo shrugged. “You looked cold.”

  She studied him for a long second, then scoffed. “Didn’t peg you for the thoughtful type.”

  Hugo ignored that. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulders. “We need to move. The gunshots from last night probably stirred up everything in the area.”

  Riley stretched, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. “Yeah, yeah. I’m moving.” She glanced around the van, frowning. “Guess I should say thanks for not ditching me in the middle of the night.”

  “I thought about it,” Hugo admitted.

  Riley let out a dry chuckle. “Comforting.”

  Hugo gave her a pointed look. “You’re still a liability. But if you pull your weight, maybe you’ll be useful.”

  Riley scoffed, standing up and rolling her shoulders. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Hugo ignored her sarcasm and peeked through the back doors of the van. The street was still. No immediate threats. But that didn’t mean much.

  He looked back at her. “I'm heading for the river.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I’m going, too. There’s a bridge not far from here. ”

  Hugo hesitated for half a second, then nodded.

  She studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge how much she trusted him. Then she sighed, reaching down to grab her bag. “Well, guess that means we’re stuck together for now.”

  Hugo didn’t bother responding. He just pushed open the doors, scanning the area one last time.

  No movement.

  Good.

  He stepped out first, keeping low. Riley followed, pulling the blanket tighter around her for a second before stuffing it into her bag.

  Salem hopped down beside them, tail flicking as he sniffed the air.

  Hugo tightened the straps of his bag, adjusting the weight. The bridge was still miles away, and the city was unpredictable.

  But at least, for now, he wasn’t going alone.

  Without another word, they moved.

  The city stretched out before them, a vast maze of ruined streets and skeletal buildings. The further they moved toward the bridge, the more desolate the roads became. Nature had already started reclaiming parts of the concrete jungle—vines creeping up cracked buildings, weeds splitting through the pavement. The streets, however, were still littered with signs of human desperation. Abandoned cars, toppled streetlights, scattered belongings left behind in the chaos.

  Hugo led the way, keeping his steps quiet, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. Riley followed a few steps behind, her breathing a little heavier than before. Salem moved between them, occasionally darting ahead to sniff at something before slinking back.

  They had been walking for a while, and the sun had climbed higher in the sky. The air was thick, the humidity clinging to their skin.

  After a while, Riley let out a sharp breath and wiped at her forehead. “Hold up.”

  Hugo stopped and glanced back at her. She was sweating more than she should have been, her face paler than before. She took another deep breath, rolling her shoulders like she was trying to shake off the exhaustion.

  “You alright?” Hugo asked.

  “Yeah, just—” Riley exhaled sharply. “I need a minute. And water. I'm running low.” She gestured toward a half-crushed bar on the corner of the street. “Think we can check that place? There’s gotta be something to drink in there.”

  Hugo studied her for a second, then glanced at the building. The windows were mostly intact, the doors still shut. A good sign, but not a guarantee.

  He nodded. “Alright. But stay close.”

  They moved toward the entrance cautiously. The bar had once been a lively place—there were faded neon signs in the windows, old flyers plastered along the brick wall advertising drink specials and live music. The glass door had a deep crack running through it, but it held as Hugo tested it with a push.

  He pressed his ear to the frame and listened.

  Silence.

  That didn’t mean much.

  He gave Riley a quick glance. “Stay behind me.”

  She nodded, and he carefully pushed the door open.

  The smell hit them first—stale alcohol, damp wood, and the underlying rot of something long-dead. The bar was dim, the only light filtering through the windows, casting long shadows across the booths and tables. Dust hung in the air, disturbed by their movement.

  Hugo stepped inside, crowbar in hand, his eyes scanning the room. The bar counter stretched along the left side, a row of shattered stools knocked over in front of it. Behind the counter, shelves of liquor bottles lined the wall, some missing, others still intact. A few booths in the back were overturned, and broken glass littered the floor.

  No immediate movement.

  But something felt…off.

  Riley moved up beside him, keeping her voice low. “Think we’re good?”

  Hugo didn’t answer immediately. He gestured for her to stay put, then moved deeper into the bar, careful to avoid the broken glass. He stepped behind the counter, checking for supplies. There were a few half-empty bottles of whiskey, but that wouldn’t help them now. He crouched, opening the minifridge beneath the bar.

  Empty.

  Damn.

  Riley shifted impatiently. “Any water?”

  “Not here.” Hugo stood and turned toward the storage room in the back. The door was slightly ajar, just enough to see that the inside was pitch black.

  Something twisted in his gut.

  He raised his crowbar, nudging the door open further with his foot. The hinges creaked, the sound too loud in the silence.

  The backroom was small, lined with shelves that had once held crates of liquor. Some of them had been knocked over, glass bottles shattered on the floor. The smell of spoiled beer and something worse clung to the air.

  And in the far corner—

  Movement.

  Hugo had just enough time to shift before something lunged at him.

  A walker, half-crushed beneath fallen shelving, dragged itself forward with bony fingers, its jaw snapping violently. Its legs were pinned, but that didn’t stop it from trying to reach him. Its eyes were milky, its skin sagging, half its face missing.

  Hugo didn’t flinch.

  He stepped forward and drove the crowbar straight into its skull.

  The wet crunch echoed in the small space. The walker went still, its body sagging as the fight left it.

  Riley exhaled behind him. “Jesus.”

  Hugo pulled the crowbar free, flicking the gore off it with a sharp motion. “It was stuck. Not a threat.”

  Riley shook her head, glancing at him with something like admiration. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

  Hugo didn’t respond.

  Instead, he turned to scan the shelves. Most were picked clean, but he spotted a crate shoved into the corner. When he pried it open, he found several bottles of water stacked neatly inside.

  Finally.

  He grabbed two and tossed one to Riley. She barely caught it, her fingers fumbling before she twisted the cap off and took a deep gulp.

  Hugo took his own drink, the cool liquid easing the dryness in his throat.

  Riley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay, I take it back. This was a good idea.”

  Hugo snorted but said nothing.

  He checked the rest of the supplies, finding a few peanut bags and a sealed bag of jerky. Not much, but every bit counted. He shoved the food into his bag, taking one last look around.

  “We’re done here,” he said.

  Riley nodded and grabbed another water bottle for later before following him back into the main bar.

  As they made their way to the exit, Salem leapt onto the counter, his tail flicking sharply. His ears were pinned, his body tense.

  Hugo felt it a second later.

  A sound.

  Outside.

  A low groan.

  Then another.

  His stomach twisted.

  Hugo pulled the door open just enough to peek outside.

  His chest tightened.

  The street was no longer empty.

  At least a dozen walkers staggered nearby, their decayed bodies moving sluggishly, drawn toward something unseen. Some shambled between rusted cars, others lingered near the alleyways, their sunken eyes staring blankly.

  Not all of them had noticed the bar yet.

  But some had.

  And more would follow.

  Hugo turned back to Riley. “We need to go.”

  She swallowed hard, nodding. “Lead the way.”

  Hugo tightened his grip on the crowbar, steeling himself.

  They had survived the market.

  They would survive this.

  Without another word, they slipped out the door and into the dead city.