The sun rose sluggishly over the horizon, casting gold over gray, but it brought no warmth.
They were moving again.
The truck rolled slowly along the cracked highway, its tires crunching over debris and old bones bleached by time and weather. Mist swirled at the edges of the world, thinner here but still watching, still waiting.
Leo was curled in Zara's lap, thumb tucked into his mouth, hair matted with sleep. Every bump in the road jolted his small frame, but he didn't stir.
Winter sat across from them, head leaned back, fingers resting lightly on his rifle. His eyes were closed, but Zara knew he wasn't asleep.
None of them truly slept anymore.
At the front, Sam muttered something to keep himself awake most likely, voice low. Naomi dozed with her daughter and son tucked beneath her arm, while Mike kept scanning the road like he expected it to peel open and reveal monsters at any second.
