For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Justin disappeared into the alley, swallowed by bodies and shadow, and inside the Jeep the world stalled—like reality itself had forgotten what came next.
Even the engine sounded wrong—idling too loud, too alive for a parking lot that had turned into a mouth.
The propane tanks lay where they'd dropped them, dull metal cylinders reflecting the station lights like they were still part of the plan. Gasoline continued to spill somewhere out of sight, a steady hiss-drip that threaded through the silence like a fuse.
Then Tally screamed.
It tore out of her chest raw and animal, his name ripped apart by grief and terror."JUSTIN—JUSTIN—NO—NO—NO—"
She surged forward from the floor, slamming into the back of Mari's seat, clawing at the headrest like she could tear her way through it and pull him back by force alone.
Her nails snagged on fabric. Her hands shook so hard she couldn't get purchase, so she just kept clawing anyway, like pain might make the world listen.
"STOP—STOP THE CAR—GO BACK—GO BACK—"
Mari didn't respond.
She couldn't.
Her hands were still locked on the steering wheel, white-knuckled, shaking so hard the wheel rattled. Her eyes were fixed on the alley where Justin had vanished, unblinking, glassy, her mouth open like she'd forgotten how to breathe.
The red glow of the station sign painted her face in bruised color—like she was already becoming part of the night.
Behind them, the Jeep rocked as bodies pressed in again—hands slapping metal, a dull thud against the rear window.
The glass flexed.
A crack spidered at the corner.
Tally screamed louder.
"THAT'S MY BROTHER—THAT'S MY BROTHER—"
Marcus reacted first.
He lunged, wrapping an arm around Tally's shoulders from behind, trying to drag her back down. She fought him with surprising strength, thrashing, sobbing, nails scraping skin.
Her elbow caught his ribs. He grunted, tightened his hold.
"LET ME GO—LET ME GO—"
"Dot!" Marcus shouted, panic edging his voice. "NOW!"
Dot moved without hesitation. Years of mothering, of emergency rooms and bad news and keeping people alive through chaos kicked in. She clamped her hand over Tally's mouth, pressing firmly—not cruel, but unyielding—pulling her back against her chest.
Tally bit down hard, muffled screams turning into wet, broken sounds.
Dot flinched but didn't let go.
Blood welled at the edge of Dot's finger where teeth pierced skin, but she kept her palm sealed tight like she could hold the whole Jeep together with one hand.
"Stop," Dot hissed in her ear, voice shaking but fierce. "You're killing us."
Tally's whole body convulsed. Tears soaked Dot's sleeve as she shook her head violently, eyes wild, ruined.
She looked like she was drowning on dry land.
"That's what he did this for," Dot said, barely holding it together. "He ran so you'd live. Don't waste it."
Kenzie started crying then—silent at first, then louder, face buried against Lila's shoulder. Lila held her tighter, eyes squeezed shut, whispering over and over, "I know, I know, I know," like repetition might stitch the moment back together.
Kenzie's shoulders shook so hard her breath stuttered.
Barbie whined from wherever she'd been shoved, small and frightened, the only living thing in the Jeep that didn't understand why the world had turned into teeth.
The Jeep rocked again.
Harder.
A fist hit the passenger-side window so close it made everyone flinch at once.
A face pressed against the glass, eyes milky, lips peeled back from gums. Teeth clicked. Tongue smeared saliva in frantic strokes.
Mari finally broke.
Her breath hitched once—twice—and then she folded forward, forehead slamming into the steering wheel with a hollow thud. A sound came out of her that didn't sound human at all—half sob, half scream—her shoulders caving inward like something vital had been ripped out of her chest.
"I left him," she gasped. "I left him—I left him—"
Hands hit the hood again.
The entire vehicle shuddered.
Something scraped down the driver's-side door, nails dragging paint with a sound that made the skin on everyone's arms crawl.
A face smashed against the windshield, teeth clicking, saliva streaking down the glass.
Ethan moved.
He reached forward, gripping Mari's shoulders and hauling her back hard, pulling her out of the driver's seat with controlled force. She resisted weakly, hands grasping for the wheel, tears blinding her.
Her fingers slipped, leaving damp streaks on the leather.
"Mari," he snapped. "Look at me."
She didn't.
He shook her once—not rough, but grounding. "Mari!"
Her eyes finally met his.
They were shattered.
"He's gone," she whispered. "He's gone because of me."
"No," Ethan said immediately, voice firm, cutting through the noise like a blade. "He's gone because he chose it."
Mari shook her head, sobbing. "I should've—"
Ethan cut her off. "He made the call. Just like he always did."
The words hit all of them at once.
Justin had always been the one deciding when to move. When to stop. When to risk it. When to run. He had been the spine holding them upright when everything else bent.
And now—
Now there was a hole where that certainty used to be.
A vacuum.
A silence that didn't stay silent—because the dead filled it with their breathing.
Ethan slid into the driver's seat without ceremony, hands steady despite the chaos, eyes already scanning mirrors and angles and threats.
"Everyone listen to me," he said, louder than a whisper but not a shout. Command filled the space Justin had left behind. "We leave. Right now. Slow and steady."
He adjusted the wheel a fraction, calculating gaps between bodies like he was threading a needle through flesh.
Tally let out another broken sound behind Dot's hand, eyes burning with rage and grief and guilt. She thrashed once more, then went limp, her body sagging like the fight had finally drained out of her.
"He was all I had," she choked. "He was all I had."
Dot didn't let go. She rested her forehead against Tally's temple. "I know, baby."
Ethan eased the Jeep forward.
The dead followed.
Not rushing. Not swarming.
Stalking.
Hands scraped paint. Fingers hooked door handles uselessly. A body stumbled under the tire and rolled away with a wet crunch.
The Jeep jolted.
Someone whimpered.
Mari stared straight ahead now, tears still falling, silent and relentless.
Her lips moved like she was saying something, but no sound came out.
Marcus swallowed hard. "They're tracking us."
"I know," Ethan said. "Eyes forward."
The Jeep crept toward the edge of the lot, pulling free inch by inch, Justin's absence screaming louder than any horn ever could.
Behind them, the alley remained empty.
No movement.
No sound.
No sign.
And that—
That was what broke Mari completely.
She pressed her fist against her mouth, choking on a sob as the Jeep cleared the gas station and rolled onto the street.
Justin wasn't coming back.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
And as the dead shuffled after them, drawn by motion and memory and the scent of living flesh, every single person inside the Jeep understood the same unbearable truth:
They hadn't just lost their leader.
They'd lost the one person who always knew what to do next.
And now—
They had to survive without him.
And none of them were ready for how loud that absence would get once the screaming stopped.