The RV inched along the narrow mountain pass. The road was rocky, filled with ruts and layers of snow and ice. The tires crunched over frozen gravel, the exhaust puffing out white steam in the frigid air. The cliff walls rose high on either side, sloping and jagged like broken teeth. Pine trees bordered the way, their branches bent under the weight of accumulated ice and snow. The sky was pale, empty. Silent. It was like the whole world had frozen over.
Inside, it was another story. It was warm. Close to too warm, the kind of temperature that made people raise their eyebrows in a funny kind of suspicion.
"Okay," Mira said flatly, her feet in front of the tiny fridge. She crossed her arms, staring at the sterile rows of supplies. "Who did you rob to get us an RV that has hot chocolate, Himalayan sea salt, and matching glass jars?"
Tom sat at one of the padded booths near the dinette area, lifting his mug in salute. He grinned smugly. Steam curled up from the hot drink. "There's a drawer full of knives sharp enough to gut a bear. I checked all of them. Twice."
Greer was nearby, still rubbing his hands together to warm up from the frigid air outside. He nodded at the surroundings. "There's a bathroom with a bidet. A heated bidet. I'm not even joking."
Mira had been studying a book she had found tucked neatly into a shelf above the kitchen counter. She was flipping through the pages of a survival guide slowly. "There are color-coordinated towels. The spice rack is alphabetical. Whoever did this… stocked this place like they were planning for a five-star apocalypse."
"And don't forget the lavender oil," Tom muttered, scrubbing his hands on a cloth. "It's the real stuff too."
Adrian came in from the back of the RV, brushing melting snow off his shoulders and jacket. His boots left wet tracks in the clean floor as he approached the others. "Six parkas in various sizes. Waterproof boots, gloves, scarves. There are two crates of long-term rations in the back. Whoever did this prepared for the end of the world."
He paused, his eyes drifting over to the couch where Julyah was curled up under a thick wool blanket. Her legs were tucked beneath her, and her face was half-shrouded by the collar of her coat. She looked half-asleep, peaceful. Like someone who had finally stopped running.
Ellis had been mostly silent throughout all this. He finally cleared his throat, taking a sip of expensive-smelling tea. "Let me get this straight. Either Julyah is a paranoid doomsday prepper, a government spy, or the leader of a secret cult. Personally, I'm voting for cult leader. She's got the mysterious vibe for it. Plus, this RV is the epitome of the 'chosen one prepping for the end of the world' aesthetic."
Julyah cracked one eye open. Her voice was dry. "That sounds exhausting."
Adrian cocked an eyebrow. "But not completely wrong?"
She sighed, and pulled the blanket in closer over her body. "I just had a bad feeling, okay? Instinct. I bought this RV a month before everything went sideways. I fixed it up. Stocked it. I didn't say anything to anyone because I wasn't sure if I was just paranoid or not. I was hoping we'd never need it."
Silence fell over them. A heavy one.
The villa had been more than a shelter. It had been a home. When the world started falling apart, that place had given them something to hold on to. Something real. They had spent months reinforcing it, planting food, patching leaks, and establishing routines.
Then the earthquake hit.
The ground shifted. The walls creaked. One side of the structure sank half a foot overnight.Pipes burst. There was no real choice. If they stayed, it would only be a matter of time before the whole thing collapsed on top of them.
They left with only what they could carry—and what Julyah had already prepared.
Adrian perched on the arm of her couch. His voice was quieter, softer than he was used to. "We're not running anymore. Not like before. But we're still not settled. We haven't found our place yet."
Greer looked up from the sink where he had been sorting through a pile of mismatched spoons. "So… what now? What do we do? Where do we go?"
Ellis reached over and unrolled a large map across the table. The edges were curled, some corners frayed. But the middle of the page was filled with notes and circles drawn in red ink. "We're here. West ridge. About an hour north of the river junction. If we keep going south for two days, there's a ranger station in the hills. Might still be intact."
Tom leaned over the map and nodded. "Good elevation. If there are any towers close by, we might even pick up radio signals. Could find survivors."
Mira frowned. "Or find trouble. People get dangerous when they're desperate."
Adrian looked back over at Julyah. She wasn't saying much. Her fingers were curled on her wrist, near where her flower tattoo shimmered faintly through her sleeve. It was barely visible. Just a glow—soft, like a breath—but it was enough to know it was still there.
He stared at it for a moment, then asked gently, "Are you sure? Leaving the villa, everything we built… are you really okay with this?"
She didn't answer right away. The sound of the RV engine filled the silence, steady and low. Finally, she spoke.
"I don't think we're leaving everything behind," she said, voice quiet."Some things… we take with us. The memories. The lessons. The people we became."
They all looked at her then. Not just because of what she said. But because she said it like she knew it. Like she had already made peace with it.
Adrian nodded slowly. "Then we keep going."
Outside, the wind picked up again. It swept across the snowy trees, howled through the narrow pass like it knew where they were going.But inside the RV, things were still. For the first time in days, there was no panic in the air. Just the quiet rhythm of hope.
The map stayed open on the table.
The hot chocolate stayed warm in their hands.
And the road rolled on, steady and waiting.
If the world had forgotten their names, the road hadn't.
It knew exactly who they were.
And where they needed to go.