The road stretched out, empty except for the broken signs and cracked asphalt. The ATV rattled beneath them, its engine a steady hum. Iyisha hugged her arms tighter around Malcolm's waist, the cold wind biting through her clothes.
They had been back on the road well before dawn.
"Exit up ahead," Malcolm called over his shoulder. "Macon. There's a gas station right by the entrance. We'll check it."
Iyisha's stomach tightened. "Do we have to? Can't we skip it?"
He slowed a little, glancing back. "Gas is running low. Better check it now. We skip, we walk."
She bit her lip, nodding. "Alright."
They switched drivers. Malcolm handed her the handlebars, his eyes scanning the sides of the road while she drove. The ATV felt heavier under her hands, every bump sharper, every sound louder.
By the time the town came into view, her nerves were raw. The first thing she saw was the gas station: its roof sagging, signs half torn. Vehicles were scattered all around the lot, doors hanging open, glass shattered.
And the walkers.
They shuffled between cars, some bumping into each other, others dragging themselves toward faint sounds. Iyisha's breath caught in her throat.
"Stop here," Malcolm said. He slid off, pulling the blade from his belt.
She stayed seated, gripping the handlebars too tight as she watched him move. He slipped between cars, blade flashing quick and sure. A walker dropped without a sound, then another.
"Keep your eyes open," he warned low. "Check for twitchers."
Her heart pounded. "Right."
They checked the pumps first, Malcolm yanking the nozzles. Nothing but dry coughs of air. He cursed under his breath.
"No gas?" she asked.
Malcolm crouched by the pumps again, scanning the concrete. Iyisha stepped closer, her Glock steady in her hands as she kept watch on the shadows.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"Here." He tapped a metal cover on the ground. "Underground tank."
He wedged a bar under the edge and forced it open, the manhole cover creaking loud in the silence.
Malcolm rummaged in the back of the ATV and came up with a cut plastic jug. He tied it to a length of rope and lowered it into the fill pipe. The jug clinked as it scraped the sides, then sloshed faintly when he hauled it back up half full. He poured the fuel into their container and lowered it again.
Iyisha made a face. "That looks like a pain in the ass."
"Is," Malcolm muttered, lowering the jug again. "Takes forever. But in an apocalypse? You do it."
Iyisha peered into the container, frowning at the suspicious brownish fluid inside.
"Will that even work? Doesn't look like gas."
Malcolm kept his eyes moving over the lot, scanning the shadows. "Could." He lowered the jug again, voice low and steady. "Could be enough to keep us moving. Mix it with the fresh stuff, stretch it out."
Iyisha continued the slow work of filling the container, her arms aching from the repetition. Malcolm had drifted toward the edge of the lot, taking out the walkers that crept too close, his blade cutting quick and silent. When she finally filled the gallon, he tied it off and gave the lot a last look.
"Let's check for more supplies," he said.
She caught his arm, shaking her head. "Let's just go," she said, voice tight.
He shook his head.
"Not smart. On the bridges, they don't wave you through for free. They'll turn us back if we've got nothing."
She blinked. "Toll?"
His eyes flicked to the ATV. "At this point, they'd even take the ride."
Her brows drew together. "But aren't bridges military checkpoints?"
He smirked, the look carrying no humor. "Even the military pulls this. They can make us turn around if we don't give them something."
Iyisha exhaled shakily. "Okay."
They circled back to a Dollar General beside the gas station. The glass front was busted, shelves toppled inside. Malcolm scanned it once and turned to her.
"Stay behind. Watch the lot."
Her stomach knotted but she nodded, gun ready in her hand. Malcolm slipped inside, leaving her outside with her pulse climbing.
The distant walkers were still too far, but the silence pressed heavy.
Movement caught her eye. A dog padded out from between two cars, ribs showing, head low.
Iyisha froze.
Dogs now were wild, dangerous. She watched it sniff along the ground, nosing through trash, maybe hunting. Her breath came shallow as she prayed Malcolm would hurry.
A muffled gunshot popped from inside the store, made her flinch.
The dog's head snapped toward her, lips curling back, a growl rising from its throat.
"Shit, Malcolm," she whispered, climbing onto the ATV as the dog crept closer. She glanced back nervously toward the store, trying to catch a glimpse of him. He almost never used his gun, he hated the noise, and the muffled shot had her on edge.
The dog barked suddenly, the sharp sound ripping through the lot. The walkers hadn't cared about the dog itself, they never did with animals, but the noise was different.
The bark cut sharp through the air, and that sound made them twitch and turn, heads snapping toward the noise. Her heart hammered as danger closed in.
From the corner of her eye she caught movement—a twitcher, low to the ground, racing toward her on all fours.
"Malcolm!" she shouted, realizing the closer undead had spotted her.
She swung her gun toward the dog still barking, but her hand shook and she couldn't pull the trigger.
She tried aiming at the twitcher instead, firing off shots that went wide, never hitting the head. "Malcolm!" she screamed again as it came closer.
Her foot slipped on the seat and she crashed hard to the ground. Pain jolted up her hip as she scrambled backward, palms scraping asphalt.
The twitcher vaulted onto the ATV, landing in a crouch. It jerked its head side to side, sniffing the air like a predator, then its gaze locked on her.
Iyisha's stomach lurched. She tried to crawl faster, but the thing screeched and hurled itself off the ATV straight at her.
A gunshot cracked, muffled but close.
The twitcher collapsed on top of her, reeking and half-rotten. Gagging, she shoved the corpse off, her hands slick with gore. The dog skittered back, retreating, and she saw Malcolm appear from the shadows, weapon still raised.
She gagged on the stench, pushing the corpse off with shaking hands. Malcolm's grip yanked her upright.
"Damn it, Iyisha." His voice was rough, but steady.
Her heart thundered at how close it had been and at how useless she'd felt when it mattered most.