Old Highway 44 cut through the woods like the skeleton of something unfinished.
Concrete barriers sat abandoned along the roadside, half buried in weeds and creeping vines. Rusted rebar jutted from broken support columns where construction had simply… stopped years ago. Sections of guardrail ended abruptly, leading nowhere but overgrown dirt and cracked pavement swallowed by nature.
The highway had been meant to save FairHaven once.
At least that's what the town council had promised.
A direct route to the interstate.
More traffic.
More business.
More money.
Then funding vanished halfway through the project, corruption rumors spread through the county offices, and construction crews disappeared almost overnight.
Now the unfinished roadway sat empty above the forest like a forgotten scar.
And tonight—
It had become a rendezvous point.
Ray stood near the edge of the cracked pavement with a rifle slung across his chest, scanning the treeline for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.
The wind moved softly through the unfinished overpass supports overhead.
Too soft.
Too quiet.
Harold leaned against the side of one of the convoy trucks nearby, arms folded tightly across his chest while he watched the opposite end of the highway. A portable lantern beside him cast pale light across the concrete.
Emily sat on the lowered tailgate of another vehicle reloading magazines with practiced hands. Beside her, two men from the convoy quietly checked fuel cans and supplies while another kept lookout with binoculars near the broken guardrail.
Nobody relaxed.
Nobody even pretended to.
The convoy itself sat dark and quiet behind them, engines off for now to avoid drawing attention. Families stayed inside the vehicles with blankets pulled around children while nervous whispers drifted softly through cracked windows.
Every now and then someone looked toward the woods.
Listening.
Waiting.
Because abandoned didn't mean safe anymore.
Ray adjusted the rifle strap against his shoulder and looked toward Harold.
"How long's it been?"
Harold checked his watch automatically before remembering it had stopped hours ago.
"…Feels like forever," he muttered.
Emily slid another magazine into a crate beside her.
"It's been twenty-three minutes," she said quietly.
Ray exhaled through his nose.
Too long.
The forest below the unfinished highway shifted softly in the wind.
Everyone looked immediately.
Weapons rose.
Flashlights snapped toward the trees.
Silence.
Then—
Nothing.
Just branches moving against the dark.
One of the convoy men lowered his rifle slowly.
"Jesus," he muttered under his breath.
Harold didn't lower his.
"Stay sharp."
No one argued.
They'd already seen what happened when people relaxed for even a second.
Ray stepped toward the cracked concrete barrier overlooking the unfinished lower roadway beneath them. From here, he could barely make out the distant glow of FairHaven through the trees.
Or what was left of it.
Faint fires burned somewhere near downtown.
Smoke drifted upward into the night sky.
The town looked dead from here.
Like something abandoned long before tonight.
Emily finally looked up from the magazines.
"You really think they'll make it?"
The question hung heavier than she intended.
Ray didn't answer immediately.
Because everyone knew who she meant.
Harold's jaw tightened slightly.
"They'll make it," he said firmly.
Ray glanced sideways at him.
Harold never took his eyes off the woods.
But something in his expression gave him away.
Concern.
Real concern.
Because for all the confidence in his voice—
Even he wasn't sure anymore.
Emily finished sliding the last magazine into the crate beside her before finally breaking the silence again.
"You really think John made it to Crestwood?"
Her voice stayed low.
Careful not to carry too far into the dark around them.
Ray glanced toward Harold automatically.
Harold didn't answer right away.
He remained standing near the truck with his rifle resting against his shoulder, eyes still scanning the woods beyond the unfinished highway.
Then—
"Yeah," he said simply.
Certain.
Emily studied him.
"You sound pretty confident."
Harold snorted faintly.
"Because I know him."
Ray leaned lightly against the concrete barrier nearby.
"That supposed to make us feel better?" he asked dryly.
Harold finally glanced over at them.
"It should," he replied.
Then a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Course…" he added.
"That probably also means he's already done something incredibly stupid on the way there."
A few tired chuckles broke the tension nearby.
Small.
Brief.
But needed.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
"Stupid how?"
Harold shrugged lightly.
"Oh, I don't know," he muttered. "Maybe fought three of those things alone. Maybe blew up a building. Maybe drove through a wall."
Ray barked a quiet laugh.
"Honestly? Those all sound possible."
"One hundred percent possible," one of the convoy men added from behind a barricade.
Harold's smirk faded slightly as he looked back toward the dark road stretching east.
"But he's hard to kill," he said quietly.
That part wasn't a joke.
The silence settled again after that.
Heavier now.
Because they all knew surviving wasn't the same thing as winning.
The wind moved softly through the unfinished steel supports overhead, creating a low hollow whistle across the abandoned highway.
Emily looked down toward the lower construction level again.
"You think they followed us?"
Ray's expression tightened immediately.
"Probably."
Nobody liked the answer.
"But if they did," he said calmly, "they'll have to come up one way or another."
He glanced toward the narrow unfinished ramp leading to the upper roadway where the convoy waited.
Concrete choke point.
Limited access.
Defensible.
Ray noticed the look immediately.
"You already planning kill zones?"
Harold looked at him flatly.
"I'm always planning kill zones."
That actually got a real laugh out of Emily this time.
Short-lived though it was.
Then—
A faint light flickered far off through the trees below.
Everyone saw it instantly.
The laughter died.
Weapons came up again.
The light vanished.
Then returned.
Moving.
Slowly weaving between the forest trunks far beneath the unfinished highway.
One of the convoy men whispered—
"…Flashlight?"
Ray narrowed his eyes.
Then immediately raised a hand.
"Positions," he ordered quietly.
The convoy members moved without hesitation.
Flashlights clicked off.
People dropped behind concrete barriers and abandoned construction equipment while rifles trained toward the treeline below.
The unfinished highway fell silent again.
Waiting.
The faint light continued weaving through the woods beneath them.
Closer now.
Moving unevenly between the trees.
Not smooth anymore.
Shaking.
Bouncing.
Human.
Maybe.
Nobody fired.
Not yet.
Ray crouched behind a concrete divider near the edge of the roadway, rifle aimed downward while Harold moved beside one of the unfinished support pillars overlooking the ramp access.
Emily stayed near the convoy trucks, pistol drawn now instead of magazines in her hands.
The light flickered again.
Closer.
Branches snapped faintly somewhere below.
Then—
Movement.
Everyone tensed.
A small figure stumbled out of the treeline first.
A child.
Covered in dirt and mud.
Then another.
An older woman emerged behind them clutching a flashlight with shaking hands.
And then—
More.
People.
Survivors.
Dozens of them slowly spilled out from the woods beneath the unfinished highway.
Some injured.
Some crying.
Some barely walking.
Ray's eyes widened slightly.
"…Holy shit."
A little girl near the front suddenly looked up toward the convoy vehicles above.
Her face lit up instantly.
"I see them!" she yelled.
Another child pointed upward excitedly.
"We made it!"
The words echoed up through the unfinished highway.
And suddenly more survivors began stumbling from the woods behind them.
Familiar faces.
People from the convoy.
People they thought were dead.
Mixed together with strangers they'd never seen before.
A man waved frantically toward the upper roadway.
"Don't shoot!" he shouted hoarsely. "Please—we're survivors!"
The tension broke instantly across the convoy.
Weapons lowered.
People began standing from cover.
Emily let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"…Oh thank God."
Ray immediately stood and waved them forward.
They hurried toward the unfinished ramp leading upward, helping each other climb while convoy members rushed down to meet them halfway.
Mothers carrying children.
Injured men limping beside strangers supporting their weight.
Exhausted faces illuminated by lantern light as they finally reached safety.
One of the convoy women broke into tears when she recognized her husband among the group.
Another man collapsed to his knees the second he reached the upper roadway.
Alive.
Somehow alive.
Harold scanned the crowd quickly as they poured onto the unfinished highway.
Searching faces.
Counting heads.
Making sure the living outweighed the dead.
Nearby, reunions broke out across the convoy.
A woman burst into tears as her teenage son stumbled up the ramp covered in mud and blood but alive. She threw her arms around him so hard he nearly lost balance.
Another man dropped his rifle completely when his younger brother emerged from the crowd limping beside two strangers.
People hugged.
Cried.
Collapsed into each other.
The kind of relief that only came after believing someone was already dead.
Even Ray's tense posture eased slightly as more survivors reached the upper roadway.
"…Didn't think we'd see half these people again," he muttered quietly.
Emily nodded silently.
Then movement near the back of the survivor group caught Harold's attention.
His expression shifted immediately.
Alexander emerged from the crowd calmly, his dark robe moving softly in the cold wind as his staff tapped once against the concrete.
Behind him—
Jane.
Mark.
And Tyler.
All three still wore the sigil armor Margaret and Devon had built for them, faint glowing lines pulsing softly across the reinforced plating. Their weapons remained lowered, though each of them still scanned the surrounding woods automatically out of habit.
Harold let out a slow breath.
"…Well I'll be damned."
Alexander's eyes lifted toward him.
A faint smile crossed the older man's face.
"Harold."
Harold stepped forward and offered his hand immediately.
"Good to see you still breathing, old man."
Alexander shook it firmly.
"Likewise."
Harold's eyes shifted toward the three teens standing behind him.
Jane folded her arms slightly.
Mark looked exhausted.
Tyler still looked wired from adrenaline.
Harold stared at them for a second before smirking faintly.
"…Huh."
Alexander raised an eyebrow knowingly.
Harold gestured vaguely toward the group behind him.
"So this what we're doing now?" he asked dryly. "Making new friends in the apocalypse?"
Jane snorted softly.
Tyler looked offended immediately.
"We almost died like six times getting here."
"Seven," Mark corrected tiredly.
Tyler pointed at him. "Right. Seven."
Harold blinked once.
Then looked back at Alexander flatly.
"…You picked up the loud ones, huh?"
That actually earned a tired laugh from several nearby convoy members.
Even Alexander's expression softened slightly.
Jane folded her arms tighter and raised an eyebrow at Harold.
"That's rich coming from you," she shot back immediately. "You're loud enough for the monsters to hear you three towns over."
A few nearby convoy members laughed quietly.
Harold gave a small tired chuckle.
"…Alright," he admitted. "Fair point."
Tyler looked genuinely relieved someone else said it first.
Then—
CLATTER.
A pistol suddenly hit the pavement nearby.
The sound cut through the moment instantly.
Everyone turned.
Emily stood frozen near the edge of the convoy trucks.
Her pistol lay forgotten at her feet.
Her eyes were locked entirely on Jane.
Wide.
Unbelieving.
"…J-Jane?…"
Her voice cracked hard on the name.
Jane froze too.
The sarcasm vanished from her face instantly.
Emily took one shaky step forward.
"…Jane?" she asked again, softer this time. "Is that.. really you?"
For a second—
Jane just stared.
Like she couldn't fully believe it either.
Then—
"…Emily?"
That was all it took.
Emily broke.
She rushed forward so fast she nearly slipped on the cracked pavement before throwing her arms around Jane and holding onto her like she was afraid she might disappear.
Jane stumbled slightly from the impact.
Emily was already crying.
Not quietly.
Full-body shaking sobs as she buried her face against Jane's shoulder, holding onto her so tightly it almost hurt.
Jane's arms wrapped around her immediately.
Instinctively.
Protectively.
Emily's breathing hitched hard as she tried to speak through the tears.
"It's been two weeks…" she choked out. "Two weeks of not knowing if you were alive or dead…"
Her voice cracked apart completely at the end.
Jane felt her knees nearly give out from the weight of it.
From hearing it said out loud.
Two weeks.
Emily shook against her, clutching the back of Jane's jacket like letting go might make her disappear again.
"I looked everywhere for you," she sobbed.
Jane held her tighter immediately.
Emily's words came apart between breaths, messy and emotional and impossible to stop now that they'd finally broken free.
"Ever since you went missing—I never stopped looking…"
Her fingers tightened against Jane's back.
Jane's throat tightened painfully.
Emily pulled back just enough to look at her through tear-filled eyes.
"When those things attacked the town a few days ago…" she whispered shakily, "everybody kept telling me to—to stop looking—but I couldn't…"
Her voice cracked again.
"I couldn't stop searching without knowing."
Jane's eyes immediately burned harder.
Emily shook her head quickly, tears streaming down her face.
"I kept thinking maybe you were trapped somewhere… or hurt… or hiding…"
A weak laugh escaped her through the sobbing.
"So I kept checking every stupid place you'd probably run toward instead of away from."
That actually pulled the smallest emotional huff of laughter from Jane.
"…That does sound like me."
Emily nodded rapidly.
"Exactly!" she cried. "Which made it worse!"
Jane finally laughed softly too despite herself, though tears were running down her face now as well.
Emily leaned forward again immediately, hugging her tightly once more.
"I thought I lost everyone," she whispered brokenly. "Mom… Dad… and then you…"
Jane closed her eyes hard at that.
Because she knew.
They both had already lost too much before any of this started.
And now the world itself had fallen apart around them.
But somehow—
Against every possibility—
They'd found each other again.
Jane rested her forehead gently against Emily's hair and whispered shakily—
"You still got me."
Emily broke into tears all over again at those words, clinging to her like a lifeline while the cold wind moved softly across the unfinished highway around them.