The Suburban rolled south, the hum of the Duramax the only sound inside the cab. No one had spoken in an hour. The weight of everything, the ambush, the near-death, the loss of the camper, pressed down on them like a physical thing.
Ashley sat in the passenger seat, her torn clothes replaced with fresh ones from the supplies Marcus had given them. Jeans that fit okay, a flannel shirt that didn't, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but Jimmy could tell she wasn't really seeing it. She was somewhere else, replaying the last twenty-four hours in her head.
In the back, Nick had his injured ankle propped up on a bag of supplies, his shotgun across his lap. He'd been quiet since they left Marcus, his jaw tight with pain he was trying to hide. Jenna sat beside him, her bandaged shoulder making her hold herself stiffly. She kept glancing at the empty space where the camper used to be, her expression hollow.
"We need to find someplace to stop soon," Jenna said, her voice rough. "We're almost out of water. Like, maybe a few hours left."
Jimmy glanced at the gauge on the dashboard. The temperature was climbing and they'd been driving for hours without a break. "There's a state park about twenty miles from here. Campgrounds. Should have a pump we can use."
"And if they don't?" Nick asked.
"Then we keep moving. But we need water."
Ashley nodded. "Jenna's right. We can't go much longer without it."
The state park was empty. Not just empty of people. Empty of everything. No cars, no bodies, no sign that anyone had been here since the outbreak started. The campground sat tucked away in a grove of pines, a dozen sites with fire pits and picnic tables, all of them deserted.
Jimmy pulled the Suburban into the most secluded spot, backed it against a thick stand of trees so they could only be approached from one direction. He killed the engine and they sat in the sudden silence, listening.
Nothing. Just the wind and the birds and the distant sound of a creek somewhere nearby.
"This'll work," he said.
They set up camp quickly, efficiently. The way people do when they've learned that safety is never guaranteed. Nick gathered firewood despite his limp. Jenna found the campground's water pump and worked the handle until clean water flowed. Ashley sorted through supplies, taking inventory of what they had left.
Jimmy stood apart for a moment, watching them. Three people who'd become his family. Nick, limping but still moving, still fighting. Jenna, wounded but alive, her face set in determined lines. Ashley, the woman he loved, the one constant in a universe of chaos.
He thought about what Marcus had said. About a soldier named Graves. About how much they looked alike.
It was strange. That was all. Just a strange coincidence.
He shook it off and went to help with the fire.
Dinner was canned soup and stale crackers, eaten around a small fire that barely put out enough heat to warm their hands. The night had turned cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and reminded you that winter was coming.
"He was a good man," Jenna said quietly. "Marcus. He didn't have to help us."
"He lost his family," Nick said. "I think helping us made him feel... I don't know. Like he was doing something."
Ashley nodded. "Sometimes that's all you can do. Just keep moving, keep helping, keep trying."
They sat in silence for a while, watching the flames dance. Then Jenna spoke again.
"What he said to you, Jimmy. About knowing someone who looked like you. That was weird, right?"
Jimmy shrugged. "People look alive. It happens."
"Yeah, but the same last name? That's a hell of a coincidence."
"Coincidences happen." His voice was flat, dismissive. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to give it weight.
Ashley glanced at him but said nothing.
Later, after Nick had taken first watch and Jenna had curled up in the back of the Suburban, Ashley sat with Jimmy by the dying fire. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, watching the embers glow.
"You're thinking about it," she said. "What Marcus said."
"Just thinking about how weird the world is." He pulled her closer. "How many coincidences it takes to keep people alive."
She looked up at him. "You think it was a coincidence?"
"I don't know what I think." He kissed the top of her head. "But I know I'm tired. And I know you're here. And right now, that's enough."
She smiled, a small tired smile. "Yeah. It is."
They sat like that for a long time, holding onto each other, holding onto the only thing they were sure of in a world that had taken everything else.
The next morning, they woke to gray skies and the smell of rain. Jimmy was on his feet before anyone else, checking the perimeter, scanning the tree line, making sure they were still alone.
They were.
Nick made coffee from the supplies, and they ate another meager breakfast in silence. Jenna's shoulder seemed better. She could move it more freely, and the color had returned to her face. Nick's ankle was still swollen, but he could put weight on it now.
Jimmy spread the map across the Suburban's hood. "We're close. Maybe a hundred miles to the Florida line. On a normal day, that's nothing. A couple hours."
"But?" Ashley asked.
"But nothing's normal anymore." He pointed at the route. "We've got to cross the St. Mary's River. Only two bridges in this area. If either one is blocked or crowded with those things, we're going to have to find another way."
"And if both are blocked?" Nick asked.
"Then we get creative." Jimmy folded the map. "The point is, we could be there by tonight. Or we could be stuck here for days. Depends on what we find."
Jenna let out a long breath. "So we just... go see?"
"Yeah." Jimmy met her eyes. "We go see."
They loaded into the Suburban, checked the water supply. It was full now, thanks to the campground pump, and they pulled back onto the road.
The road stretched ahead, shorter than it had ever felt, but also more dangerous.
One hundred miles. One hundred miles between them and safety. Or one hundred miles of hell.