The highway north was a ribbon of cracked asphalt littered with abandoned cars. Cole weaved the truck between them, headlights slicing through the growing dark. Sophie had fallen asleep with her head in Emily's lap, the steady hum of the engine masking the occasional distant gunshot. Emily kept glancing at the fuel gauge.
"How far are we going?" she asked quietly. "Far enough," Cole said, eyes fixed ahead. "They've got roadblocks up by the interstate. Military's trying to keep the cities contained. Means fewer of those things wandering in from the south." Emily didn't miss the way he said trying. Eventually, Cole pulled into the cracked driveway of an old gas station. The place was half-collapsed, but the office still had a roof, and that was all they needed tonight. They dragged a dusty couch in front of the door and used it as a barricade. As Sophie curled up in a corner with her bunny, Emily took inventory of her backpack—water bottle, flashlight, granola bar wrapper... Her stomach dropped. The small folding knife she'd kept since the start was gone. She looked at Cole. He was sitting on the floor across the room, cleaning his rifle, his expression unreadable. "Lose something?" he asked without looking up. Emily's grip tightened on her bat. "Yeah. I did." Cole finally glanced at her, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "Then maybe you should keep a closer eye on it." Outside, a single moan echoed faintly in the distance, carried on the night wind. Emily didn't sleep at all.