Inside, three people stopped breathing.
Van sat frozen behind the wheel, eyes locked on the windshield. A face pressed against the glass--gray skin peeled back from black gums, teeth clicking in silent fury. More faces joined it, crushing inward, smearing the glass with putrid streaks.
Jane sat rigid, left hand clamped over her mouth, right hand leveling her revolver at the window. If the glass cracked, she'd put the first Rotter down at point-blank range.
In the back, Miranda hugged a wrench to her chest, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle tensed against the scream building in her throat.
Then, movement. The bodies on the hood slid off, drawn by something else--headlights in the distance, engines roaring. The refugees in their sedans had inadvertently signaled the horde. The mass of infected flowed away like a receding tide, chasing the easier prey.
Silence returned to the desert.
Van exhaled slowly, his shirt soaked through. Jane lowered her gun, trembling. Miranda unfurled slightly, still clutching the wrench.
"Are we safe?" The girl's voice was small.
"For now," Jane answered. She turned to study their new companion. "Who are you?"
The girl sat up, brushing dust from her overalls. "Miranda. I run the garage outside Hurley."
"Run it?" Jane's brow furrowed. "Not your family's?"
"I'm twenty. Town raised me." Miranda's voice carried no self-pity, only fact. "Parents took off when I was a baby. Folks taught me to read, taught me engines. Old mechanic retired, gave me the shop."
Van and Jane exchanged a look. A local. A survivor.
"Give her something," Van said quietly.
Jane handed back a self-heating meal packet. Miranda tore into it with the enthusiasm of the starving. "Is this... Chinese?"
Jane nodded, passing a water bottle. "What happened in Hurley? You escaped last night?"
Miranda drained the bottle in one go. "Two nights ago, a charter bus rolled in. Weird vibe--windows covered, curtains drawn. Didn't think much of it. Hurley's a hub; we see all types."
"Yesterday morning, a black SUV arrived. Lincoln Navigator. Pulled up beside the bus. Drivers talked, then the Navigator headed into town."
Van's jaw tightened. The USB drive he'd found--the one labeled Myer Materials--had come from that vehicle.
"You see who was inside?" Jane pressed.
"Nope. Tinted glass." Miranda shoveled rice into her mouth, burning her tongue. "Hot! Later that afternoon, the bus driver bought supplies. Sent the shopkeep to deliver them."
"He came back cursing. Said someone bit him for 'just a feel.' When the driver heard, he looked scared. Spoke into a radio. Then the bus left."
Miranda scraped the last grain from the packet. "Looking back? That bus was carrying cargo. Not people. Cargo that bites."
She set the empty container aside, looking up with bright, calculating eyes. "Hurley's gone. Bombed. I'm sticking with you."
"How do you know it was bombed?" Jane asked.
"The checkpoint. Last night, people fled south, screaming about beasts in the streets. I was in the garage--heard the chaos. Tried to run north, but the Guard had blocked the highway. Razor wire. Said it was a 'drill.'"
Miranda's voice hardened. "They pointed rifles at us. Said they'd shoot. We sat there for hours. Then jets flew over. Then the radio said Hurley had a 'gas main explosion.'" She laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "They erased our town. Then someone got bitten at the checkpoint. Then shooting started. Then I ran... and you found me."
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Van processed the intel. The overturned bus on Highway 10. The Navigator. The USB.
"Bioweapon," Jane whispered, horrified.
A sudden noise cut the air. A snuffling, scraping sound against the steel hull.
Jane pressed her ear to the wall. "Quiet. Something's outside."
SCRATCH.
A paw--muscular, fur matted with gore--slammed against Van's window. It was followed by a head the size of a tire, skin peeled back from a muzzle crammed with rows of needle teeth. The Mutated Hound's eyes, milky and mad, locked onto Van's.
It opened its jaws and screamed.
"Fuck!" Van jerked back, rifle clattering against the dash. The hound's jaws smashed against the glass, spiderwebbing the edge of the window.
"They smell us!" Van grabbed the wheel, eyes locked on the creature's frantic gaze. It wasn't just sniffing--it was hunting.
THUD!
Another hound hit the passenger window. Jane screamed.
"Go! They know we're in here!" Jane shouted.
Van twisted the key. The engine roared. Miranda tumbled into the cargo hold as the Express lurched forward, sand spraying.
"Hold on!" Van shouted.
Jane lunged back, grabbing Miranda and hauling her into a bear hug against the seat. "Brace!"
Van slammed the brakes. The Express slid twenty meters through the dunes, shedding velocity. The hounds on the windows were flung off, tumbling into the sand.
But three more were already in pursuit, loping alongside with terrifying speed.
"They're not like the Rotters!" Van floored the accelerator, aiming for two hounds ahead. They darted aside with predatory grace, avoiding the bumper by inches. "Too fast!"
"We can't outrun them in the sand!" Jane yelled.
"Grenade!" Van barked.
"Last one!" Jane fumbled the M67 from her pack.
"Use it! They track by scent!" Van checked the mirrors--the hounds were closing, tongues lolling, eyes fixed.
"I'll do it!" Miranda snatched the grenade from Jane, scrambling over the center console. "Window down!"
Van hit the switch. Hot desert air flooded the cabin. Miranda watched the rearview mirror, counting under her breath.
She yanked the pin. "One-thousand... one-thousand-two... one-thousand-three--"
She hurled it.
BOOM!
The shockwave rocked the Express. A fireball bloomed in the rearview, sand and meat spraying.
"Did we get them?" Jane asked, breathless.
Miranda stared into the mirror, her face going white. "No... no, no, no."
"What?!" Van checked the mirror. Two shapes were still running, undeterred, closing the gap.
"They jumped on it!" Miranda's voice was incredulous. "Three of them--they piled on the grenade! It blew them apart, but the other two... they just got knocked down. They're still coming!"
"Swap!" Jane shouted. She shoved Miranda toward the back, unslinging the AR-15. "Hold my belt!"
Miranda grabbed Jane's waistband as Jane leaned out the passenger window, the rifle kicking up to her shoulder. The truck bounced over a rut, nearly throwing her.
Van reached over, grabbing Jane's hip with his right hand, steadying her. Miranda held the other side.
The red dot settled on a hound's skull.
"Right! Hard right!" Jane screamed.
Van yanked the wheel. The Express slewed sideways.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
The hound's head vaporized.
[ EXP +20 ]
"One more! Right again!"
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
The second hound collapsed, tumbling into a cloud of dust.
[ EXP +20 ]
"Got him! Pull me in!" Jane tried to slide back inside.
Miranda hauled her back into the cabin. Jane landed hard in the passenger seat--directly on top of Van's right hand, which had been bracing her.
Time stopped.
Van felt the soft pressure through the fabric of her cargo pants. Jane froze, her face flushing crimson.
She slowly lifted herself, extracting his hand without a word. Van pulled back, clearing his throat.
"That was... close," Jane said, not looking at him.
"Yeah," Van agreed. "Close."
Miranda leaned against the cargo barrier, looking between them with a smirk. "You two aren't a couple?"
Van opened his mouth to deny it, but Jane said nothing. He closed his mouth.
"The way you work together?" Miranda shrugged. "Thought you'd been married for years."
Jane looked at Van. "Feels like we've lived a lifetime in two days."
"Truth," Van said.
"So, can I stay?" Miranda asked, eyeing a blue ammo can in the back. She popped it open--neat rows of 5.56 rounds. "You guys are stocked for the apocalypse. I'm good with numbers, good with guns, and I can fix this truck. You won't even know I'm here."
Van met Jane's eyes. She gave a slight nod--your call.
Van considered. Miranda had controlled the grenade perfectly. She'd held Jane steady during the firefight. She hadn't touched the weapons scattered in the back, even when she could have.
"Welcome aboard," Van said.
Miranda whooped. A chime rang in Van's mind.
[ PASSENGER MODULE UPDATED ] [ ACTIVE PASSENGERS: 2 ]
[ Caroline Jane ]
Comfort: 1 Standing: Trusted Stats: STR 5 | AGI 9 | PER 12 | END 6 | ART 1
[ Miranda ]
Comfort: 0 Standing: Neutral Stats: STR 6 | AGI 6 | MNT 10 | END 6 | ART 1
[ SPECIAL ATTRIBUTE DETECTED: MAINTENANCE ]
Passive reduction of mechanical wear. Requires 1 Attribute Point to activate.
"Head east," Miranda said, patting Van's seat. "I've got a stash in the desert. We're going to upgrade this beast."