They rode in a car marked with the logo.
Rey drove without talking, eyes fixed ahead. Cyborg sat in the passenger seat, relaxed but alert, Malcolm and Iyisha in the back while the other vehicles kept formation behind them.
After nearly an hour, Iyisha shifted again, eyes still scanning the road.
Cyborg noticed. He was watching her through the mirror, not staring, just tracking.
"You're waiting for something to move," he said, voice even, measured, the kind that carried without needing volume. "Most people do. When you've spent long enough seeing the dead everywhere, empty roads start to feel wrong instead of reassuring."
He looked forward as he continued. "This corridor runs close to the Indianapolis safe zone so the military is committed to holding it."
Iyisha leaned slightly toward the window. "So there's no undead out here."
"Not enough to be a problem," Cyborg said.
