Samir's foot hit the brake.
The sedan jerked to a stop, throwing everyone forward against their seatbelts. Behind them, the truck's brakes squealed as it came to an abrupt halt.
"No," Samir whispered. His voice was barely audible. "No, no, no—"
Arjun leaned forward between the front seats to see what had made him stop.
His breath caught.
The street ahead was packed with infected. Not dozens. Not even hundreds. Thousands of them. A solid wall of bodies stretching from one side of the road to the other, filling every inch of space between the buildings. The mass extended as far as he could see, disappearing into the smoke haze in the distance.
Some shambled slowly, bumping into each other like sleepwalkers. Some stood perfectly still, heads tilted at odd angles. Some swayed in place like they were listening to music only they could hear.
Between them and Nisha's apartment building lay two kilometers of death.
"We can't get through that," Vikram said. His voice was flat. Stating the obvious because someone had to.
"There has to be another way," Samir said. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had gone white. "A side street. An alley. Something."
"Look at them." Taj's voice was quiet. Almost reverent in its horror. "They're everywhere. Every street. Every intersection. It's not just a horde. It's a blanket. They're covering everything."
Samir stared at the mass of infected. His jaw worked. His breathing came faster.
"We could go on foot," he said suddenly, already reaching for the door handle. "Leave the cars. Move building to building. Use the rooftops. I can—"
"With a child?" Reyan cut him off. His voice was sharp. "Through that? We wouldn't make it ten meters."
"Then I go alone."
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
"She's my sister," Samir continued. His voice cracked on the last word. "I have to try. I can't just—"
"No."
The word came from multiple directions at once. Reyan. Vikram. Taj. Even Arjun, who barely knew these people, found himself shaking his head.
"Samir, listen—" Reyan started.
"You don't understand!" Samir spun in his seat. There were tears on his face now, cutting tracks through the dirt and dried blood. "She's two kilometers away. Two. I'm so close. After everything we've been through, I can't just turn around. I can't leave her."
"What if she's not there?" Taj leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "What if she got out? What if she made it to one of those safe zones? If you die trying to reach her, you'll never know."
"And if she's there waiting and I don't come—" Samir's voice broke completely. "She'll die alone thinking I abandoned her."
"She might already be—" Vikram started, then caught himself. Stopped. Started over. "We need a plan. A real one. Not a suicide run."
"My sister is not dead," Samir said flatly.
"I didn't say that. I said we need to think this through. We need to—"
"We need to what?" Samir's voice rose. "Wait? Hide? Hope she magically appears? She's right there!"
Reyan threw his door open with enough force to make it bounce on its hinges. He slammed his fist on the roof, the sound like a gunshot.
"EVERYONE STOP!"
The argument died.
Reyan pointed at the truck behind them. "I'm going to talk to Karan. We need a plan. A real one. Everyone stay here."
He walked toward the truck, shoulders tight with tension.
Karan was already out, standing beside the driver's door. His eyes were locked on the distant horde.
"We need to talk," Reyan said.
Karan didn't look at him. Didn't take his eyes off the mass of infected. "About what? That?" He gestured at the horde. "There's nothing to talk about. We can't go through that. We'd die. Simple as that."
"I know, but—"
A scream cut through the air.
Not human. Worse than human. High-pitched. Piercing. The sound of something that had learned to use its voice as a weapon.
A screamer. Somewhere to their right. It had spotted them.
Meera moved before anyone else could react. Her rifle came up smooth and fast. The shot cracked across the afternoon.
The screamer's head snapped back in a spray of black blood. It dropped.
But the damage was done.
The horde was turning. Slowly at first. Then faster. Heads swiveling. Bodies shifting. Thousands of pairs of dead eyes looking in their direction.
"Shit," Karan breathed.
He grabbed Reyan's shoulder and spun him around. "Car. Now. GO!"
"But we need to—"
"We need to NOT DIE!" Karan shoved him toward the sedan. "Move! Dev, reverse! NOW!"
Reyan ran.
His daughter's face appeared in the window, pale and scared. He yanked the door open and dove into the passenger seat.
"Samir, reverse! Go, go, GO!"
Samir didn't need to be told twice. His foot hit the gas and the car shot backward, engine screaming. The truck followed, tires squealing as Dev threw it into reverse.
The horde surged forward like a wave.
Samir spun the wheel. The car whipped around in a perfect bootlegger's turn that would have been impressive under any other circumstances. He slammed it into drive and gunned the engine.
They shot forward. Away from the horde. Away from Nisha's building. Away from the only reason they'd come this far.
In the driver's seat, Samir's face was carved from stone. His jaw was clenched so tight Arjun could see the muscles jumping. His eyes were locked on the road ahead, not blinking, not moving.
A sound escaped his throat. Somewhere between a sob and a scream. Raw. Broken.
No one said anything.
No one looked at him.
They just drove.
EVENING
The convoy raced through empty streets, putting distance between themselves and the horde. Buildings blurred past. Smoke hung in the air like fog.
"Where are we going?" Vikram asked quietly.
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
The plan had been simple. Find Samir's sister. Get everyone to safety. Get out of the city.
But that plan was dead now. Dead like everything else in Niraya.
Samir drove mechanically. Turn. Accelerate. Brake. Turn again. His movements were precise but empty. Like a machine going through motions.
Reyan's daughter had gone completely still in his lap. She stared out the window at the burning city, clutching her rabbit so tight her knuckles were white.
"Samir," Reyan said finally. His voice was gentle. Careful. "We need to find somewhere to regroup. Figure out our next move."
Samir didn't respond. Didn't acknowledge that he'd heard.
"Samir—"
"I heard you."
The words were clipped. Final.
They drove in silence for another few minutes. The truck stayed close behind them, following their lead because there was no other option.
He turned the wheel.
Toward something. Anything.
Because going nowhere was the same as giving up.
And they weren't ready to give up yet.
Not quite yet.