We waited in the dark parking lot, the flickering motel sign painting the hood in pale, stuttering light. Ava held me close as we sat in silence, the rain softening to a whisper against the windshield. The world outside felt heavy, like the storm had drained all color from it.
A few minutes passed. Then, faintly, I heard something. A noise, low and distant. I couldn't tell what it was exactly, but it made me tense. My sharpened senses told me it wasn't the undead, yet I couldn't shake the worry that something might have gone wrong.
Before my thoughts could spiral, I heard faint footsteps through the fog. My muscles tensed as I turned toward the sound, but then I saw them. My father and Matthew emerged from the mist, and behind them walked a young man, no older than twenty.
"Ava, Max," my father called. "You can come out — it's safe."
I hesitated, eyes fixed on the stranger, until I saw the calm in my father's face. Only then did I open the door.
"This is Rohan Patel," my father said. "He's the son of this motel's owner."
He gestured toward us. "Rohan, this is my son, Max," he added, resting a hand on my shoulder.
Rohan's eyes widened for a moment when he saw me, then quickly darted away.
"And this is my sister-in-law, Ava," my father continued.
"Nice to meet you, Max," Rohan said politely, reaching out to shake my hand. His grip was hesitant but friendly. Then he turned to Ava, offering his hand, but she didn't take it; the wariness in her eyes said enough. The moment hung awkwardly in the air.
"Alright," Uncle Matthew broke the silence. "Let's not stand around out here. Let's get inside."
We followed them into the motel. The hallways were narrow and dim, the air thick with mildew and dust. Most of the doors were broken, some hanging loose, others splintered and stained with old blood. Shattered windows let in gusts of damp wind.
Finally, we reached the upper floor, where a few rooms looked untouched. My father opened one of them. I glanced inside, but then froze.
From the next room, I heard something, faint movement, soft breathing. Human.
Without thinking, I drew my handgun and aimed it toward the sound that was coming from the door. Everyone stopped, startled by the sudden movement.
"Whoever's in there, come out!" I shouted. "Or I'll shoot!"
My hands shook, but I kept the barrel steady. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I wouldn't let anything hurt my family either.
"Please...Don't hurt me, I'll do it...Please!" a voice cried out.
The door creaked open, and a young girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, stepped out slowly, her hands trembling. Fear was written all over her face. Her hair was tangled, and her clothes were torn and dirty.
"Wait, kid! It's okay," Rohan said quickly, moving between us. "She's not a threat — she's my sister, Anika."
I lowered my weapon, realizing she was unarmed.
"You didn't mention anyone else being here," Matthew said, narrowing his eyes. "Why did you lie?"
"I wasn't lying," Rohan said quickly. "I just didn't want to risk her safety. You know how dangerous it is out here. I was going to tell you, I just needed to make sure you were who you said you were."
My father studied Rohan's face for a moment, then nodded slightly. "It's alright. They're just kids. And Max — good work," he said, glancing at me with faint pride.
I couldn't help but smile a little at the compliment, though I noticed Ava watching me quietly, her expression thoughtful.
"Anything else you're hiding?" Matthew asked, still suspicious.
"N-no, nothing," Rohan stammered. His sister hid behind the door, peeking out nervously mostly at me with fear in her eyes. Something about the way she looked at me felt… strange.
"I hope so," Matthew muttered, glancing down the hallway.
My father sighed. "We're all exhausted. Let's rest and talk about it tomorrow."
Matthew nodded, and Rohan guided his sister back to their room. We took the one next door.
Inside, my father flipped the light switch. To my surprise, it worked, the bulb flickered to life, bathing the room in a dull yellow glow.
The room was small but decent: one bed, an old sofa, and a bathroom door slightly ajar. The air smelled faintly of burned cigarettes and cleaning chemicals, but it was heaven compared to the car.
"Ava, Max — you two take the bed. We'll manage with the sofa," my father said.
I nodded, too tired to argue.
"There's running water," Matthew said, checking the bathroom. "Go wash up — especially you, Max."
I looked down at myself and grimaced. Dried blood all over my body, sweat, grime, I was a mess. No wonder that girl had looked so nervous when she saw me. Even her brother had been startled.
"Honey, there's really running water?" Ava asked, her voice lighting up with sudden joy.
"Yes," Matthew smiled. "Even hot water."
Ava's eyes widened, and she almost laughed. "This is wonderful — truly wonderful! I can finally take a bath."
Her smile was contagious. In this world, something as simple as running water felt like a miracle.
Then she turned to me, still smiling. "Little Max, you go first. You need it more than I do."
I wanted to argue, but she was right.
As I stepped toward the bathroom, Ava's tone suddenly changed — sharp, commanding. "Wait."
I turned back. "Is there a problem, Mom?"
She extended her hand. "Hand it over."
I frowned, not understanding at first. "Hand what over?"
"The gun," she said firmly. "It's not safe for a child to have it."
Her voice left no room for argument. Reluctantly, I handed the pistol to her.
"Good," she said softly, passing it to Matthew. "Now you can go."
I nodded and stepped inside the bathroom. The sound of rushing water filled the air, and for the first time, I truly appreciated the warmth of the shower. I felt clean again, human again.
By the time I came out, Ava was ready to go in next. Seeing me emerge, she hurried inside, humming softly to herself.
"Max, put these on," my father said, tossing me a T-shirt and a pair of pants they'd found.
I caught them, blinking. "Uh... is there a room where I can change?"
"What are you talking about?" My father said, raising a brow. "It's the middle of the night, and there's barely room for us to sleep, and now you want a separate place just to change? Just do it here." My face burned. How was I supposed to do that with two grown men watching?
Matthew chuckled. "Ha! Our little Max is embarrassed. Don't be — I used to change your diapers, kid. There's nothing I haven't seen."
They both laughed while I stood frozen and mortified.
Finally, my father took a pity. "Alright, alright — we'll turn around. Just be quick."
They faced the corner, still chuckling, while I hurriedly pulled on the clean clothes. My face felt like it was on fire.
As I finished, I heard them still laughing quietly to themselves.
This was… very embarrassing. But after everything we'd been through tonight, if a little embarrassment on my part could make them laugh, then it was worth the price.