The world outside the van had gone insane.
Dozens of hands pounded on the van's exterior, with their fingernails scraping through the paint. Different faces were pressing against the windows, leaving bloody smears.
Whatever humanity they'd had was gone. Their skin was beginning to peel and turn gray, their teeth were beginning to shatter, and they had bright, empty eyes. Suddenly, something slammed the roof hard enough to make the whole van jump. Each impact sent a jolt through the floor, and every time it happened, Isabella's chest tightened, as if the next hit would cave the van in.
Isabella pressed herself against the seat, flinching as shadows blocked out what little light was left. Every window was blocked with so many bodies closing in that the van felt smaller, making it harder for her to breathe.
Isabella then clutched Mateo and couldn't tell who was shaking worse. His sobs ripped in little hiccups against her chest. Her nerves were on edge while every little noise continued to jump at her. The van's creaking, the shoes scraping the pavement, and even the rough sound of her own breath and sobs were all too much. She couldn't tune any of it out.
"Isa," Mateo gasped. "They're still there."
"I know," she whispered. "Don't move. Just… stay down."
Her voice didn't even sound like her own. It was strange, almost as if she was hearing someone else talk.
As the creatures continued to strike at the van, Mateo asked: "Isa, are they gonna get in?"
She swallowed hard. "They can't. The glass is strong." She repeated it, quieter, hoping that if she said it enough, it might actually be true.
Inside, the air was thick with sweat and fear. So thick, she could almost taste it. Her eyes were burning from all of her crying, but she couldn't remember when she started.
As the siblings stayed silent and still, the noise outside started to fade. They felt the pounding slow, and then it stopped. After a few more hits, they felt their footsteps moving away. A scream echoed somewhere farther off, then another, even farther, until finally, the rocking eased.
Mateo dared to whisper, "You think they're gone?"
"Maybe." She didn't believe it, but saying it out loud felt better than admitting the truth.
They didn't move, just listened. The only sounds were the wind and the soft tick of the van cooling off. Somehow, the quiet felt even worse.
Without the chaos outside, Isabella's thoughts began to run wild, filling the empty space. Her brain buzzed, jumping from one unfinished thought to the next. Mom is dead. No. She's not. She can't be. Maybe she's hiding. Every time she pushed the image away, it came back sharper. The scream, the blood, and the sound. It sounded like paper tearing when the horde fell on her.
"Mom," she whispered before she could stop herself. Calling her felt like a knife stabbing her in her chest. Mateo overheard her and began to whimper again.
The parking lot lights kept flickering, casting weird shapes that crawled over the van. Light. Dark. Light. Every flash made shadows look like hands reaching for them.
Her gut clenched. She felt like she might throw up, but there was nothing left inside.
Isabella finally loosened her grip on Mateo and leaned forward towards the window, pressing her forehead against the cold, foggy glass. As she peered at the chaos beyond, she could make out bodies moving in the distance. Some were dragging themselves between cars, while others stood still, with their heads twitching. All of them were looking less human with every second. Her breath fogged up the surface, with her warmth disappearing right away. She traced a shaky line in the mist, but it blurred over again almost immediately.
As time passed through the night and the kids remained stuck in the powerless van, it grew cold, really cold. Mountain‑night kind of cold.
"Isa, I'm freezing," Mateo whispered, while his teeth were chattering.
"I know, baby. I know." The word baby had slipped out; she'd never called him that before. She rubbed his arms through the camo jacket, as if friction alone could fix him.
They had nothing. No blankets, no heater, and no Mom.
Her mind jumped from one panic to another. What if the gas leaks? What if the windows break? What if Mom—stop it. Stop thinking, stop.
She let out a shaky breath, then grabbed her own hair while pressing her fists against her temples with her fingertips digging into her scalp as if she could squeeze the thoughts out. Her hands then slid up into her hair, fists clenching tight, and she rocked slightly, pressing until little sparks filled her vision. The pressure was the only thing that made the noise in her head slow down, even for a second.
"Isa?" Mateo asked in a small voice. "Are we gonna die in here?"
The question broke her in half. "No. No, we're not."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm telling you," She snapped, harsher than she meant. Mateo flinched, but before he could even turn away, Isabella's voice softened. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Mat. … please, don't ask that again."
Mateo blinked, surprised. Isa never apologized, not for snapping, not for anything. He looked at her, really looked, and saw how tight her jaw was, how her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Maybe she didn't know the answer any more than he did. Maybe she was just as scared.
While the siblings remained in the van, hours or maybe minutes passed, and the lights outside kept flickering until half of them died. Darkness bled across the lot. With the dashboard dead, the only glow came from a far lamppost stuttering through the fog.
Isabella barely noticed how numb her fingers had become. Beside her, Mateo's breaths were short and fast, leaving tiny clouds that faded almost as soon as they appeared.
"Hey," she whispered. "You awake?"
He hummed something close to "mm‑hmm", but it sounded twisted, like he was stuck between sleep and waking.
She pressed her lips together. As if trying to swallow, but her mouth was dry and sour with nerves.
The van's walls creaked softly. The temperature kept dropping. Every breath through her nose burned with the air scraping down like cold smoke.
"Mateo, we gotta keep moving." She rubbed his hands, then blew warm air into his palms. "Don't go to sleep, okay? If you fall asleep, you'll get colder."
He didn't respond.
Her voice rose. "Mat? Hey." She shook him once, twice. "Mateo!"
His head rolled with the motion, and his eyes barely opened. His lips were tinted blue.
"Stop playing and wake up!!" she shouted. "Don't do this, okay? You're scaring me."
But he didn't react.
She then hit his cheek. "Cut it out, Mateo! Don't be stupid, get up!"
Still, he didn't move.
Cold panic flooded her chest. She shook him harder, with her words falling apart. "Stop playing and wake up! Please! Wake up!"
When he still didn't move, something in her snapped. Tears began to spill down her face as guilt crashed over her all at once.
"I'm sorry," she choked out, grabbing his face. "I'm sorry, "I swear I'll be nicer. Please, Mateo, wake up."
She whispered into the dark, her voice thin and shaking. "Please don't leave me too."
Her mind went wild. He's dying. He can't die. Mom's gone, you can't lose him too, that's not fair, please God please!
She rubbed his arms, trying to generate warmth. His tiny body stayed limp.
The silence roared so loud, her ears rang.
Then she did what she wasn't supposed to: she screamed his name.
"Mateo!"
Her voice cut through the night, sharp and desperate. "Mateo, wake up! Wake up!"
The words bounced off the empty cars and the walls, then vanished into the darkness.
For a split second, only the wind answered.
Then the sounds started up again.
The scraping, shuffling, and that awful, guttural cough-growl that she already hated.
"No," she whispered, her words lost in the cold air.
But the scraping grew louder and louder, accompanied by more footsteps and palms thudding against the van.
"Oh God, no," she muttered, pulling Mateo tight against her chest.
The first slam hit the side door, rocking them both. Another followed from the back. Fists and bones continued to hammer the van, with snarls and moans rising all around them.
The blurry faces returned and pressed up against the dirty glass window again. Blood and dirt continued to smear the view, so the outside became nothing but shifting shadows.
Isabella hid her face in Mateo's jacket. "Please," she breathed. "Please, just go away... please."
Her words broke apart into sobs.
She screamed Mateo's name one last time, with her voice cracking in the middle, but this time, there was no echo.
The sound was swallowed by the chorus of creatures pounding on the van.
She held Mateo tighter, who seemed almost lifeless against the freezing floor, with her cheek pressed against his cold hair, while her tears stung her face.
Confusion and panic continued to tighten her chest as she held him close. Outside, the wind howled, mixing with the pounding fists and rough growls of the horde pressing against the van, desperate to break in.