Stay alive.
For what, in this shitty world, I didn't know. Some days, I felt like Lily got the better end of the deal. Dead was simple. Dead was quiet.
Get Eli back to his people.
When did this kid's mission start outranking mine?
Find my family's cabin. And disappear from humanity for whatever time I've got left.
Simple. Clean. Mostly impossible.
We kept walking. The horizon was a smear of gray and rust, the kind of dawn that looked like a bruise healing wrong. The road stretched ahead in cracked lines, weeds clawing through what used to be civilization.
Eli trudged beside me, small legs struggling to keep up. I had to remind myself—eight, not eighteen. The kid wasn't built for this. His steps were too light, his shoes too thin, and his breath too loud. Every few miles, I slowed down and told myself it was a strategy. Truth was, he couldn't move faster if he tried.
We stuck to the road because it was easier for him than trudging through the brush. I hated it—it left us exposed—but for now, cover wasn't worth the cost of his scraped knees and exhaustion.
"Keep up," I said, not unkindly.
He nodded, wiping sweat and dirt from his face. "You walk really fast."
"I walk alive," I muttered.
He didn't ask what that meant. Probably smarter than most adults I'd known.
The quiet stretched, heavy but weirdly peaceful. Then, somewhere in the distance, I heard it—a low hum, faint at first. My chest tightened.
Engines.
A truck.
"Shit."
I grabbed Eli's arm before he could even ask what was wrong and shoved him hard off the road into the ditch. We tumbled into tall grass and hit the dirt. He made a sharp sound, half pain, half surprised.
"Down," I hissed. "And keep your mouth shut."
His breath came in quickly, panicked bursts. I could feel the tremors running through him. I put my arm across his back, pressing him closer to the ground. His heart was hammering fast enough to make my own chest ache.
"I got you," I whispered. "Shh. Don't move."
The hum grew louder—rumbling now. Old diesel. Maybe military. Maybe scavengers. Maybe worse.
Through the weeds, I could see the road shimmer in the heat rising off the asphalt. The truck came into view—a hulking, patchwork beast of metal and rust, its front bumper armored with jagged steel, its sides painted with black spray symbols I didn't recognize.
Two more trucks followed, smaller, faster. The convoy moved like a hunting pack.
Men with rifles stood in the back, eyes scanning the fields. One of them held binoculars, sweeping the landscape like he knew we were there.
I held my breath.
The trucks slowed as they passed, tires crunching gravel, engines growling low. I could smell the exhaust, feel the vibration through the dirt.
Eli's fingers clutched at my sleeve. I pressed his hand down gently, keeping him still. "Don't," I breathed, barely a sound.
One of the trucks stopped completely, maybe fifty yards ahead. A man jumped down, his boots hitting the road hard. He wore mismatched body armor and a bandana around his neck. He scanned the area, hand on his weapon.
My stomach twisted if he looked left, if he caught a flash of movement.
"Please," Eli mouthed, eyes huge.
The man turned, spat into the ditch on the opposite side of the road, then slapped the side of the truck. It revved and moved on. The others followed, engines fading into the distance until the only thing left was the ringing in my ears.
We stayed down another minute, just breathing.
Then I exhaled. "Okay. Up."
Eli sat up slowly, face pale. His small hand rubbed at his ribs where I'd shoved him. "You almost broke me."
"Better a bruise than a bullet," I said.
He didn't argue.
We climbed out of the ditch, both covered in dirt and crushed weeds. The smell of exhaust still hung heavy in the air.
"Who were they?" he asked.
"You tell me. Did they look like the soldiers you remember at the bunker?
He shook his head. " I would have never trusted those guys."
"I guess then they are people we don't ever want to meet." I checked the horizon, but I was still uneasy. "And they're probably headed somewhere near your camp. Which means we take the long way around."
He didn't ask how long. He didn't complain. He just nodded, quiet again.
We walked another mile before I let us stop. The sun was rising higher now, throwing light through the clouds. I pulled a piece of jerky from my pocket and handed it to him. He chewed it slowly, still staring down the road like the trucks might roll back any minute.
"Why'd you save me?" he asked after a while.
I didn't answer right away. I could feel Lily's heartbeat—hers, not mine—steady, controlled, calm. But the words in my head weren't calm at all.
"Because you're a kid," I said finally. "And kids aren't supposed to die like the rest of us."
He looked up at me, frowning. "But everyone dies."
"Yeah," I said. "But not yet."
He nodded, as if that made sense, and went back to chewing.
I took a long pull from the canteen. The water was warm now, metallic and bitter, but it kept me alive. I checked the compass—east, always east. The radio tower camp couldn't be more than another day or two if we didn't run into more trouble.
Trouble.
Right. Like I ever get that lucky.
I glanced down at the kid again. He'd curled up beside his pack, half-dozing in the sun. Something about the sight got under my skin. Vulnerability. Hope. All the things I'd given up.
"Damn it, Eli," I muttered. "You'd better be worth this."
The wind shifted. Somewhere far off, a gunshot echoed. Then another. Then silence.
I stood, scanning the tree line. The world was always moving—always hunting something. And if we didn't move soon, we'd end up hunted again.
"Up," I said, nudging him with my boot. "Break's over. We've got ground to cover before dark."
He yawned, slinging his tiny pack over his shoulder. "Are we close?"
"Closer than we were."
That seemed good enough for him.
We started walking again, two survivors trudging down a dead road—one half-alive in the wrong body, one too young to understand what survival costs.
I didn't know where this road would end, but I knew one thing for sure: staying alive wasn't enough anymore.
Now I had a mission.
And whether it killed me or saved me didn't really matter.