Justin didn't move.
Neither did Ethan.
They stood there in the open lot with propane tanks digging into their palms, the weight of them suddenly meaningless compared to what was unfolding in front of them.
The horde surged.
Not sprinting—not coordinated—but fast enough. Fast in the way inevitability was fast. Bodies slamming into one another. Feet scraping asphalt. Arms lifting, reaching, grasping. Mouths opening in wet, broken moans that layered into something thick and suffocating.
Justin's brain screamed run.
His body refused.
Because Mari was watching.
For half a second—maybe less—Justin's eyes flicked to the Jeep.
Mari was already looking at him.
They locked eyes through the windshield.
And in that instant, everything passed between them.
Fear.Love.The unspoken question—What do we do?
Mari's hands tightened on the wheel.
She didn't move.
She waited for him.
From the back seat, Tally exploded.
"GO!" she shrieked. "GO GET HIM—JUST GO!"
Her voice cut through the morning like a siren.
Heads turned.
Dead heads.
More movement rippled at the edges of the lot as shapes farther away reacted to the sound.
"SHUT UP!" Marcus yelled.
"STOP YELLING!" Renee screamed over him.
Dot shouted, "Girl, you're gonna kill us all!"
But Tally didn't hear them.
Or maybe she did—and didn't care.
"My brother's out there!" she screamed again, pounding the seat. "Mari, DRIVE! GO GET HIM!"
Mari's jaw clenched so tight it ached.
She didn't turn around.
She didn't respond.
Justin snapped back into motion.
"DROP IT!" he hissed at Ethan.
They let the propane tanks fall.
Metal hit asphalt with a hollow clang that echoed way too loud.
Justin didn't look back.
He turned and ran.
Ethan was right beside him, boots pounding concrete as they cut for the back of the store.
Behind them, the couple in the street finally realized what was coming.
The woman sobbed harder, her voice breaking apart as she stumbled again. The man tried to pull her, panic twisting his face, but she wrenched herself free.
"No," she cried. "No—go!"
He turned back to her. "I'm not leaving you!"
She shoved him with everything she had left.
"I'm already dead!" she screamed. "I'm bit! I'm bit—go!"
The first zombie reached them.
It lunged.
She threw herself between it and the man.
Teeth sank into her shoulder with a wet, tearing sound.
She screamed once—sharp, agonized—and then didn't scream again.
The man stared at her.
Just for a second.
Just long enough for that image to burn into him forever.
Then he ran.
Justin and Ethan were already at the back door.
Justin yanked it open and stumbled inside, breath tearing out of him in ragged gasps. Ethan was right behind him.
The door slammed shut.
Locked.
The pounding came immediately.
Not zombies.
Human fists.
"OPEN IT!" the man screamed. "PLEASE—OPEN IT!"
Justin spun back.
"Wait!" he shouted, fumbling with the lock.
The pounding was frantic now—panicked, desperate.
Behind it, the dead closed in.
Hands slapped metal.
Moans surged.
Justin ripped the door open just enough and dragged the man inside as claws scraped inches from his heels.
The door slammed shut again.
Justin locked it.
The sound of bodies hitting the outside rolled through the building like thunder.
Inside the Jeep, Tally was still screaming.
"WHY AREN'T WE MOVING?! GO! GO!"
Her voice cracked—high, hysterical, unstoppable.
More heads turned.
More bodies shifted toward the noise.
Renee snapped.
She unbuckled, twisted in her seat, and slapped Tally as hard as she could.
The sound was sharp.
Final.
Tally's head snapped to the side and she went limp instantly, collapsing against the seat.
Silence fell in the Jeep.
Everyone froze.
Renee stared at her hand like she didn't recognize it.
Then she said, shaking, "She was going to get us all killed."
No one argued.
Outside, the parking lot disappeared under bodies.
Zombies pressed in from every direction—front, sides, street, alley. Hands slapped glass. Teeth clacked. Faces mashed against windows, eyes rolling, mouths opening and closing like broken machines.
Inside the store, Justin slid down the door, chest heaving, eyes wild.
The man he'd dragged in collapsed to the floor sobbing, whispering apologies to someone who wasn't there anymore.
The gas pump kept running.
Unattended.
Overflowing.
Fuel spilled onto asphalt.
The Jeep sat surrounded.
The store was surrounded.
The dead moaned louder now—closer, hungrier.
And in that moment, with propane tanks abandoned, gas pouring freely, and fifty dead things clawing their way toward them—
Justin realized the truth with terrifying clarity.
They hadn't rung the dinner bell.
They'd detonated it.
And this was only the beginning.