Time stopped meaning anything inside the Jeep.
Minutes stretched until they felt like hours. Hours bled together until no one could say how long they'd been sitting there—bodies cramped, legs numb, backs aching, fear settling deep into muscles that never fully relaxed.
The air inside the Jeep was stale and sour, thick with sweat and gasoline fumes that seeped in through the doors no matter how tightly they stayed shut. Every breath tasted wrong. Every sound felt too loud, even the quiet ones—fabric shifting, someone swallowing, the soft click of cooling metal.
Outside, the world kept ending in pieces.
Far off, something exploded—deep and concussive—followed by a wave of distant screams. A car engine screamed past somewhere down the road, pushing fast and desperate, followed by a crash that echoed and then went abruptly silent. Car alarms wailed in overlapping pulses, shrill and relentless, drawing attention away from the gas station in uneven waves.
That was the only reason the parking lot slowly thinned.
One by one, clusters of zombies peeled away, heads snapping toward new noise, new movement, new prey. They staggered off in uneven lines, some breaking into short, jerky runs, others dragging feet that left dark streaks through spilled gasoline and blood.
By late afternoon light, only a few remained.
One or two.
Still feeding.
What was left of the woman—what had once been Janelle—was no longer recognizable as human.
Her body was flattened and scattered, pressed into the asphalt like roadkill. Clothes torn into rags. Flesh stripped down to bone in places, muscle shredded in others. Blood pooled dark and sticky beneath her, smeared outward by dragging hands and shuffling feet. One arm lay bent at an unnatural angle, fingers gone. Her face—if it was still there at all—was unrecognizable, reduced to meat and fragments.
A zombie crouched low over her torso, gnawing with methodical persistence, jaw clicking wetly. Another tugged uselessly at a strip of fabric caught beneath a tire, as if confused why it wouldn't come free.
No one in the Jeep could look for long.
Kenzie kept her face turned into the side of the trunk, arms locked around Lila, Barbie still zipped tight against her chest. Lila's eyes stayed shut, lashes wet, breathing shallow and uneven.
Renee stared straight ahead, unmoving, lips pressed together so tightly they'd gone pale. Dot whispered prayers under her breath—some biblical, some profane, all desperate.
Marcus sat rigid, elbows braced on his knees, gaze fixed somewhere past the windshield, jaw clenched like he was holding back words that would never help.
And then Tally stirred.
It started with a groan—low, confused.
Mari stiffened instantly.
Tally shifted on the floor between the seats, brow furrowing, lips parting as she sucked in a shaky breath. Her head rolled slightly, hair sticking to her cheek with dried sweat and blood.
"Justin?" she murmured.
Every muscle in the Jeep went tight.
"Shh," Renee whispered urgently. "Shh—don't—"
Tally groaned again, louder this time. "My head…"
Mari leaned down, hand hovering over Tally's shoulder but not touching. "Tally. Quiet. You need to be quiet."
Tally's eyes fluttered open, unfocused, pupils sluggish as they tried to adjust. She blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, confusion pulling her features tight.
"Where… where am I?" she slurred. "Why am I on the floor?"
No one answered fast enough.
"What's going on?" Tally pushed, voice rising. "Where's my brother?"
Dot hissed sharply, finger to her lips. "Child—"
Tally tried to sit up.
Marcus reached down and pressed a hand against her shoulder, firm but careful. "Don't move."
Tally slapped at his hand weakly. "Get off me! What the hell—"
Mari leaned down, eyes fierce, voice barely above breath. "Tally. If you raise your voice, I swear to God we will knock you out again."
Tally froze.
Slowly, her gaze slid to the windows.
She saw them then.
The bodies. The blood. The zombies still hunched over what remained of the woman in the lot.
Her mouth fell open.
Someone behind her whispered, "You want them back here? Because that's how you get them back here."
Tally swallowed hard.
Her breathing went shallow.
"What… what happened?" she whispered, then frowned, a spark of anger breaking through the fog. "Why does my face hurt?"
Renee didn't sugarcoat it. "You got slapped."
Tally's head snapped toward her. "Who?"
No one answered.
"Who hit me?" Tally demanded, louder.
Marcus leaned closer, eyes cold. "Lower your voice. Now."
Tally's gaze flicked around the Jeep, searching faces, reading silence. Her eyes landed on Mari, and something ugly twisted in her expression.
"You," Tally hissed. "It was you."
Mari didn't deny it.
She didn't confirm it either.
She just said, flat and quiet, "If you keep talking, you'll get hit again."
Tally's lips trembled with rage. "You bitch."
Kenzie sucked in a sharp breath from the back.
Renee leaned in close to Tally's ear. "Listen to me. Your brother is alive. He made it back into the store."
Tally's eyes snapped back to her. "What?"
Dot pointed toward the front window with her cane. "See that?"
Taped low against the glass, half-hidden by smeared handprints, was a scrap of cardboard with thick, shaky letters scrawled across it.
STAY PUTHANG TIGHT
Tally stared at it.
Her chest tightened.
That's what Justin always said.
Hang tight.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
For the first time since she woke up, she didn't argue.
She didn't scream.
She scooted slightly, adjusting herself on the floor, careful now, slower. She curled onto her side, knees bent, jaw set.
"Do we have a plan?" she asked after a moment, voice quieter but edged with irritation. "Or are we just sitting here all day?"
Mari answered honestly. "Right now? There is no plan."
Tally scoffed softly, but it lacked heat. She looked back at the sign in the window.
"Hang tight," she murmured, almost to herself.
Her lips curved into a small, private smile.
She settled back against the floor and closed her eyes again—not to sleep, but to wait.
Inside the store, time dragged differently.
Justin paced the narrow aisle between empty shelves, running a hand through his hair over and over until his scalp burned. He stopped, turned, paced back the other way.
Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes tracking Justin's movements without comment.
Caleb slept in the corner.
Curled in on himself, back against the wall, knees drawn up, hands tucked beneath his chin like a child. His breathing was slow and even, face slack with exhaustion.
Justin stopped short and stared at him.
"How can he sleep?" Justin muttered. "After all that?"
Ethan glanced over. "Shock."
Justin frowned. "Shock?"
"Trauma response," Ethan said quietly. "His mind hit overload. Body shut down to survive it."
Justin swallowed and looked back at Caleb, guilt pricking sharp and unwanted.
Outside, another explosion boomed—closer this time. The building shuddered slightly, dust drifting down from the ceiling.
A chorus of car alarms erupted somewhere to the east.
Ethan straightened. "That'll pull some of them away."
Justin moved to the window, careful to stay low. He peered through a narrow gap between shelves.
The parking lot looked different now.
Still dangerous—but not a sea anymore.
Zombies wandered in loose clusters, spread out, some drifting toward the noise, others lingering near the body, others standing still like they'd forgotten what they were doing.
The Jeep sat in the middle of it all, streaked with dried gasoline, doors closed tight.
Mari's silhouette was visible through the windshield.
Justin's chest tightened painfully.
"This is taking too long," he whispered.
Ethan didn't argue.
Justin clenched his fists. "Every minute we're here is another minute Ella Belle is alone."
Ethan looked at him carefully. "You rushing won't help her."
Justin turned, eyes burning. "Sitting here won't either."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything neither of them said.
Outside, the world kept breaking.
Inside, time kept slipping.
And somewhere across the city, a six-year-old girl was still missing—while her brother counted seconds that felt like knives.