The horn cut through the store like a blade.
Not loud—violent.
A sustained, screaming blast that bounced off concrete and glass and metal shelving, reverberating through the hollow space until it felt like it was vibrating inside Justin's skull. It wasn't just noise. It was announcement. A flare fired straight into the sky.
Justin froze mid-step.
For a fraction of a second, his brain refused to translate what his ears had just told him. There were a thousand sounds he'd been listening for—screams, gunshots, shattering glass, the low, wet moan of the dead—but not that.
Not the horn.
Then understanding hit him like a punch to the throat.
"No," he breathed.
Ethan was already moving.
"Fuck," he said flatly, turning toward the front of the store, every muscle in his body coiling tight. "That's the Jeep."
Justin didn't answer. He was already running.
Not sprinting—not yet—but moving fast and controlled, boots striking tile in long strides as he cut through overturned displays and scattered debris toward the front windows. His heart hammered so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs open.
Caleb jerked awake at the sound.
He'd been curled in the corner of the back room, sleep dragged out of him like a bad joke. His eyes flew open, wild and confused, breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
"What—what was that?" he gasped.
Justin didn't slow down. "Stay here."
The words came out sharper than he meant them to, edged with fear he didn't have time to soften.
Caleb scrambled to his feet anyway, legs shaking as he followed several steps behind, dread crawling up his spine. He knew that sound. He knew what noise did now.
Noise meant movement.
Noise meant them.
Ethan reached the front window first, crouching low beneath the glass, peering out through the narrow gap between a shelf and the window frame.
What he saw made his stomach drop.
"Oh shit," he whispered.
Justin slid in beside him, heart in his throat, and looked.
The parking lot had erupted.
Where there had been thinning—space, wandering bodies drifting away—there was now chaos folding back in on itself. Zombies were pouring toward the Jeep from every direction, pulled by the horn like moths to flame. They stumbled, collided, tripped over one another, clawing their way forward with renewed urgency.
Hands slammed against the Jeep's sides.
Bodies crowded the doors.
The vehicle rocked under the weight of them.
Justin's breath stuttered.
Mari.
Tally.
Kenzie. Lila. Dot. Renee. Marcus.
They were all in there.
"They hit the horn," Ethan said quietly, disbelief threading through his voice. "Jesus Christ…"
Justin's jaw locked so hard it hurt.
He scanned desperately, eyes darting over the lot, over the writhing mass of bodies, searching for movement inside the Jeep—any sign.
Through the tinted windows, he caught flashes. A pale hand gripping a seat. A shape ducking low. The faintest movement in the trunk area.
They were alive.
For now.
The horn finally cut off.
But the damage was done.
"It's too late," Ethan said. "They're locked on."
Justin swallowed, throat raw. "They're high off the ground. Doors are locked. Windows are tinted."
"Tint won't matter if they see movement," Ethan replied. "Or smell blood."
Justin's gaze snapped back to the pavement beneath the Jeep.
Gasoline.
Even from inside the store, he could see the darkened sheen where it had pooled earlier, glistening faintly in the sunlight. It wasn't pouring anymore, but it didn't need to be. The smell had soaked into everything—concrete, shoes, skin.
"One spark," Ethan murmured. "That's all it takes."
Justin's hands curled into fists.
Caleb reached them then, breath hitching as he looked out the window.
The sight hit him like a physical blow.
His knees nearly buckled.
"Oh God," he whispered.
He saw the Jeep, surrounded. Saw the dead pressed up against it, fingers scraping glass. And then—his eyes snagged on something else.
On the ground.
Near the edge of the lot.
What was left of Janelle.
His vision tunneled.
The bodies covering her shifted and pulled, tearing and chewing with methodical hunger. What had once been her clothes were now just scraps clinging to ruined flesh. Bone gleamed white where muscle had been stripped away. Blood soaked the pavement beneath her in thick, dark puddles.
She didn't look human anymore.
She looked like roadkill.
Caleb made a sound—low and broken—that scraped out of his chest before he could stop it. He staggered back, pressing a hand to his mouth, bile rising hard and fast.
Ethan caught his arm before he could fall. "Hey. Don't look."
Caleb shook violently, tears streaming down his face. "She fought," he choked. "She fought them. She—she made them stop chasing me."
Justin turned away from the window, chest tight, anger and grief twisting together inside him until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
"This is my fault," he said hoarsely.
Ethan shot him a look. "No."
"I told them to stay put," Justin said. "I told them—"
"You couldn't control what happened," Ethan cut in. "Someone hit the horn. That's on them."
Justin flinched.
He knew exactly who had hit the horn.
Caleb dragged a hand down his face, trying to pull himself together. "They're trapped," he said, voice shaking. "What are we gonna do?"
Justin forced himself to think.
Not panic. Not rage.
Think.
The Jeep was surrounded, but not crushed. The dead were focused on sound and movement. If they stayed still, stayed quiet—
But they couldn't stay there forever.
Justin glanced at Ethan's arm.
The fresh bandage beneath his sleeve.
"You good?" Justin asked quietly.
Ethan nodded, though his expression was tight. "Scratches. Inflamed. Cleaned them. I'm not turning yet."
Yet.
Justin shoved the thought away.
"We can't go straight to the Jeep," Justin said. "Not like this. We'd drag the whole lot with us."
Caleb's voice cracked. "Then what?"
Justin stared back out at the chaos, at the rocking vehicle, at the people he loved trapped inside.
"We make a distraction," he said.
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Inside the store?"
Justin nodded slowly. "Something loud. Something that pulls them away."
Caleb shook his head, fear flaring. "That'll bring more."
"Everything brings more," Ethan said grimly. "We just choose where."
Justin exhaled, shoulders rising and falling.
Somewhere above them, another scream echoed through the building—high and panicked—followed by the wet crash of something heavy hitting the floor. The moans in the lot surged in response, swelling like a tide.
Time was bleeding out.
Justin crouched lower, peering through the window one last time.
Mari's face flashed briefly into view as she ducked lower, eyes wide, jaw clenched with determination and terror. She was holding it together. Holding everyone together.
And Tally—
Justin closed his eyes.
"Okay," he said, voice firm now. "We don't have much time. Caleb, you stay behind us. You do exactly what we say."
Caleb nodded shakily. "I will. I swear."
Ethan checked his grip on the gun, eyes hard. "When we move, we don't hesitate."
Justin looked back out at the Jeep, at the dead battering it, at the gasoline-stained pavement.
"I'm coming," he whispered, not sure who he was talking to. "Hang tight."
The horn had ended waiting.
Now it was a countdown.