The horn screamed.
It wasn't a tap or a short blast—it was a full, furious wail, loud and panicked and wrong, ripping through the parking lot like a siren meant to summon death itself.
Every zombie turned at once.
Mari felt it in her bones before she saw it—the way the air shifted, the way bodies moved with sudden purpose. Heads snapped toward the Jeep. Mouths opened wider. Arms lifted. The sound didn't just draw them in.
It commanded them.
"Oh my God—oh my God—" Renee whispered, hands flying to her mouth.
"TURN IT OFF," Marcus hissed, panic breaking through his whisper. "TURN IT OFF—"
Mari slammed her palm down, fumbling blindly, heart pounding so hard it made her vision pulse. The horn cut off—but the damage was done.
The zombies rushed the Jeep.
Not wandering. Not drifting.
Running.
The impact came fast and brutal. Bodies slammed into the sides, the hood, the back hatch, hard enough to rock the entire vehicle. The suspension groaned. Metal shrieked. Fingernails scraped against glass in long, screeching lines that set everyone's teeth on edge.
Kenzie cried out softly from the trunk area, clutching Lila tighter as Barbie whimpered once inside the pack before going still again.
Tally slid down behind Mari's seat, scrambling on hands and knees, pressing herself low to the floor like she could disappear into it. Her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered frantically. "I didn't—I swear I didn't—"
"Shut up," Marcus snapped, eyes wild as he stared out the side window. "Just—just shut up."
Another body slammed into the passenger side, hard enough to make the window bow inward for a terrifying second before flexing back.
Mari froze.
The glass held.
Barely.
"They're gonna break it," Tally whimpered, voice small now, nothing sharp or cruel left in it. "They're gonna break it—they're gonna—"
"They're not," Mari said sharply, forcing her voice steady even as her hands trembled on the dashboard. "These windows are reinforced. They're not breaking."
She didn't know if it was true.
She needed it to be.
The Jeep rocked again as multiple bodies pressed at once, weight stacking, hands slapping, teeth clicking inches from the glass. One face mashed flat against the driver's side window, nose smeared sideways, saliva streaking downward in thick, cloudy trails.
Dot crossed herself, lips moving fast in prayer. "Lord, if you ever loved me—"
"Keep it down," Renee whispered harshly, tears streaming freely now. "Please—please—"
Gasoline burned in Mari's nose.
That sharp, chemical smell clung to the air, soaked into the pavement beneath them, creeping up through every seam and crack. It made every breath feel dangerous. One spark. One bad movement.
Someone in the back shifted, just a little.
"Don't move," Mari hissed instantly. "Nobody move."
"My legs are numb," Lila whispered. "I can't feel my feet."
"Better numb than dead," Marcus muttered, though his voice shook.
Another impact—this one against the hood. The Jeep dipped forward slightly, suspension groaning. A hand slid down the windshield, leaving a dark smear of blood and grime.
Mari's eyes flicked to the gas pump outside.
Still attached.
Still pressed against the side of the Jeep at a bad angle.
Still a death sentence if she tried to move.
"Pull off," Renee whispered, desperation cracking her voice. "Mari, please—just pull off."
"I can't," Mari whispered back, jaw clenched. "Not like this. Not with the pump still in."
"And if they break the windows?" Marcus demanded. "What then?"
Mari swallowed hard. "Then we pray they don't."
Tally curled tighter behind the seat, knees pulled to her chest, forehead pressed to the floor mat. Her voice dropped to a broken whisper. "Justin's gonna kill me. If we die, he's gonna kill me."
That hit Mari harder than she expected.
She thought of Justin—his face when he'd looked back at her through the windshield before disappearing around the side of the building. Calm. Focused. Trusting her with everyone inside this metal box.
Hang tight.
That was always his phrase.
She clung to it now like it was the only thing keeping her breathing.
Across the lot, something exploded.
The sound was distant but deep—a hollow whump that echoed off buildings and rattled the Jeep's windows. Orange light flared briefly, reflected in the glass, casting flickering shadows across terrified faces.
Several zombies peeled away immediately, bodies jerking toward the sound like puppets pulled by new strings.
"Some of them are leaving," Kenzie whispered from the back, hope creeping into her voice despite herself.
Mari saw it too—gaps forming, bodies shuffling away toward the noise and fire.
But too many stayed.
One zombie slammed its head against the hood again and again, bone cracking audibly on the third impact. Another dragged itself across the roof, fingers screeching against the metal like knives.
Tally squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't wanna die," she whispered. "I don't wanna die like this."
"None of us do," Dot said quietly, steel threaded through her fear. "So you breathe. And you stay still."
The windows creaked again—not breaking, but stressing, singing under pressure in a way that made Mari's stomach twist.
Her back ached. Her legs throbbed. Every nerve felt stretched tight as wire.
She didn't dare move.
Didn't dare blink too long.
Didn't dare look away from the pump, the glass, the shadows shifting just beyond reach.
Somewhere across the street, flames roared higher.
Something screamed—not human, not quite—and ran.
Mari didn't see it.
None of them did.
They were too busy watching the dead claw at their prison, too busy counting breaths and praying silently, too busy trapped inside tinted glass with fear thick enough to drown in.
Behind her seat, Tally whimpered once more, quieter now.
Everyone was scared.
Everyone was furious.
And no one could do a damn thing about it.
The Jeep rocked again.
And the horn, mercifully, stayed silent—but the echo of it still rang in their ears, loud enough to call the dead back again if any one of them made a single wrong move.