With Our Time Left

Chapter 3

MILA'S POV

The car jostled as we hit another bump in the road. I felt every jolt in my bones, every shudder that rattled through the frame, and it all seemed to amplify the chaos outside. My brother, Samuel, sat beside me, his face set in a grim expression. He had been quiet since we left the house, staring out the window, gripping the handle above his seat so tightly.

I wanted to say something to him, to ask if he was okay, but the words were stuck in my throat. I kept replaying Christine's face in my mind, the way her body had slumped to the floor after Dad shot her. I shivered involuntarily, feeling the cold sweat trickle down my back.

Dad was focused, his eyes never leaving the road. His hands were steady on the wheel, but I could see the tension in his jaw. He was always the calm one, the one who could make quick decisions, but even he seemed a little shaken. The car swerved again, narrowly avoiding a man stumbling across the street, his eyes glazed and vacant.

"We're getting close to the city," Dad muttered, almost to himself. He glanced at his phone, still clutched in his hand. "Lori... please be okay," he whispered.

I turned my gaze to the side mirror. I could still see those things—the people who weren't really people anymore—chasing after us. I had no idea how many there were or where they had come from. They seemed endless, like some kind of nightmare that had burst out of the ground.

"Are we going to make it?" I finally managed to ask, my voice coming out smaller than I intended.

Dad didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked to the mirror, and I knew he was measuring the distance, weighing our chances. "We have to," he finally said. "For Sara, for your mom... we have to."

A beat of silence passed between us, thick with tension and fear. Then, a loud thump came from the back of the car, and Samuel whipped his head around.

"They're catching up," he warned, his voice strained.

I turned, peeking over my seat, and my stomach clenched. One of them—a man whose face was mangled, his clothes torn—had latched onto the back of the car, clawing his way up. His fingers dug into the metal, and I could see the raw, bloodied skin on his hands. His mouth was open, teeth gnashing, and his eyes were wild with hunger.

"Dad!" I shouted, panic flooding my voice.

"I see it," Dad replied, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Without warning, he slammed on the brakes, throwing us all forward. The creature was thrown off, tumbling down the road behind us. Dad hit the gas again, and we sped away, the tires screeching on the asphalt.

"Damn it!" Dad muttered under his breath, his hands tightening on the wheel. "We can't keep doing this."

He swerved again, pulling us off the main road and into a narrow alleyway between two tall buildings. The car barely fit, scraping against the walls as we moved deeper into the alley. We finally came to a stop in a small courtyard surrounded by abandoned warehouses.

Dad turned off the engine and looked at us, his expression serious. "We need to move on foot from here. We're too exposed in the car. Grab whatever you can carry," he ordered.

We quickly jumped out and started gathering supplies. I grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with water bottles, energy bars, and a flashlight. My hands were shaking, but I tried to focus. Samuel picked up a crowbar and tested its weight in his hand.

"Are we going to find Mom and Sara?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"Yes," Dad replied firmly. "We'll find them."

I nodded, swallowing hard. I had to believe that. I had to believe that they were still out there, that we could still find them. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and looked at Dad. "I'm ready," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Dad nodded. "Stay close. Stay quiet. And whatever you do, don't stop moving."

He led the way out of the courtyard, and we slipped into the shadows, moving carefully and quietly through the city streets. Every sound seemed amplified—the crunch of gravel underfoot, the distant moans and growls echoing between the buildings. The air was thick with tension, and every step felt like it could be our last.

We turned a corner, and suddenly, we saw them—a horde of the undead, blocking our path. They were packed tightly together, moving in a slow, shambling mass. I felt my breath catch in my throat, and I instinctively took a step back.

Dad held up a hand, signaling us to stop. "We'll have to find another way around," he whispered.

But as we turned to backtrack, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. More of them were coming from the other side, closing in on us. We were trapped.

"Shit," Samuel muttered under his breath.

Dad's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. "Up there!" he said, pointing to a fire escape on the side of a building.

We bolted for it, sprinting across the street and scrambling up the metal ladder. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. I could hear the creatures below us, their hands slapping against the metal, trying to grab hold of our legs.

We reached the rooftop, and Dad pulled us over the edge, one by one. I collapsed onto the ground, my chest heaving, my legs trembling.

"Is everyone okay?" Dad asked, looking at us both.

We nodded, though none of us were really okay. I looked out over the city, the dark clouds rolling in, the fires burning in the distance. It was like a scene from a horror movie. Only, this time, it was real.

And somewhere out there, my mom and sister were in the middle of it all. We had to find them. We had to survive.

SARA'S POV

My hands were shaking as I ran, my footsteps echoing through the deserted airport terminal. I could hear them behind me—the creatures, their growls growing louder, more frenzied. My heart was racing, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I clutched my phone tightly, willing it to work, to connect, to somehow reach my mom or dad.

I darted into a side corridor, my eyes scanning for a place to hide. My mind was racing, trying to think of a way out, but everything was a blur. I turned another corner and found myself in a dark, empty restroom. I ducked inside, pressing my back against the cold, tiled wall, trying to steady my breathing.

I could hear them outside, their footsteps dragging across the floor, the occasional thud as they bumped into something. I held my breath, praying they wouldn't find me.

Then, a sound—faint, but unmistakable. A voice. "Sara?" it called out, soft and desperate.

I froze. "Mom?" I whispered back, my voice barely audible.

Silence.

"Mom?" I tried again, louder this time.

But there was no reply, only the sound of the creatures moving closer. I felt a surge of fear and anger. I had to move. I had to find her. I couldn't just sit here and wait to die.

I pushed off the wall, clutching my phone, and slipped out of the restroom. I crept along the corridor, trying to stay quiet, trying to listen for any sign of my mom. I was terrified, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep moving. I had to survive.