The Memories That Haunt Us

002

3rd person

The group had been through enough close calls to know that this journey wasn't going to be a cakewalk. As they approached the small, rundown gas station, it stood as a lone, decaying relic against the dark landscape. A far cry from anything remotely comfortable, but right now, it might as well have been a palace.

Isabella was at the front, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. She moved with purpose, every step calculated, every twitch of her hand ready to react. She wasn't just bold; she was instinctual, always reading the world around her like it was a dangerous puzzle she needed to solve. Despite her outward confidence, inside, a storm brewed—doubts, fears—but she hid them under a layer of sharp humour and bravado.

"Think they have room service?" Miles asked, flashing his signature grin as they drew closer. His hair was still ruffled from sleep, his steps far too casual for someone sneaking through zombie-infested lands. "I could really go for a snack after the whole running-for-our-lives thing."

Karl shot him a sideways glance "I'd settle for a door that locks and not having to be zombie food." His voice had that familiar edge of stubbornness, like he was fighting an internal battle to keep everyone safe. He was always protective—especially when it came to Isabella—but sometimes his protectiveness showed itself as frustration.

"Well, if we do get eaten," Isabella quipped, "at least you'll die still hungry, Miles."

Allison grinned adjusting the straps of her bag. "We'll be fine. If anything shows up, i'll kick its undead ass." Her confidence was infectious. She wasn't just tough; she carried herself like a force of nature, ready to fight, ready to defend her friends without a second thought. There was a fierceness about her, like the world dared it to try her.

"Still, maybe don't taunt fate?" Norman muttered quietly, his voice calm but firm. He was always the steady one—quiet, thoughtful. His past haunted him sometimes, the weight of abandonment lingering in his dark eyes, but he'd become the glue that held them together. His sense of responsibility ran deep, like he was making up for the family he lost by never letting his friends down. "We don't know if the letter's legit. Or if we're walking into something worse."

"More worse than zombies?" Miles asked, a playful sarcasm in his tone. "What, vampire-zombies?"

"Don't give the universe ideas," Isabella warned, cracking a grin. She needed the banter; it kept the crushing pressure of everything they were up against at bay.

When they finally reached the gas station, Karl stopped, eyeing the place suspiciously. The windows were smeared with dust, and the faint glow of the moon made the interior look more like a haunted house than shelter.

"Alright," Karl announced. "I'll take first watch."

"I'll sleep soundly knowing you're on the lookout," Isabella teased, tossing her bag down as she claimed her spot on the floor.

"Just keep your eyes open, Romeo," Allison added, flashing a knowing look in Karl's direction. She was well aware of his long-standing crush on Isabella.

Karl groaned, but before he could respond, Miles chimed in with a snort, "Yeah, maybe you'll spot a zombie prince to sweep you off your feet, Karl."

"How about I throw you to the zombies first, Miles?" Karl shot back, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

Norman shook his head, already setting up his own makeshift bed. "Please, can we have one night without anyone threatening to use Miles as bait?"

———

Isabella had trouble sleeping. Maybe it was the gnawing fear about the letter, or the fact that they were literally hiding out in a place that could attract zombies like flies to rotting meat. Either way, sleep wasn't coming easy.