Zombie survivor

[67] Check point

The RV rumbled along the uneven highway, the occasional bump or sway causing everyone inside to jostle slightly. The awkward air from the boys grilling Evan had started to settle, but his flushed face and sheepish grin still lingered in the corner of everyone's eye. Chloe peeked from the back, leaning against the doorway leading to the small kitchen area. Her sharp blue eyes scanned the scene, and when she saw Evan's expression, a smug smile crept across her lips.

Sitting nearby, Brittney noticed immediately. She arched an eyebrow, her pink-dyed hair swaying as she turned toward Chloe. "Alright, what's with the face?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Why are you smiling like you've got dirt on someone?"

Chloe shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back against the doorway. "Oh, nothing," she said, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Just enjoying the show."

Brittney narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "Bullshit. Spill it."

Chloe smirked, her lips curling in amusement. "Why? So you can run your mouth and twist it into some drama for your next imaginary TikTok? Hard pass, Britt."

Brittney's jaw dropped slightly, but she quickly recovered, her cheeks tinged with red. "Excuse me? At least I don't have to fish for simps to keep me entertained."

"Oh, please," Chloe shot back, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. "You're just mad because I don't need to beg for attention. It just comes to me naturally."

"Beg?!" Brittney's voice rose, her hands gesturing wildly. "Girl, the only thing natural about you is how fake you are."

The two locked eyes, and the tension in the RV shot up several notches. Tyler nudged Jordan, whispering with a grin, "Yo, catfight alert."

"Big yikes," Jordan muttered, watching the unfolding drama with morbid fascination.

Chloe leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering into a mocking tone. "Jealousy's a bad look, Brittney. Just saying."

Brittney scoffed, her cheeks flushing even darker. "Jealous? Of what? Your oversized ego or your fake-ass Barbie act?"

Blake, sitting nearby, perked up, raising a cautious hand. "Okay, okay, let's not—"

"Shut up, Blake," Chloe snapped without looking at him. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Brittney. "At least I don't need to dye my hair pink to stand out."

"Better pink than bleach blonde," Brittney fired back, her voice dripping with venom. "You look like every Insta-thot wannabe rolled into one."

Evan, who had been trying his best to fade into the background, suddenly found himself the center of attention as Chloe turned her gaze to him. "Hey, Evan," she said, her tone saccharine and loaded with false charm. "What do you think? Which one of us is right?"

Evan froze, his already pink face turning crimson. "W-what? I—uh—"

"Yeah, Evan," Brittney chimed in, her tone equally pointed. "What's your take? Who's got it right?"

"I—uh—I don't—" Evan stammered, his hands gripping his knees as he darted looks between the two girls. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he desperately searched for an escape.

"Careful, Evan," Tyler whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear. "This is how guys get canceled."

"Not helping!" Evan hissed back, his voice cracking under the pressure.

Blake, ever the peacemaker, raised both hands. "Alright, let's all calm down," he said, his voice filled with practiced diplomacy. "There's no need to put Evan in the middle of this. We're all a team, and—"

"Oh, great," Chloe interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Here comes the lecture. Let me guess: 'As a feminist ally, I believe we should all respect each other's voices.' Blah, blah, blah."

Blake's face flushed, but he pressed on. "I'm just saying, we don't need to turn this into a fight. Let's talk it out like adults."

"Okay, Blake," Brittney said, crossing her arms. "If you're so big on mediating, why don't you pick a side?"

Blake blinked, caught off guard. "I... I don't think it's fair to—"

"Pick a side," Chloe said sweetly, her gaze challenging. "Unless you're too scared."

Blake stammered, glancing between the two girls as his hands fidgeted nervously. "I-I think you're both... valid in your perspectives."

"Cop out!" Tyler called from the back, laughing. "Blake, my guy, you folded like a lawn chair."

"Shut up, Tyler," Blake muttered, sinking lower in his seat.

Before the argument could escalate further, the RV jolted to a stop, throwing everyone slightly off balance. Ms. Heather's voice called from the front, her tone tinged with nervousness. "Uh, everyone? You might want to come take a look at this."

Morgan, who had been riding her motorcycle ahead, pulled up alongside the RV. The group crowded toward the front, peering out the windshield. In the distance, just past a cluster of jagged rocks, was a military checkpoint.

The makeshift barricade stretched across the road, complete with rusted vehicles piled high and a barbed wire fence. Armed guards in mismatched uniforms patrolled the area, their movements sharp and practiced. A large, faded sign stood nearby, the words "Welcome to Canada" barely visible beneath layers of grime and graffiti.

"Shit," Brad muttered, leaning over Jean to get a better look. "What the hell is this?"

"Looks like a border checkpoint," Jean said, his voice cautious. "But it's not official. That's not military—it's militia."

"Is that good or bad?" Brittney asked, craning her neck to see.

"Depends," Morgan said flatly, stepping off her bike and walking toward the RV. She climbed inside, her sharp gaze sweeping over the group. "Stay calm. Don't do anything stupid. Let me handle this."

"Great," Tyler muttered under his breath. "Because everything else has gone so smoothly."

Morgan ignored him, her focus entirely on the checkpoint ahead. "Heather," she said, her tone firm. "Move us forward. Slowly."

Ms. Heather nodded nervously, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. The RV lurched forward, inching closer to the checkpoint as the group braced themselves for whatever came next.

Q: What would you do if you saw two girls fighting?