Page 32 of What Remains

Jay parked, and Cara scanned the trees with her bow resting across her lap, fingers ready.

“It’s… quiet,” she said—and out here, that observation never brought comfort, only unease.

Jay nodded. “Too quiet. But I’ll take quiet over company any night.”

Seth pulled in behind them, angling Beast so the two SUVs formed a rough wedge—defensible, with only one narrow approach.

They stepped out into the cooling air. Thick silence surrounded them, broken only by wind whistling through damaged gutters and the distant caw of crows settling into their roosts for the night.

“We’ll set up here,” Jay said, his voice firm. “Standard watch rotation. No exceptions.”

Seth wandered a few feet toward the rear of the church, his gaze sweeping the ground as he went.

“Tracks,” he said, crouching. “Old, maybe a week. One person, small stride. Could’ve been a kid.”

Cara’s brow furrowed. “Or someone injured.”

Jay sighed. “Whoever it was, they’re long-gone. Nothing we can do about it now.”

Jay met Cara’s gaze, then Seth’s. The same hard truth was reflected in all their eyes: safe no longer existed anywhere. Only safer, and only for the moment.

The sun dropped lower, bleeding its last light across the ghostly white church.

“Let’s set up,” Jay said at last. “Long night ahead.”

The three of them moved to their tasks without further talk, the only sounds the scrape of gear and the low, steady wind.

Chapter 7

Night Drive & Dark Fears

Josie blinked hard, the road ahead blurring into a gray smear. The acrid smell of siphoned gasoline, Layla’s soft whimpers, the lurch of the SUV pulling back onto the pavement. She cranked the window down, and a blast of cold air pushed at her face, but it couldn’t touch the exhaustion pressing in on her, a low, constant buzz at the base of her neck.

Layla had drifted off twice already, her small chin resting on her teddy bear, fingers still curled tightly around her seatbelt straps. Every few minutes, Josie glanced back, a fresh burst of alertness each time she confirmed the gentle rise and fall of her daughter’s small chest.

She had promised herself she would not drive after dark. Not alone. Not with Layla. Not with what ever the sick ones had become, it was too risky. She had found that out the hard was a week into this whole thing when she saw her neighbor wandering down the street. She had called out to her through the window only to be horrified when she turned and Josie had seen her face. She was like a corps but still moving. Nope, too many possibilities she couldn’t afford to test.

But she needed somewhere safe. Or at least safe enough.

Up ahead, a vast parking lot materialized out of the darkness. Rows of abandoned cars sat beneath layers of grit and pollen; some had shattered windows, others doors hanging open as if their owners had fled mid-step. A grocery store sign—SAVE-MART—dangled crookedly above the empty building. The S and M were gone entirely, leaving AVE-ART like a bad joke, the A swinging from a single bolt that creaked in the night breeze. The scene should have terrified her. Instead, through the fog of exhaustion, it looked like salvation.

An idea sparked.

“If we park here… maybe we look like another abandoned car,” she whispered.

Not brilliant. Not even good. But she no longer had the luxury of good.

“Mommy?” A groggy voice rose from the back.

Josie’s grip softened on the wheel. “It’s okay, love bug. Mommy just needs to find a place to rest for a little while.”

Layla rubbed her eyes. “Are we still on venture?”

Josie smiled despite everything. “We are. And good explorers know when to stop before they get too tired. Remember?”

Layla nodded, satisfied, and burrowed back under her blanket.

Josie eased the SUV toward the far corner of the lot, tucking it between two large pickup trucks before killing the engine. The silence that followed startled her—as though the world outside had been holding its breath and only now released it.