Dust and debris spiraled up behind the vehicle as it tore down the cracked road, tires whining in protest. The world outside blurred into a smear of gray and brown— ruined storefronts, collapsed signs, the skeletons of a civilization that hadn't survived the end of itself.
Carl sat shotgun, one elbow hooked lazily against the open window. Wind rushed past his face, tugging at his hair, carrying the dry scent of rust and old smoke.
He stared ahead, eyes half-lidded, pretending the road was emptier than it was.
Beside him, Adira drove with both hands locked on the wheel. Her posture was rigid, jaw set, eyes flicking constantly between the road and the mirrors.
Every movement of the car felt calculated, deliberate—like she was expecting something to jump out at them at any second.
