Bryan stood outside the motel, waiting for Osborne to back the RV out of its corner spot. Something occurred to him, and he turned to ask Kelly: "Why are all the cars here out of gas? Did you drain them?"
"Yep." Kelly leaned lazily against the wall, her expression suggesting she was recalling something unpleasant. "We only got here yesterday. We were going to fill up at the gas station, but some asshole had already drained every drop. So we had to find all the car keys and siphon what little was left in these tanks. Wasn't much..."
She glanced at Bryan and Sarah, her mood brightening. "Lucky you guys showed up. Otherwise, we'd probably have had to risk going into town for gas today."
...Great. We're basically their delivery service. Bryan rolled his eyes internally.
Osborne maneuvered the RV to the convenience store entrance, then called the three kids inside to help load supplies. Strangely, though the gas station had been completely emptied, the convenience store's shelves were still fully stocked.
For nearly an hour, the kids hauled supplies while Osborne used a hose and gas can to drain what remained in Bryan's car. Once everything was ready, they loaded up. Osborne took the wheel, and they headed back onto the highway.
Bryan sat in the passenger seat, exchanging information with Osborne about everything that had happened since the outbreak began. During their conversation, he finally learned why the man had been so wary of two children.
Osborne and Kelly lived in Round Rock. Their home was isolated—hardly anyone came out that way—so when the outbreak hit, they hadn't fled in a panic like most families. Instead, they'd made a run to the nearest supermarket and stockpiled food.
They'd boarded up their windows, locked their doors, and waited for rescue. A week passed. Water, electricity, and internet all went out one by one. No rescue ever came.
Then one day, a group of children knocked on their door, begging for food. Looking at those desperate faces, kindhearted Osborne had caved. He let them in, gave them food and shelter.
But kindness is so easily exploited.
That night, the children secretly unlocked the front door and let in over a dozen armed adults.
Osborne and Kelly had been sound asleep. They never imagined their generosity would be repaid like this. Before they knew what was happening, they were overpowered.
Watching these strangers devour his food, Osborne felt nothing but rage. And the fragments of conversation he overheard made his blood run cold.
These people hadn't known each other before. They were three separate families who'd ended up hiding together by chance. At first, they'd coexisted peacefully enough.
But as time went on and food grew scarce, tensions escalated. They were too afraid to scavenge in areas with infected, and the safe zones nearby had already been picked clean. Just when they thought they'd tear each other apart over the last scraps, someone proposed a horrifying solution.
Send the children to knock on doors. Get inside however they could. Convince the residents to let them stay at least one night. Then, under cover of darkness, unlock the door and let the adults in. Subdue the sleeping residents. Take everything.
Everyone had agreed. Before reaching Osborne's home, they'd already used this method on over a dozen other houses. As for the original occupants? Killed and dumped outside to be forgotten.
Osborne had never imagined that just days into the disaster, these people had already transformed into monsters. Though fury burned inside him, he forced himself to stay calm. He didn't provoke them. Instead, he watched for an opening, worked free of his restraints, and slipped out with Kelly while the others were enjoying their spoils.
Because all of them had been armed, Osborne didn't try to re-enter the house. Instead, he found something to bar the door from the outside—and set the whole place ablaze. He watched those monsters scream and thrash in the flames until the sounds stopped.
Then he and Kelly left Round Rock, heading for Dallas. They'd run out of gas and ended up at the rest stop—where they'd met Bryan and Sarah.
Listening to Osborne's account, Bryan felt for the first time just how terrifying human nature could become in a disaster. It was different from watching post-apocalyptic movies or reading survival novels in his previous life. This was real.
"Whew..."
He leaned back in the passenger seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
He emptied his mind, trying to stop thinking about all of it. Before he knew it, he'd drifted off to sleep.
Beep beep beep—
When Bryan opened his eyes again, a light drizzle was pattering against the RV. Soft music played from the speakers. The atmosphere felt almost peaceful.
He glanced at his watch out of habit. The hands pointed to 11:00. He'd slept for nearly two hours.
Osborne noticed he was awake and teased, "Hey, look who's up!"
"Ahem..." Bryan coughed lightly, straightening in his seat and shaking off the grogginess. He looked toward the back of the RV and saw Kelly and Sarah lying on the bed, heads together, whispering about something.
As if sensing his gaze, Kelly turned and glared. "What are you looking at?"
Bryan rolled his eyes and turned back to face forward. Through the rain-streaked windows, he could see they were now on Interstate 35. He asked Osborne, "Where are we?"
Osborne sighed, his expression troubled. "We passed Waco a while back. Not much farther now. But it's worse than I thought—every town and city we've passed has fallen. I have no idea what Dallas is going to look like."
"It should be okay," Bryan said after a moment's thought, though his voice carried a note of uncertainty. "Dallas is basically in the central region. No matter how bad this outbreak gets, the government isn't going to just let it become an infection zone."
Osborne raised an eyebrow, surprised that this kid understood geopolitics. But he didn't dwell on it—just nodded in agreement.
"That's not what worries me. Dallas is right next to Fort Worth and Arlington—three cities practically on top of each other. If the government abandons Dallas, they'd have to abandon all three. Unless the situation is completely out of control, they'd never make that call."
"Then what's bothering you?"
"It's not the infected I'm worried about. It's the people inside."
Osborne shook his head with a bitter smile, voicing his real concern.
"Government quarantine measures hurt a lot of people—their personal freedoms, their livelihoods. You haven't lived through this kind of thing, so you might not understand, but these people will protest. March in the streets. And criminals will take advantage of the chaos. That's what worries me—what's happening inside those walls."
Bryan immediately understood. It was just like the pandemic in his previous life—any inconvenience, any restriction, and people would riot. And then politicians would pander to them for votes, promising whatever they wanted to hear. Utterly absurd.
Still, he had to ask: "Don't these people realize that protesting could spread the infection even faster?"
Osborne's lips twisted into a sardonic smile. "Until disaster lands on their own doorstep, they'll never understand what fear really means."
"What's that?"
Just then, as the RV rounded a long curve, something in the distance caught their attention.
The normally wide interstate was packed with vehicles stretching as far as the eye could see. Military trucks patrolled along both shoulders. Helicopters occasionally swept overhead, circling and surveying the area.
At the end of the road stood a massive barrier wall. Armed soldiers patrolled its length. Below, personnel in hazmat suits held scanning devices, methodically checking each vehicle at the front of the line.
Once a vehicle passed inspection—all occupants cleared, no stowaways—they signaled the gate to open and waved the car through.
Bryan and Osborne exchanged a look. Both saw the relief in the other's eyes.
They'd made it.