Jenna woke to gray light filtering through the camper's thin curtains and the sound of Nick snoring.
She lay still for a long moment, listening to her own heartbeat, feeling the weight of another day pressing down on her chest. Derek's face flashed through her mind. The way he'd looked at her that last morning, smiling, alive, reaching for her, and she shoved it away. She couldn't think about him. Not now. Not if she wanted to keep moving.
The camper was quiet except for Nick's rhythmic snoring from the dinette, where he'd passed out sitting up, shotgun across his lap, his head tilted back at an angle that had to be killing his neck. Ashley and Jimmy were in the bedroom, the door cracked open, soft breathing the only sound.
Jenna sat up slowly, her body aching in ways she hadn't expected. Her neck was stiff, her shoulders tight, her lower back screaming from the thin mattress. She'd never slept on anything this uncomfortable in her life. Derek had insisted on a good mattress, and spent a fortune on it. A Tempur-Pedic with adjustable firmness and a cooling gel layer. Now he was dead, that mattress was possibly covered in blood or worse, and she was in a stranger's camper with three people she'd met two days ago.
The world was fucking weird.
She need air. Needed to think. Needed to not be surrounded by sleeping bodies and the memory of her husband's teeth tearing into his own severed arm. No, stop, don't think about that.
She pulled on her too-big sweater, the one she'd found in the farmhouse, and eased open the camper door. The hinges creaked. She winced, froze, listened. No one stirred.
The clearing was empty. Mist hung between the pines, thick and white, burning off slowly as the sun climbed. She walked a few steps, wrapped her arms around herself, and just... breathed.
For the first time since Derek died, she was alone. No zombies, no running, no strangers watching her every move. Just her and the trees and the silence and the cold air filling her lungs.
She thought about Jimmy and Ashley. The way they'd looked at each other when she mentioned her missing memories. Like they knew something. Like they shared some secret she wasn't part of. She'd seen that look before. Couples who'd communicated without words. But this was different. This was... conspiratorial.
And that flash Jimmy has. That "memory" he couldn't explain. What the fuck was that about? He'd looked genuinely confused, genuinely disturbed. Like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he had. In this world, ghosts were probably real too.
Her mind wandered to Nick. Tall, broad-shouldered Nick with his easy grin and his stupid jokes and the way her looked at her when she made that undercarriage comment. Like he was seeing for the first time. Like he liked what he saw. Like he was imagining what she looked like under the too-big sweater and the grief.
She let herself think about it. About him. About what it might feel like to have someone look at her like Derek used to. To have hands on her again, warm and wanting, to feel something other than grief and fear and fucking exhaustion. To be touched, really touched, by someone who wanted her and not just to survive.
Her cheeks flushed hot despite the cold. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily. "Stop it," she muttered. "He just met you. Your husband is dead. Your husband was just eaten alive in front of you. Get a grip, you horny bitch."
But her mind didn't stop. It never stopped anymore. It jumped from horror to lust to grief to fear in the span of seconds, a pinball machine of trauma with no off switch.
She heard footsteps behind her and turned. Nick stood there, rubbing his eyes, his hair a disaster, looking like he'd been dragged backward through a hedge. His shirt was half-untucked, revealing a strip of stomach she definitely did not notice.
"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, his voice rough with morning.
"Couldn't stay in there." She nodded toward the camper. "Needed air. Needed to not listen to you sawing logs."
He grinned, that easy grin. "I don't snore."
"You absolutely fucking snore. It's like a chainsaw having sex with a freight train."
Nick laughed, a real laugh, loud in the quiet morning. "That's the best description anyone's ever given me. I'm putting that on my tombstone."
"Assuming you get a tombstone."
The words hung in the air. His grin faded, just slightly. "Yeah. Assuming that."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the mist burn off. Jenna was acutely aware of how close he was. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to see the stubble on his jaw, the small scar above his eyebrow, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Hey," Nick said quietly. "About yesterday. The undercarriage thing. I wasn't trying to be an asshole. It just... caught me off guard."
Jenna snorted. "It caught me off guard. I still don't know where that came from."
"I do."
She looked at him.
"You're hurting," he said. "You lost someone. Your brain is looking for anything to feel anything other than that. It's normal. Fucked up, but normal."
Jenna stared at him. "That's... actually really insightful."
"I have my moments." The grin returned. "Rare, but they happen."
She laughed a real laugh, the first one since Derek died. It felt good. Wrong, but good. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Someone simpler. A guy with a shotgun and not much going on upstairs."
"I'm deeply offended." He put a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know I'm very complex. I have thoughts and feelings and everything."
"Doubtful."
He grinned again. That grin was going to be a problem.
"We should wake the others," she said. "Get moving."
"Yeah." He didn't move. "Jenna?"
"What?"
"I'm glad you're here. For what it's worth."
She met his eyes. She saw something there she couldn't quite name. Warmth maybe, or interest, or just basic human decency. In this world, it was hard to tell the difference anymore.
"Me too, Nick. Me too."
They broke camp an hour later, the Suburban and camper pulling back onto the road as the sun cleared the trees. Jimmy drove, Ashley rode shotgun, Nick and Jenna in the back with the supplies, surrounded by buckets of filtered grease and boxes of canned food.
The day started quiet. Too quiet.
They passed through more small towns, more abandoned cars, more bodies. The dead were everywhere, shambling through streets, standing in yards, clustered around buildings like they were waiting for something. Slow ones, mostly, their stiff gaits no match for the Suburban's speed. One of them, a woman in a tattered nightgown, stood in the middle of the road and didn't move as they approached. Jimmy swerved around her, and she turned, slowly, her filmed eyes tracking them, her mouth opening in that wet rattle.
But the runners were there too. Circling. Watching. Waiting.
"They're heading us," Jimmy said, his eyes on the rearview. "The runners. They're staying just close enough to keep us moving in one direction."
"Which direction?" Ashley asked.
"The direction they want."
Jenna pressed closer to the window, watching a runner keep pace with them along the tree line. It moved like an animal, low to the ground, using its hands as much as its feet. Its skin was gray, mottled with black and purple, and one of its legs bent the wrong way at the knee. It didn't seem to notice.
"Can we go faster?" She asked.
"We can try."
Jimmy pressed the accelerator. The Suburban surged forward, the camper swaying dangerously behind them. The runner fell back, then disappeared into the trees.
But they all knew it wouldn't last.
By midday, they'd put another sixty miles behind them. The landscape had changed. It was flatter, more open, with fields stretching to the horizon on either side. They passed a sign welcoming them to South Carolina, a small victory that felt meaningless in the face of everything else.
Jenna's stomach growled. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Yesterday? The day before? Time had lost all meaning.
Nick noticed. He reached into a bag and pulled out a granola bar, and tossed it to her. "Eat."
"Thanks." She tore it open, and took a bite. It was stale, chalky, the best thing she'd ever tasted.
Ashley turned around in her seat. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine." Jenna shrugged. "You know. Living the dream."
Ashley almost smiled. "The dream sucks."
"Yeah. It really does."
They drove in silence for a while. Then Jenna spoke again, her voice quieter.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Jimmy's memory thing last night. The flash he had. Does that happen often?
Ashley was quiet for a long moment. She glanced at Jimmy, who kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight.
"No," Ashley said finally. "That was the first time. He's never... he's never had anything like that happen before." Her voice was careful, but Jenna could hear the concern underneath. "I didn't even know what to say. He just went pale and started describing something he couldn't possibly have seen."
Jenna nodded slowly. "That's fucked up."
"Yeah." Ashley's voice was quiet. "It really is."
Jenna nodded, letting it drop. But she filed it away. There was more going on with these two than they were letting on. She could feel it.
The road curved through a dense stretch of forest, the trees pressing close on both sides. Jimmy slowed, his eyes scanning the shadows. Something felt wrong. The moans had stopped.
"Everyone quiet," he said. "Something's not right."
They listened. Nothing. Just the wind and the creak of branches.
Then Jenna saw it.
A face in the trees. Just a flash, there and gone. Pale. Filmed eyes. Watching.
"Jimmy," she whispered. "There's something in the trees. Watching us."
He looked where she pointed. Nothing there now. But the hair on his arms stood up.
"They're hiding," he said. "They've never done that before."
Nick raised the shotgun. "Hiding how?"
"Like they're waiting. Stalking. Fucking hunting."
The Suburban crept forward. Every shadow seemed to move. Every branch could hide a face.
Another flash, this time on the other side. A runner, low to the ground, slipping between trees, keeping pace.
"There," Ashley pointed. "Another one."
Jimmy pressed the accelerator. The Suburban picked up speed. The camper swayed behind them.
Then a figure stepped onto the road ahead.
Not running. Not shambling. Just... standing. Waiting. A man in coveralls, his face gray, his eyes filmed, his mouth hanging open. He didn't move as they approached. Just stood there, watching.
Jimmy swerved around him. The man turned, slowly, tracking them. Still not moving.
"What the fuck?" Nick breathed. "Why didn't he attack?"
"I don't know." Jimmy's voice was tight. "But I don't like this."
They drove faster.
The ambush came five miles later.
A group of them. Maybe a dozen, maybe more, burst from the trees on both sides, not in a chaotic rush but in a coordinated wave. Runners led, hitting the Suburban from the sides, forcing Jimmy to swerve. Slow ones followed, shambling into the road, blocking escape.
One runner made it onto the hood, its face pressed against the windshield, its filmed eyes staring at Jimmy through the glass. It clawed, scratched, leaving lines in the reinforced surface.
Jimmy hit the brakes hard. The thing flew forward, sliding off the hood.
Another took its place, launching from the side, slamming into the passenger door. Ashley screamed. The thing's face pressed against the glass. It was a woman, young, her jaw hanging loose, her teeth broken and bloody. It clawed at the window, nails scratching.
Then Jenna looked out the back window and her blood ran cold.
The camper was covered in them.
Runners clung to the roof like spiders, their gray faces pressed against the windows. Slow ones clawed at the sides, trying to find purchase. And at the door, one of them had its hand on the handle. Pulling. Testing. Learning.
"Jimmy!" Jenna screamed. "The camper! They're on the camper! One of them is trying the door!"
Jimmy's eyes shot to the rearview. She was right. The thing at the door pulled the handle, felt it give slightly, pulled again. Its filmed eyes were fixed on the door like it was figuring something out.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Nick, take the wheel."
"What?"
"No time. Take the fucking wheel."
Nick scrambled over the center console, sliding into Jimmy's lap for a second before Jimmy shoved him into the driver's seat. Jimmy grabbed the AR-15, rolled down his window, and climbed out.
"Jim!" Ashley screamed. "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. He was already pulling himself onto the roof, the wind tearing at him, the Suburban swaying as Nick fought to keep it steady. Below him, the road blurred past. One wrong move and he'd fall, get crushed under the wheels, become another body on the asphalt.
He didn't think about that.
He ran along the roof, and jumped.
The gap between the Suburban and the camper was maybe six feet. It felt like a mile. He sailed through the air, hitting the campers roof hard, rolled, almost slid off the side. His fingers caught the edge, held.
The runners on the roof turned to face him.
Three of them. Gray faces. Filmed eyes. Reaching hands.
Jimmy brought the AR-15 up and fired.
The first round took the closest one in the face. Its head exploded, its body tumbled off the roof. The second round caught the next in the chest, didn't stop it. Third round, head shot, down. The third one lunged. He fired twice a, both rounds finding its skull, and it dropped at his feet.
He scrambled to the edge of the roof, and looked down. The thing at the door was still there, still pulling at the handle, its dead eyes fixed on the prize inside. Jimmy aimed, fired. The top of its head came off. It slumped against the door, then slid off into the road.
More were coming. Runners, climbing onto the camper from the sides. Jimmy fired again, again, again. Each shot a head shot, each body tumbling away. The AR-15 clicked empty. He dropped it, grabbed his 9mm, kept firing.
Inside the Suburban, Ashley watched in horror as Jimmy fought on the camper roof. Jenna had her face pressed to the back window, her breath fogging the glass. Nick fought the wheel, keeping the rig steady, his knuckles white.
"Nick, we need to slow down!" Ashley shouted. "He's going to fall!"
"If I slow down, more of them get on!" Nick's voice was strained. "I have to keep speed!"
On the camper roof, Jimmy fired his last rounds, dropping one more, and then the gun clicked empty.
He looked around. The roof was clear. For now.
He lay flat, chest heaving, staring at the sky. His whole body shook. His hands were raw from gripping the edge. Blood spattered across his face, his arms, his chest.
"Clear!" he shouted, though he didn't know if they could hear him. "They're off!"
He crawled to the edge of the roof, and looked down at the door. The handle was smeared with blood and God knew what else, but it was intact. He couldn't get inside from up here, not while they were moving. He'd have to ride it out.
So he lay there, spread-eagle on the roof of a camper being towed through zombie infested countryside, and held on.
Twenty minutes later, when the road was clear and the runners were nothing but distant specs in rearview, Nick finally pulled into a clearing and killed the engine.
Jimmy climbed down from the camper roof on shaking legs. His body was screaming, his hands were torn up, and he'd gone through four magazines.
Ashley ran to him, grabbed him, and held him so tight he couldn't breathe. "You fucking idiot. You fucking insane idiot."
"Ash, I'm okay."
"You could have died."
"But I didn't."
Jenna and Nick walked up, both staring at him like he'd grown a second head.
"That was..." Jenna started, then stopped. "I don't even have words."
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a goddamn lunatic. You know that?"
"So I've been told."
Jenna shook her head. "You jumped onto a moving camper and killed like ten zombies with your bare fucking hands."
"Seven." He held up his hands. "And not bare. I had guns."
Ashley kissed him hard. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. "Don't ever do that again."
"I can't promise that."
"I know." She kissed him again. "I know."
By nightfall, they'd put another hundred miles behind them. The land had opened up, the forest giving away to farmland and scattered houses. They found a clearing off a gravel road, tucked away behind a fallow field, and parked for the night.
Jenna sat outside the camper, wrapped in a blanket, staring at nothing. Nick joined her after a while, two cans of warm beer in his hands.
"Found these in the camper," he said, handing her one. "Figured we deserve it."
She took it, cracked it open, took a long drink. It was cheap and warm and perfect.
"Thanks."
They sat in silence, drinking their beer, watching the stars emerge. The moans were distant tonight, barely audible. Almost peaceful.
"Can I ask you something?" Jenna asked.
"Sure."
"What do you remember? From before? Your childhood, your parents, all of it?"
Nick was quiet for a moment. "Everything. Too much, sometimes. My mom's meatloaf. My dad teaching me to fish. The time my sister fell out of a tree and broke her arm. All of it."
"Must be nice."
He looked at her. "You really don't remember?"
"Nothing. Just static. Like someone erased the tape and started recording junior year of high school." She took another drink. "Jimmy and Ashley are the same way. They told me."
Nick nodded slowly. "I noticed. The way they look at each other when it comes up. Like they shared something they can't explain."
"What do you think it means?"
"I don't know." He met her eyes. "But I think they're good people. Both of them. Whatever's going on with their heads, it doesn't change who they are now."
Jenna thought about that. Thought about Derek, about how little she actually remembered of their life together. The broad strokes were there. Meeting, dating, marrying, but the details? The little moments? Gone.
"What's wrong with my head, Nick?" She asked quietly. "Why can't I remember?"
He reached over, and took her hand. His grip was warm, solid, real.
"I don't know. But I think you'll figure it out. And until you do, you've got us."
She looked at their joined hands. At his fingers wrapped around hers. At the way her heart was beating faster than it should.
"Nick..."
"I know." He squeezed her hand, then let go. "I know. You're not ready. I'm not pushing. Just... I wanted you to know."
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
They sat in silence, close enough to feel each other's warmth, and watched the stars.
Inside the camper, Jimmy lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The flash had come again during the ambush. A blurry image of a man's face, older weathered, with eyes that looked just like his own. It had lasted only a second, but it felt so real. So immediate.
It wasn't his memory. He knew that now with certainty.
It belonged to someone else. Someone who was out there, living, breathing, seeing things that Jimmy shouldn't be able to see.
He didn't know what it meant. He didn't know if it mattered.
But he knew with a certainty that sat cold in his gut, that it would happen again. And again. Until he understood.