5. Desperate Dawn #2
Jay glanced at her, then back to the road, nodding toward a collapsed barn. "The winter must've finished it off."
Seth leaned forward. "The weeds are taking over. Give it another year and you won't even know the barn was there."
Jay exhaled, long and low. "Give it a year, maybe two, and these roads will be forests again."
Cara didn't disagree. The idea haunted her—comforting and merciless all at once.
"It's like we're driving through a ghost story," she said.
Seth huffed a humorless laugh. "We kind of are."
But none of them spoke the thought that hovered in the cab between them, unsaid and undeniable: we're the ghosts now—haunting what used to be ours.
By mid-afternoon, the SUV crept toward what had once been a sprawling car lot. Seth leaned forward between the seats, scanning through the windshield. "Good sight lines. No movement."
Cara studied the edges of the property the way a hunter surveys a clearing before stepping into it. "No tracks. At least not fresh ones."
Jay nodded, the decision settling into place. “Well we better check it, we need a second vehicle and this looks as promising as anything.“
They rolled through the desolate parking lot and parked near the mechanic's bays, the SUV idling for a long second before Jay killed the engine.
Inside, Jay headed straight for the service hallway as though he already knew where to look, motioning the others to follow while Seth swept his flashlight across the abandoned clipboards still hanging from their hooks.
Jay pushed open the door to a small back room and let out a low whistle.
"Bingo."
A massive, rolling gas tank, the industrial kind dealerships used, stood tucked in a corner. It looked solid. Jay inspected its hose; the rubber was cracked but might hold. It was better than anything they could have hoped for.
"Look what I found," Jay said, slapping the side of the tank.
Seth circled the tank, clearly impressed. "We can siphon every car on this lot straight into it. Smart. Saves our cans for the road."
Jay jerked a thumb toward the bays. "We pull the SUV in there tonight. Stay hidden, we can secure the doors. Nobody passing by will ever know we're here."
Seth nodded without hesitation. “Its a good plan."
Cara pushed her hair back, her focus already on the next task. "First, let's find our second vehicle.”
“I agree, The keys should still be in the office." Jay was already walking towards the showroom door.
They walked across the dealership floor, the showroom an eerie graveyard of brand-new SUVs.
Lined in perfect rows like soldiers trapped in time, each was coated in a thin layer of dust, otherwise untouched, waiting for buyers who would never come.
Seth checked under visors, around steering columns, and inside glove boxes, finding nothing.
Jay headed for the sales office instead, stepping around fallen ceiling tiles. He kicked open a locked file cabinet, revealing a chaotic jumble of key fobs piled in a metal box.
"Got 'em," he called, tossing a set toward Cara. "Pick your favorite."
Outside, engines roared to life one by one, the sound jarring against the silence of the dead world. Seth checked tire pressure, fluids, and four-wheel drive on each candidate while Jay walked the perimeter.
After an hour of testing, Seth gave the hood of a dark blue Expedition a decisive pat. "This one. Strong engine, clean interior, huge tow rating."
Cara nodded her approval. "And plenty of space for supplies. Or for someone to sleep inside if it comes to that."
"We'll call her 'Beast.'" Jay joked.
As the sun dipped low, they rolled both the SUV and Beast into the service garage.
Seth secured the bay doors with chains from the back room, while Jay locked their vehicles and checked every window over.
Cara wheeled the fuel tank and propped her bow within arm's reach beside it, her eyes sharp even as the light faded.
By dusk, they had siphoned dozens of gallons, filling the big tank nearly halfway. The once-gleaming dealership stock now offered up its fuel to them, silent donors for their journey.
Seth wiped his hands on a rag. "We'll finish in the morning."
Jay closed the fuel cap on Beast and stepped back to survey their work. "Yeah. Tonight we keep the lights low. No noise.We don’t want to attract the infected or the living.”
Cara looked across the dim garage—at their old SUV, at Beast, at the fuel tanks standing like sentinels. They had a plan. They had resources. They could do this.
She looked from the fuel tanks to Beast, a tangible result of their day's work. The knot in her stomach hadn't vanished, but its grip had lessened.
As night finally settled over the abandoned dealership, the world outside slept. The quiet of early spring carried a sharp, biting quality.
Cara worked wordlessly beside the SUV, setting up the sleeping area in the back exactly as they'd planned.
She unrolled thick wool blankets, layered the insulated pads, and shook out the sleeping bags.
Slowly, the back of the SUV began to feel less like a vehicle and more like a refuge.
She even tucked her own coat into the corner as an extra pillow.
Across the bay, Seth did the same inside Beast, moving with slow, deliberate motions, his breath visible in the cool night air.
"I'll take first watch," he said, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
Jay nodded from near the passenger door. “That’s fine but wake me in three hours and I mean it Seth don’t be a hero we all need rest.”
Seth gave a brief nod and moved off into the shadows, rifle slung over his shoulder.
The moment the SUV's doors closed, the world outside softened into distant silence. The faint echo of Seth's footsteps faded.
Cara crawled into the sleeping nest she'd made, then glanced over her shoulder to watch Jay climb in behind her.
The interior lights stayed off, but a faint glow spilled through the tinted windows, washing everything in muted silver.
Jay stretched out beside her until their shoulders brushed, and his warmth seeped through the layers of blankets and clothing, grounding her instantly.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.
Cara nodded into the dark. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
He smiled faintly, brushing his fingers along her forearm—even that small touch carrying an intimacy she still hadn't grown used to. “Well don't hurt yourself."
She nudged him with her knee. "You're impossible."
“Well you look worried," he said.