Chapter Thirteen : Rath

The roads are crawling with the undead. I try to steer clear, but most of them seem dead set on chasing us. I need to get us somewhere safe. Fast. I veer toward the highway that runs past that deserted gas station. I've been there once.

“Why don’t you head toward the mall?” Cassie leans in close to my ear, her voice steady despite the chaos around us.

“Keep leaning in like that, sweetheart, and I’ll take you wherever you want,” I mutter, smirking.

She jerks back at that, and I catch her expression in the mirror--equal parts annoyed and amused. I pout like a child, just to mess with her.

“You’re not five, Rath,” she says, rolling her eyes. I grin wider.

“But seriously,” I say, sobering a little, “why the mall? I’m pretty sure that part of town’s squirming with zombies”

“Because we need supplies. Food, yeah--but water especially. We didn't refill our bottles at the gate,” she says, matter-of-fact.

“Well, lucky for us, this highway leads to a gas station. It’s deserted, has food, water, and gas. All in one stop. Safer too.”

She pauses, then nods. “Okay, that sounds good enough.” She pats my back once.

“What do I gotta do to earn more of those?” I ask, flashing her a sly look in the mirror.

“Maybe stop being such a cocky, disgusting b*****d all the time for starters” she says dryly.

I chuckle and keep driving.

I’ve taken girls on rides before, sure. But this? This feels different. Intimate, somehow. Too intimate. I wonder if one day she’ll wake up and realize she doesn’t want to stay. That is if she ever wanted me in the first place.

She barely talks about herself. We bicker about the dumbest crap, but I don’t know who she is underneath all that sarcasm. What does she care about? What scares her? What’s buried beneath that sharp tongue? But I’m not pushing. If I press too hard, she’ll shut down. I can feel it. So I’ll take it slow--painfully slow--if I want her to stay.

And I do.

The drive is smooth. Just like I expected--this highway's mostly abandoned. Most people never took it even when the world was still whole. I spot the gas station in the distance, its paint sun-bleached and windows half-boarded.

No movement. So far, so good.

I ease the bike to a stop, and Cassie hops off before I do. We walk toward the convenience store together.

“I’ll grab supplies, you fill the tank,” she says, turning to me. “Give me your bag--I’ll put some stuff in it too.”

“I don’t think splitting up is a great idea. Especially since you don’t have your chainsaw anymore. I'm coming with you,” I say, stepping in beside her.

She doesn’t argue. Just follows me in without a word. I push the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound in case something’s lurking inside. Silence. No groans, no shuffling. Just rows of still shelves and the faint buzz of a dying light overhead.

Cassie heads straight for the counter.

“I don’t think cash is worth anything anymore,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

She scoffs. “You sure do like to think so low of me. Gas stations get robbed all the time. A lot of them keep guns under the register.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna--”

“Found it.” She grins, holding up a pistol like a prize. Figures.

“Does it even have bullets?” I ask skeptically.

“Two in the chamber. And lucky me--ammo stash in the drawer too,” she says, tucking the gun into her waistband and slipping the ammo into her pockets.

“And when did we decide you get to keep it?”

“Finders, keepers,” she sings, walking past me toward the food section.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. Typical.

I head down the aisle for tools, figuring I’ll need something sharp or blunt--or both. Getting sick of this worn out curtain rod. This store’s bigger than your average gas station. That’s good for us. More stuff to scavenge. More places to hide, if we need to.

I find spray cans and lighters, my girl’s favorite--a chainsaw--along with a couple of wrenches and a crowbar. Needless to say, I’ll hand her the chainsaw and keep the rest for myself. Violent one, that girl.

I load everything into a cart and wheel it down the aisle, where she’s crouched in front of shelves stacked with Reese’s. Her expression is comically intense, like she’s choosing treasure. Give this girl chocolate and I swear she’d let you kidnap her.

I grab the chainsaw and head toward her. She glances up as I approach, her eyes lighting up instantly. “Is that for me?” she grins.

“This one runs on gas. Easy to refill and carry around,” I say, handing it over.

She takes it with glee, eyes gleaming as she inspects it. “Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Then I catch a glimpse of her basket.

“And you’re hoarding all the chocolate. Get stuff with actual nutrition--canned goods, protein bars.”

She visibly sulks. “Ugh, fine.”

“You can bring some. Just not a whole shelf.”

She sighs but starts scanning the shelves anyway.

At least now I know what to get her if we ever get into a fight.

“We should stay here for a while,” I say, looking around. “It’s safe. We’ve got food, weapons. Barely any zombies outside. It’s stupid to move around when we’ve got all this.”

“You wanna stay here forever?” she asks, raising a brow.

“It’s as safe as it gets. Do you have a better option?”

“No… but locking ourselves in sounds suffocating. And boring. Why the hell would I trap myself here forever--with you, no less?”

I smirk despite myself. “Because it’s survival. And there’s nothing better out there. Going outside is a suicide mission.”

“And we’ll never find something better if we never look--”

THUD.

We both freeze.

A dull sound echoes from the front glass. Another thump. Followed by a shadow moving across the window. I round the corner with the crowbar raised--only to see someone standing calmly outside.

A girl. Not infected. Just mildly annoyed that the door’s locked. Cassie appears behind me, baseball bat in hand. We’d barricaded the entrance just in case. Good thing we did. I move the blockade and unlock the door.

"Y’all hoarding all this by yourselves?" the girl snaps, her gaze sharp and accusing.

"We didn’t know anyone else was coming," I reply evenly. "We just wanted to keep the zombies out."

Cassie folds her arms, clearly bristling. "If that’s the case, we wouldn’t have bothered letting you in."

"Whatever," the girl mutters, brushing past us. She starts moving quickly through the aisles, stuffing her oversized bag with supplies.

"Hold up," I say, stepping toward her. "Who are you, and what exactly are you doing here?"

She barely spares me a glance. "Chloe. And if you can’t tell, I’m on a supply run."

"Are there others with you?"

She sighs, annoyed. "Yeah. A dozen or so. They sent me alone because they’re all cowards. We’re all starving. People are already fighting over the scraps. I figured I’d hit this store. Now, are you done interrogating me? I’ve got mouths to feed."

The idea of other people--even just the thought of not being alone anymore--lights something up inside me.

"Can we come with you?"

Cassie turns to me, clearly taken aback. "And why would we do that?"

"Because more people means better chances of survival."

She scoffs. "More people means more chaos. More ways to die."

"Can we come with you, Chloe?" I ask again, ignoring Cassie. We’re not turning down a chance like this just to rot in a gas station.

"Sure," Chloe says with a shrug. "Just bring your own food. And pack some extra for my group. I can’t carry it all."

While she keeps gathering supplies, I pull Cassie aside.

"Cassie, come on. This is our best shot. It just makes sense. We’ve got a better chance at survival with others. Why can’t you see that?"

She shakes her head. "Because these are people we don’t know, Rath. People we can’t trust. And from what Chloe’s saying, when things get tight, they’ll throw us under the bus without blinking."

"So I can go with Chloe--be part of something, survive with others, maybe even have a purpose. Or I can stay here with you which is not even something you want, because you want to go explore and risk dying out there"

And just like that, we’re at a crossroads.

Cassie doesn’t say a word. She just stands there--quiet, unreadable. I know that silence. I know what it means. She doesn’t like where this is going.

But she’s not stopping me either.

And the truth is--I’m tired. I don’t want to keep fighting zombies every damn day like it’s some kind of thrill ride. I don’t want to flirt with death on a regular basis just to feel alive. I want stability. Shelter. A permanent home. A place where survival doesn’t feel like gambling with loaded dice.

I want a community. I want a life. I want a purpose. I want her…

But the fact that she’s okay being alone--that she doesn’t feel the same pull, the same desperate ache to stay close--that says it all, doesn’t it?

Why didn’t I see it before? We’re too different for forevers.

She doesn’t need me. Maybe she never did.

"You guys comin’ or what? I gotta be back soon," Chloe calls, impatience lacing her voice.

I hesitate for a breath--and then move.

"Wait up. I’m coming," I say, grabbing my backpack and a couple of weapons I’d stashed.

I don’t look back. Because if I look at her, even once, I won’t be able to leave.

But when the person you love wants a different life than yours, you don’t hold them back. You set them free. That realization slams into me with quiet finality, leaving a dull, spreading ache inside my chest.

"What about her?" Chloe asks, jerking her chin in Cassie’s direction.

"I’m not coming," Cassie says quietly, heading back to the counter where her bag sits.

And then--"Wait a minute, Rath."

My heart stumbles. Please. Say something. Anything. Ask me to stay. Tell me not to go. I’ll drop everything if you do. I’ll follow you into hell if you just tell me you want me to stay.

She walks over and presses a small box into my hands.

"Open it later. Tonight maybe. Promise me you won’t open it until then."

"I won’t," I say, my voice almost breaking. A parting gift. Of course.

"Take care, Cass. See you around," I say, even though I know I won’t.

"Gosh, so much drama," Chloe mutters as she walks out.

I glance at the bike we rode here on. I guess it’s hers now. She’s the one who wanted to keep exploring anyway. I taught her the basics. She’ll manage.

I don’t know how long it’ll take to adjust to a life without her. Will I ever see her again?

Maybe not.

So this is goodbye. I can’t force someone to feel the way I do. All I can do now is carry this weight and hope it gets lighter someday.

"How do we get there?" I ask, just to keep myself from falling apart.

"Walk out the back of the store, follow the trail till you hit a junction. Take a right. The farmhouse isn’t far," Chloe replies.

A farmhouse. Secluded. Safe. A fresh start.

I nod. Sounds good. Sounds survivable. Then why does every step I take feel like a fracture spreading through my chest?