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FIGHT OR FLIGHT: CHAPTER SIX—of road trips and roaming thoughtlessly.

❝you're not a judge but if you're gonna judge me, sentence me to another life.❞

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DEATH IS NO stranger. Look, for just a moment, into the eyes of your compatriots, and you will see that they, too, know that they might die.

And you know that you may suffer the same fate.

The graveyards surround you already—what isn't a graveyard when death looms so eternally? When the apocalypse has killed all around you? When you cannot hope to leave this place you call your home, despite it being covered by the thick scent of death?

You may push death away—vanquishing the idea of it from your mind entirely—but it will keep coming back, like a lingering habit that reappears whenever you're nervous, like the thought of sleeping in your mother's arms despite knowing that she's long gone, like that doubt that creeps up your spine, reminding you to not get too comfortable.

You cannot ignore death, because you are well acquainted with it.

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"We'll turn left up here," Pluto said, glancing down at the map in her hands then back up again. The town around them is eerily quiet but for the sound of tree leaves rustling in a dry, warm wind. Zane can't help but watch the empty storefronts, with their watchful, broken windows and abandoned goods, their doors still wide open.

He had survived the attack from the creature. Surely that meant something. Surely they're meant to be here, meant to lead this group of people. Surely that's what his living means.

Then why do they still feel so afraid?

The group kept walking. Pieces of hair fell out of Toby's ponytail, surrounding their face like a sort of spiky halo. She pushed a strand back, behind her ear, one hand gripping a metal pole she found back in the junkyard. Zane flicked his eyes away from them and back toward the horizon and its bright blue sky, hefting his baseball bat onto his shoulder.

No one spoke for quite some time. Probably because of the creatures. Not because everyone hated Zane. Although they had a sneaking suspicion that Toby did. He wondered where Venus, Toby's friend and Zane's ex-girlfriend, was. Did they get separated? Was Venus... no, they didn't want to think about that. He wondered if he should ask Toby about her. But that would probably end with a sucker-punch to Zane's jaw, or somewhere worse, and they figured they needed their strength for whatever comes ahead of them.

Zane then almost ran into Emery in front of him, who had stopped suddenly. Pluto stood still in front of them, looking around, their brows creased and their teeth biting at their lip. "Do you hear that?" she asked, glancing back.

Zane was about to shake their head no, but then they heard it: a faint rumbling, tires on the asphalt.

"Run," Emery said.

Zane began to protest, "But what if they can help?—" but Emery stopped him with "Trust me, they're not here to help us. I'll explain later. Run."

Toby nods, grabbing Zane's arm and forcing him to run with her. The car sounds are getting louder, closer, and Zane glances behind him to see three black Jeeps, in a sort of triangle position, like a flock of birds or a defensive position his coach would teach their team.

They're catching up to them.

But the Costco is right there, and the groups's inside the doors, and they're scrambling to find whatever they can—shopping carts, plasma TVs in cardboard boxes, children's play-sets, even a couch—to throw in front of the glass doors. It's a pile, a blockade, of random shit, but it's functional, and Zane can see the black Jeeps turn around and go back to wherever they came from.

Toby turns to Emery—they're both still panting, heaving for breath, and Toby's hair's fallen out even more, her hair a tangle framing her face—and says, simply, "Explain."

Emery takes a deep breath, wiping their nose. "Before we were at the junkyard, we—Kai and Viktoria and me—encountered these people. In the black Jeeps. They came after us too, we thought they were going to help us. They've got guns. Weapons. Loads of them."

Toby's eyebrows are raised, in interest or horror, Zane didn't know. "They searched us," Emery continues, "realized we had nothing, threatened to eat us—"

"What?!" Pluto's face is horror-struck. "The fuck?!"

"They were desperate, I guess," Emery amended. "It was all I could do to get them to let us go. And they did, thank God or whatever celestial being is watching over us during this hellscape. It wasn't until you two" —they glanced at Pluto and Zane, pointing a finger at each of them—"showed up that I realized Viktoria had stolen a gun from them. Guess they want their gun back."

"And will they keep coming after us? Until they get their gun?" Toby asked.

Emery shrugged. "I dunno. Probably. They don't seem like the kind of people who call it quits."

There was a silence then, a heavy, contemplative one, the kind where everyone knows they should say something but no one can find the words to.

Zane glanced over at Toby then, and for just a moment, her dark eyes met his. Then they said, "We need to move, then. Let's get out of here as fast as we can."

Pluto nodded. "Let's GO SHOPPING, THEN."

—the author speaks!

0.9k words.

hey !! i'm excited to come back from my hiatus and post this. tell me why i'm basing toby's character SO MUCH off of blue from trc. like i love blue and i did not realize these two were so similar until i wrote this chapter.

also thoughts on some of the world building ?? like what's a good zombie apocalypse without raiders in jeeps trying to steal from ppl and being unhinged in general. but that's just what california's like amirite.

anyway yes. thoughts ? opinions ? questions ? yes ? bye. ily.