Night swallowed the road without warning.

One moment the horizon still held a faint bruise of dying daylight—then it vanished, as if the world had drawn a curtain closed. The cracked highway stretched endlessly through barren land, its surface scarred and uneven, winding between low, silent hills. No buildings. No trees. No lights. Just emptiness.

Above them, the sky opened wide.

Clouds drifted lazily, thin enough to reveal a spill of stars—cold, distant, impossibly bright. They glittered like shattered glass scattered across velvet black, indifferent to the ruined earth below. The stars felt ancient. Untouched. Watching.

The truck’s headlights carved two narrow tunnels through the darkness, illuminating broken asphalt and scattered debris before swallowing it again. The engine rumbled steadily beneath them—deep, mechanical, almost comforting, as if promising it wouldn’t fail them now.

Then—

Clank.

Something rang out—sharp, wrong, and sudden.

The truck jerked violently, throwing everyone forward.

Chisato stumbled, grabbing the railing just in time.

“Wah—! Okay, no—was that a rock,” she said, blinking hard, “or did the truck just sneeze?”

Around her, the others stirred.

Shimon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, jaw hardening.

“…That wasn’t a rock.”

The engine sputtered.

Once.

Twice.

Then it died.

The silence that followed was crushing.

No engine. No wind. No insects.

Just the vast, open night pressing in from all sides.

The truck rolled forward helplessly for a few meters before grinding to a complete stop.

Rokuro stared ahead, blinking slowly.

“…So,” he said weakly, “anyone else feeling personally betrayed right now?”

Johnny was already unbuckling. “Lights off. Now.”

The headlights clicked out.

Darkness rushed in, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint silver glow of the moon slipping through clouds. The stars above seemed brighter now—too bright—like they were staring.

Shu swallowed hard, fingers clutching his jacket.

“…Middle of nowhere… at night…” His voice trembled despite his effort. “That’s bad, right?”

Johnny stepped down from the truck, flashlight in hand, his voice low but steady.

“It’s bad,” he said. “Really bad. But we’ll figure it out.”

Aria followed him, her sniper ready, flashlight sweeping slowly across the empty land. Her breath fogged faintly in the cool air.

“It’s… really dark,” she murmured. “I can’t even tell where we are.”

Garfiel jumped down from the truck as well, turning in a slow circle as he scanned the area with his flashlight.

“I—I don’t really know either. That’s not a great sign… but I don’t see any zombies. Just trees. A lot of dark trees,” he said, unease creeping into his voice.

Chisato jumped down next, stretching dramatically despite the tension.

“Okay! Emergency pit stop!” She looked at the truck accusingly.

“Who forgot to feed you, huh?”

Takina landed beside her silently, already scanning the engine area.

“Something overheated.”

Rokuro hopped down last, cracking his neck.

“I knew it. I knew this thing would betray us.”

He jabbed a thumb toward the truck. “I warned you all.”

Shimon shut the driver’s door harder than necessary.

“You warned no one.”

Rokuro pointed accusingly. “I warned. Spiritually.”

Johnny raised a hand. “Focus. Rokuro. Shimon. Check the engine.”

“I’m doing it.”

“No, I am.”

They spoke at the same time.

They turned slowly, glaring at each other under the pale moonlight, shadows stretching long behind them.

Johnny sighed. “Both of you.”

They crouched at the hood.

Rokuro immediately reached in, poking at wires. “So what if we just—”

“Don’t touch that,” Shimon snapped sharply.

Rokuro smirked. “You say that about everything.”

Shimon slapped his hand away. “You don’t experiment on engines!”

Rokuro shoved him lightly. “It’s called intuition!”

Their voices rose, sharp against the silence.

Shu hovered nearby, eyes darting into the darkness.

“…Um,” he whispered, anxiety creeping in, “maybe we should… be quiet?”

Chisato tilted her head, listening to them bicker. “Are they… fighting again?”

Takina answered flatly, “Yes.”

Delta hopped down from the truck, her sniper already in her hands, instinctively steady. She listened for a second as Rokuro and Shimon arguing as their voices carrying farther than they should have.

Her nose wrinkled slightly.

“…Are those two always like this?” she muttered, clearly unimpressed.

Takina turned sharply, shooting them a glare sharp enough to cut through the dark.

“Always,” she said flatly. “And always too loud.”

Aria crouched near the rear of the truck, flashlight aimed underneath.

“Fuel line seems intact,” she said carefully. “But the pressure’s wrong.”

Johnny knelt beside her, lowering his voice. “You see something specific?”

Aria nodded, her heart racing. The cold night air brushed her cheeks, but they still warmed—partly from nerves, partly from how close he was.

“M-maybe,” she said softly. “Something’s jammed.”

She reached in, fingers brushing cold metal. The surface scraped against her skin as she tried to pull it free. She tugged again—nothing.

“It won’t move,” she whispered, frustration and unease creeping into her voice.

Chisato immediately dropped beside her. “Okay—teamwork time!”

She grabbed the part and pulled with all her might.

Nothing.

“…Why is everything heavy in the apocalypse,” she muttered, frustrated.

Takina stepped closer, eyes sharp.

“Move.”

Chisato scooted aside instantly. “Yes ma’am.”

Takina examined the underside with practiced calm.

“Coolant valve is jammed. Debris lodged inside.”

Aria’s eyes widened with understanding.

“That would explain the overheating… and the shutdown.”

Chisato nodded sagely. “So the truck fainted.”

“Yes,” Takina replied evenly. “Basically.”

Garfiel leaned over to see what the girls were talking about, squinting at the mess of parts for a second before his expression went blank. He straightened, clearly lost, then glanced back at Johnny, flashlight clutched in his hand.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. I don’t understand a damn thing about engines,” he said with a small, awkward chuckle

He lifted the light slightly, scanning the dark.

“I’ll just keep watch—make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Johnny nodded, a faint smile crossing his face.

“Sounds good,” he said calmly. “I’m counting on you.”

Garfiel swallowed, then nodded back, posture straightening as he turned toward the trees, the beam of his flashlight cutting into the darkness.

Meanwhile—

Rokuro had climbed halfway into the engine bay. “See? I told you it’s—HEY!”

Shimon yanked him back hard. “You’re doing it wrong.”

Rokuro stumbled. “There is no wrong! You just hate my method!”

Shimon shoved him again, voice tight.

“Your method is chaos, Rokuro. You are reckless.”

Rokuro shoved back harder. “Your method is stupid!”

Johnny’s voice sliced through the night.

“Enough.”

Both froze instantly.

Johnny pointed toward the rear. “They found the problem.”

Rokuro blinked. “…They did?”

Shimon looked away slightly. “…Of course they did.”

Takina spoke calmly, matter-of-fact. “We need to clear the valve and refill coolant. Otherwise it’ll happen again.”

Chisato glanced at the boys, then grabbed Shu by the sleeve with a grin.

“Kid, you’re promoted. Flashlight duty.”

Shu startled.

“Huh—me?” But he nodded, holding the light steady as Aria worked.

Rokuro leaned toward Shimon, lowering his voice. “You know.”

Shimon sighed quietly. “Yes. We weren’t chosen because we can’t be trusted.”

Aria worked carefully, fingers straining.

“I need leverage.”

Rokuro brightened. “Finally! My moment!”

Shimon grabbed his collar instantly.

“You’ll break it.”

“I will fix it!”

They started arguing again mid-repair.

Chisato frowned sharply.

“Guys! Please don’t kill each other while we’re under a truck!”

Takina lifted a wrench and fixed them both with a dead, emotionless stare.

“Or we leave you.”

Silence. That shut them up.

Delta let out a soft chuckle, brief but warm, then settled back into focus. She raised her sniper slightly, resting it against her shoulder as her eyes tracked the darkness beyond the headlights.

Rokuro muttered, “…Rude.”

With a careful twist, Aria dislodged the debris. Takina secured the valve smoothly. Shu handed tools with shaking but focused hands.

Johnny stood watch, flashlight sweeping the endless dark, ears tuned for any sound that didn’t belong.

“Done,” Takina said finally.

Aria exhaled, wiping her hands. “Refill coolant.”

Rokuro lunged for the container. “I’ve got—”

Shimon grabbed it first. “I will.”

Their hands collided.

They glared.

“…Rock-paper-scissors?” Rokuro offered.

Shimon stared at him. “…No.”

Johnny said simply, “Shimon.”

Rokuro sagged. “…Fine.”

Coolant poured in, glugging softly into place. The hood of the truck slammed shut with a solid clang.

Shimon climbed back into the driver’s seat, wiping his hands on his jacket. The cab fell quiet.

Everyone held their breath.

He turned the key.

The engine sputtered, coughed, hesitated.

Chisato clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles went white.

“Come on… come on…”

Then the engine roared back to life, loud and unapologetic.

Cheers burst out all at once.

“Yes!”
“It works!”
“We’re alive!”

Rokuro threw his arms up. “YES—finally!”

Shimon let out a slow breath and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

“…Yeah,” he said. “It’s good.”

Johnny climbed into the passenger seat and glanced back at them
.
“Good work. All of you.”

At that, the last of the fear melted away.
The truck rolled forward again, headlights cutting a clean path through the dark road. Above them, the stars burned quietly—distant, steady, watching.

The world was still broken. The night was still dangerous.

But inside the truck, with the engine running and everyone still together, they kept moving forward.

Soon, the truck settled into a steady rhythm, and one by one the others drifted into uneasy sleep. Bodies slumped against the metal sides, breath evening out despite the constant vibration of the road.

Shimon stayed at the wheel. Johnny remained awake in the passenger seat, eyes forward, alert.

The engine hummed as Shimon shifted gears smoothly, guiding the truck through a graveyard of burned vehicles.

Twisted frames and melted tires lined the highway. He eased past them carefully, hands firm on the wheel.

“I think we might reach Tokyo port in a few weeks,” Shimon said quietly. “If we keep moving like this.”

Johnny nodded. That’s good, he thought. If anything still works there.

Shimon glanced at him briefly while downshifting, eyes never leaving the road for long.

“You look lost in thought. What’s going on?”

Johnny rested his elbow against the door, fingers tapping once against the glass.

“Just thinking,” he said. “About what happens after. A port doesn’t guarantee a boat. And even if we find one…”

He paused. “I don’t know. Maybe something smaller. A speedboat, maybe.”

Shimon shook his head almost immediately.

“Not a chance,” he said. “A speedboat won’t survive storms. Or open water. And we’re talking about New Zealand. That’s not a short hop.”

Johnny exhaled. “Right.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Shimon continued, steady and practical.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there. Chisato and Takina know vehicles. If there’s something usable, they’ll find it.”

Johnny turned his gaze to the window.
Beyond the headlights, shapes moved in the distance—large clusters of bodies, slow and endless, drifting between wrecks and trees. A horde. Too many to count. The road ahead narrowed as the dark pressed in from both sides.

“Yeah,” Johnny said quietly. “Let’s just focus on getting there.”

Shimon nodded and drove on, the truck pushing forward through the ruins, carrying them closer to hope—or whatever waited at the end of the road.