Jordan smirked as he lay on his side, facing Ben in the dimly lit room. The faint glow of the moon seeped through the blinds, casting shadows over the furniture. His voice carried a mix of confidence and pride.

"Don't worry, little Ben. My dad will figure out a way out of here," Jordan assured him, glancing toward Andrew, whose massive frame took up most of the couch.

Ben hesitated, pulling his blanket up a little higher as he whispered back. "I think he'll need my dad's help too..." His voice was softer, but there was an edge of certainty to it.

Jordan squinted at Ben, tilting his head slightly. "Well... your dad is cool and all, but come on," he muttered, nodding toward Andrew, careful not to sound too dismissive. He knew Timothy was part of this equation, but he couldn't shake his bias.

Ben frowned slightly, shifting his position. "Yeah... well, your dad is cool too," he admitted, though he still felt more secure knowing his own father was watching out for him. His eyes flickered toward Andrew, who was resting with his arms crossed, trying to ignore the chatter.

Andrew let out a low grunt, barely opening his eyes. "You two need to go to bed," he muttered, his voice deep and heavy with exhaustion. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Jordan sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling. "Sorry, Dad... it's just hard to sleep right now," he admitted. His fingers idly traced the fabric of his blanket, his mind restless. He couldn't stop thinking about what might be outside-how flimsy the fence in the backyard seemed in his imagination.

Andrew shifted slightly, glancing at his smart watch. The screen glowed faintly, showing 36% battery. A reminder that soon, even this small convenience would be gone.

"I'll worry about that later," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes before turning on his side.

Jordan swallowed. The house was quiet, too quiet. The silence only made the distant memories of growling and screaming harder to ignore. He turned his head back toward Ben, who was still wide-eyed.

Andrew sighed and ran a hand over his face. "It's okay," he said, his voice softer this time. "Just stop talking and try to get some sleep. You both need it."

Jordan and Ben exchanged a glance but didn't respond. Neither of them really believed that rest would come easily tonight.

Ben looked at his sister Angela for help, but she was sound asleep.

He couldn't understand how she managed to rest so easily after spending the entire day worrying about Evan. Maybe she hadn't been as concerned as she let on. Maybe it was just for show-just another way she tried to present herself as perfect.

She always cared too much about appearances, about how others saw her. It was something that had always annoyed Ben.

Yet here she was, asleep, while he lay wide awake.

"Why can't I just fall asleep too?" he muttered to himself, shifting uncomfortably on the floor.

Maybe it was because he wasn't in a bed. But that didn't make much sense-Angela was on the same floor, in the same spot, and yet she had no trouble slipping into unconsciousness.

Ben sighed, rolling onto his side, when suddenly a voice broke the silence. At first, he expected it to be Andrew again, telling them to shut up.

"Well... if you can't sleep, you can still talk to me. I can't sleep either," Jordan said.

For once, his voice lacked its usual smugness. Despite always trying to act tough, Jordan was just as on edge as Ben.

Ben hesitated, glancing at Jordan. He wasn't used to talking to older kids like this.

"I guess so... I am really tired, though," he admitted with a shrug.

Jordan rolled his eyes. "So am I, but that doesn't mean I can just fall asleep."

Ben blinked a few times before nodding slightly. He supposed that made sense.

"Well... what is there even to talk about?" Ben asked, shrugging again.

He wasn't sure what kids usually talked about. He had never been one to make small talk, and honestly, Jordan was the kind of kid he always thought was too cool for him.

"I don't know... Do you like video games?" Jordan asked, shifting on his stomach and propping his chin on his hands.

Ben hesitated again. "Not really... I mean, I like them, but-" He trailed off, suddenly unsure.

"But what? You're telling me you don't play video games that much?" Jordan stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ben looked away. He could already tell Jordan thought he was weird.

"Well... I like them, but my parents don't let me play much. They want me to focus on learning," Ben said, feeling the need to defend himself.

Jordan scoffed. "What the hell is learning math gonna do for us now? You think we're gonna sit here and count how many zombies are chasing us?" He shook his head. "If anything, Call of Duty would've been better training for this crap."

Ben frowned, confused. "Call of Duty?" He tilted his head. "What's that?"

Jordan's eyes widened in shock.

"Man... This kid really has been hidden away, huh?"

For the first time, Jordan felt a little bad for Ben. Maybe he shouldn't have been so mean to him earlier. The kid clearly didn't know much about the world outside his family's bubble.

And maybe... maybe Ben wasn't the only one who needed a friend right now.

A long silence stretched between them.

"Hello?" Ben asked, his voice small, his eyes searching Jordan's face. "You gonna tell me or what?"

Jordan blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. He nodded, shifting his position on the floor.

"It's a shooting game... lots of guns and stuff," Jordan explained, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "But it's got this mode where you fight waves of zombies. You just keep going, round after round, trying not to get eaten."

Ben's eyes grew a little wider. "So... like the guns we heard at the hotel? Like the one Richard has?"

The mention of gunfire sent a shiver down Ben's spine. He remembered how loud it had been, how the sounds had echoed through the hotel halls. The memory of Richard tucking that pistol into his pocket hadn't exactly made him feel any safer either.

"Uh... yeah. Kinda like those," Jordan said, rubbing his chin. "Except that's real. The guns in Call of Duty don't run out of bullets unless you're bad at managing ammo."

He smirked, but Ben didn't seem to share his amusement. The younger boy was still looking over at Richard, who sat silently by the back porch, staring out into the night. The businessman had given up his bed for Tyler and Jackson, but sleep clearly wasn't coming to him.

"Richard didn't always have that gun, though," Jordan added, watching Ben's reaction. "He took it from someone's room back at the hotel."

Ben frowned. "So... he stole it?"

Jordan hesitated. "I mean, yeah, I guess... but it's not like the guy who owned it was coming back for it."

At least, Jordan hoped that was the case. He didn't want to think about the other possibility-that they were hanging around a guy who had killed for it.

The thought made him chuckle dryly, almost involuntarily.

Ben tilted his head. "Why is that funny?"

Jordan's smirk faded. He followed Ben's gaze back to Richard, still unmoving, still watching the darkness beyond the porch.

"Nothin'," Jordan muttered, shaking his head. "Just a nervous laugh."

Ben looked even more confused. "What's a nervous laugh?"

Jordan exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his face with both hands. This kid asks so many damn questions...

"It's when you laugh 'cause you don't know what else to do," Jordan said flatly. "Like when stuff's weird or scary, and you don't wanna freak out."

Ben nodded slowly, seeming to process that. "Oh... do you do that a lot?"

Jordan paused. His first instinct was to snap back with something sarcastic, but he held back.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "More than I used to."

The room fell into silence again, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. Richard remained by the porch, lost in thought. And outside, in the pitch-black night, the world waited.

"Well... maybe we should go to sleep then," Ben said hesitantly, casting a glance at Andrew. The man was snoring softly now, his exhaustion finally overtaking him. Ben almost envied how easily he had drifted off.

"You think I haven't tried?" Jordan muttered, staring at the floor. "I still can't."

Ben sighed, shifting on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yeah... me neither."

Jordan let out a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. Then, an idea struck him.

"Well..." he said, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "We can always tell spooky stories."

Ben frowned. "Spooky stories? How is that gonna help us sleep?" He shivered at the thought. "That's just gonna make it worse."

Jordan rolled his eyes, already regretting trying to make the kid have some fun. "Dude, stop asking so many damn questions. Just let me tell my story. Then you tell one. We'll see who has the scariest."

Ben hesitated. He didn't want to hear something scary, not after everything they had already seen. But Jordan looked dead set on it, and Ben didn't want to argue.

"Fine... go ahead," Ben mumbled, already bracing himself.

Jordan grinned, stretching his arms behind his head as he prepared to speak. He knew, no matter what, he was gonna win.

Ben, on the other hand, wished he had never agreed to this.

Jordan smirked, scooting a little closer to Ben as he prepared to tell his tale.

"Alright, listen up," he whispered, making his voice low and serious. "This is a story my cousin told me once. And it's real-like, actually real."

Ben gulped but stayed quiet.

Jordan glanced around the room, making sure none of the adults were listening. Then, he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"So, there was this kid named Tommy, right? He lived in a house, kinda like this one-big, dark at night, with windows that looked out into the woods. And every night, when he went to bed, he'd hear this noise-tap, tap, tap-on his window."

Ben blinked. "Maybe it was just the wind?"

Jordan shot him an annoyed look. "Dude, don't interrupt. Anyway, at first, Tommy thought the same thing. He told his mom, but she said it was just the tree outside. Except... Tommy didn't have a tree outside his window."

Ben's face scrunched up in confusion. "Then what was-"

"Stop talking and let me finish," Jordan snapped, lowering his voice even more. "So, the next night, he hears it again-tap, tap, tap. But this time, it's louder. And it happens every single night. He gets too scared to look, so he just hides under his blankets. But one night... he finally decides he's gonna be brave."

Ben's breath hitched. He was already regretting letting Jordan tell this story.

"So Tommy rolls over in bed real slow, and he looks at the window..." Jordan dragged out the pause for effect. "...And there's a man standing there."

Ben's eyes went wide.

Jordan grinned. He had him now.

"The man is tall, really, really tall, and his face is all wrong-like his mouth is too big, and his eyes are just... empty. He's tapping on the glass with these long, gross fingers, and he's smiling at Tommy."

Ben whimpered. "D-Does Tommy scream?"

"Nope," Jordan said smugly. "He can't. He's too scared. He just stares at the man. And the man? He waves at him."

Ben shuddered.

"And the worst part?" Jordan continued, leaning in close. "Tommy's house is on the third floor. There's no way the man could be standing outside his window. But there he is."

Ben pulled his blanket up to his chin.

"So what happened next?" he whispered.

Jordan shrugged. "Nobody knows. Tommy's parents found his window open the next morning, but Tommy? Gone. No footprints, no nothing. Just gone."

Ben swallowed hard, hugging his knees.

"Now," Jordan said, stretching his arms. "Let's hear your story."

Ben opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was blank-except for the image of that grinning man outside the window.

"I... I don't think I wanna tell one," Ben finally admitted.

Jordan smirked, satisfied. "Guess that means I win."

Ben just curled up tighter under his blanket. Suddenly, the idea of going to sleep didn't seem so hard anymore.

Ben felt horrified by the story that Jordan had told. His eyes drifted toward the back porch, where Richard stood, silhouetted against the dim glow of the night. He wasn't unnaturally tall, nor did he have an eerie grin plastered across his face, but something about his stillness unsettled Ben. The way he barely moved, just staring out into the darkness-it sent a cold shiver crawling down his spine.

Ben swallowed hard, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin. He didn't want to keep talking. He just wanted to forget Jordan's story and pretend the world outside wasn't as terrifying as it actually was.

"I'm going to try to go to sleep now," Ben muttered, though he wasn't sure he actually could. Not with Richard standing so close, not with the dead lurking somewhere beyond the fences.

Jordan blinked a few times, looking almost disappointed. "Seriously? You're not gonna tell a story back?"

Ben shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jordan sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Alright... Sleep tight, then. Don't let the bedbugs bite." His voice took on a sing-song quality, mimicking what his mom always told him at night.

Except she hadn't said it the last few nights. She barely said anything to him anymore.

Ben shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think the bedbugs are what I should be worried about biting me..." he whispered to himself, too low for anyone else to hear.

Jordan didn't respond, already settling into his blanket.

Richard remained motionless by the back porch, his gaze locked on the unseen world outside. Ben stared at him for a few more moments, his heartbeat slow and heavy.

Then, despite the fear twisting in his stomach, sleep finally took him.

---

The warm scent of food filled the air, a stark contrast to the suffocating stress that had hung over the house since they arrived. Angela groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. Her whole body ached from sleeping on the floor, her joints stiff and uncooperative.

She squinted at the old clock hanging on the wall.

6:00 AM.

She exhaled through her nose, groggy and irritated. "What the hell...?" she muttered, sniffing the air.

It smelled good-too good. For a split second, she almost believed she was back home, waking up to the sound of her mom making breakfast before school. Then the memories of the last few days hit her all over again, wiping away the illusion.

A voice called from the kitchen, snapping her further awake.

"Me and Julie are making breakfast, honey! Would you like to help out?"

Angela turned toward the kitchen, spotting her mother moving around with way too much energy for this early in the morning. The bright tone in Allison's voice was forced-too cheerful, too normal.

Angela frowned. Why is she acting like this is just another morning?

She hesitated before shaking her head. "No, thanks. I'm gonna take a shower."

Allison turned from the stove, her hands still gripping the spoon she had been using to stir the pot. Her expression faltered for half a second, the corners of her mouth twitching down before she forced another smile.

"Aw, come on, Angela! You can do that after food is served!"

Angela crossed her arms, already feeling her mother's persistence creeping in. She exhaled, running a hand through her tangled hair.

"I'd rather shower first, Mom. I'm covered in sweat, and I reek," she said, trying not to sound snappy but failing just a little. "Besides, I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to clean up."

She glanced at the others still sprawled across the floor and couches, most of them dead asleep. Even Richard, the one she had expected to wake up early, was leaning against the back door, eyes barely open.

Allison let out a sigh. "Angela, honey, I just think-"

"What, Mom?" Angela interrupted, tilting her head. "You think what? That if I help you cook, everything will feel normal?"

That stung. Allison's expression shifted, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Julie, who had been quietly focused on chopping up something on the counter, finally spoke up.

"Let her shower, Allison," she said, not even looking up from the cutting board. "If we're leaving in a couple of hours, it might be the last one we get for a while."

Allison hesitated before sighing again. "Fine. Just don't take too long, alright?"

Angela nodded, turning toward the hallway.

Ben stirred from where he had been sleeping near the couch, rubbing his eyes as he groggily sat up. "What's going on...?"

"Your sister's ditching us for a shower," Allison muttered, stirring the pot a little too aggressively.

Ben blinked a few times before frowning at Angela. "Can I go after you?"

Angela groaned. "Ugh, fine, but don't be standing at the door waiting for me like a creep."

Ben smirked. "No promises."

Angela rolled her eyes, grabbing a change of clothes from one of the bags before walking toward the bathroom.

Allison muttered something under her breath, shaking her head as she turned back to the food.

Julie finally looked up at her. "Let her be, Allison."

Allison shook her head. "I just want one normal morning. Just one."

Julie softened. "I know."

Angela, hearing them from the hallway, exhaled as she reached the bathroom.

She turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to heat up.

Her mom was right about one thing.

They might not get another morning like this again.

Timothy stepped out of the bathroom, rolling his shoulders with a relieved sigh. The steam clung to his skin, a temporary warmth before the cool morning air bit at him. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the exhaustion from the past few days.

Ben flinched at the sudden noise of the door creaking open. His heart leaped for a split second, but when he saw his father, relief washed over him. A smile crept onto his face as he hurried over.

"Dad!" Ben beamed, wrapping his arms around his father's waist. The warmth of his dad's presence made him feel safer than he had all night.

Timothy chuckled, ruffling his son's dry, messy hair. "Hey, kiddo! You're already up and running? I figured you'd still be drooling on the floor."

Ben wrinkled his nose. "Ew, I don't drool," he protested, but his mind was already elsewhere. He glanced toward the hallway, where the bathroom door had recently closed behind Angela.

"Where's your sister?" Timothy asked, noticing the shift in his son's focus.

Ben shrugged. "She went to take a shower. She was acting kinda weird this morning."

Timothy sighed. "Yeah... Your sister's got a lot on her mind." He could only imagine what Angela was thinking about-probably Evan, probably what their future looked like now.

"Are you gonna take a shower too?" Timothy asked, nodding toward the second bathroom.

Ben hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Is it... safe in there?" he asked, glancing nervously at the tiny window near the ceiling. It wasn't big enough for anything-or anyone-to fit through, but that didn't stop his imagination from running wild.

Timothy knelt to his son's level, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Ben. It's safe," he assured him. "There's nothing in there, and nothing's getting in there, either."

Ben still looked unsure, his lips pressing into a tight line. Jordan, who had been half-awake listening to the exchange, suddenly muttered from his spot on the floor.

"If something does get in there, just scream really loud," Jordan smirked. "We'll come scrape you off the walls after."

Ben paled. "That's not funny!"

Timothy shot Jordan a warning look, but Jordan just grinned. "What? He asked."

"Jordan," Timothy said, his voice carrying an edge. Jordan immediately looked away, shrugging.

Ben swallowed, looking back at the bathroom door. He didn't want to go in, but he also didn't want to be the only one skipping out. He inhaled sharply, then nodded.

"O-okay... If you say so."

"Attaboy," Timothy said, ruffling his hair again. "Go on, I'll be out here. And when you're done, there'll be a nice breakfast waiting for you."

Ben's stomach rumbled at the thought, and despite his nerves, he managed a small nod. Without another word, he turned and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Timothy watched the door for a moment, letting out a soft breath. As soon as he turned, he was met with the expectant faces of Allison and Julie in the kitchen.

"Well?" Allison asked. "Everything alright?"

Timothy nodded, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah, he's just on edge... We all are."

"Well, aren't we all?" Julie muttered from over the stove.

Timothy ignored the comment, instead stepping toward the kitchen. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Allison immediately brightened. "You can cut the hash browns! There's a knife on the counter."

Timothy looked at the large sacks of raw potatoes stacked on the counter. There was a lot of them.

"Alright," he sighed, rolling up his sleeves. "Guess I better get started before we're here all day."

"Atta boy!" Allison said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Timothy.

Timothy ignored her, focusing on cutting into the potatoes, carefully slicing them into thin pieces.

---

In the other room, Jackson was helping Tyler get dressed. Much like Richard, he had gotten no sleep at all last night. He had spent the entire night watching his son, unable to shake the unease gnawing at him.

Tyler, however, had slept just fine. Now, Jackson was making sure his son looked good before sending him off to start the day.

"Alright, Tyler! Let me know if you like it. I can always change it up if you want," Jackson said, stepping aside so his son could check himself in the mirror.

Tyler's eyes widened as he took in his reflection. His mouth parted in a surprised gasp.

"Wow, Dad! I-I look amazing!" he blurted out, barely able to contain his excitement. He almost wanted to bolt out of the room right then and there.

Maybe Angela was awake by now. If she saw him like this, she'd surely be impressed.

He kind of liked her. She was kind, had a good spirit, and-most of all-she was beautiful.

Tyler drifted into his thoughts, but before he could lose himself completely, Jackson smacked his shoulder lightly, snapping him back to reality.

"You sure do," Jackson said with a smirk. "And I promise you, every morning that we're together, I'll make sure you look your best."

He had read the files the hospital had sent over, trying to understand his son better. Tyler was a nervous kid-introverted, shy, shorter than most boys his age. In many ways, he reminded Jackson of himself when he was younger.

"Thanks, Dad! You're awesome!" Tyler grinned, his face lighting up with genuine joy. He still didn't know his father all that well, but what he had seen so far...

He had watched Jackson take charge, leading an unorganized, chaotic group through the nightmare of the hotel. The others before them hadn't made it-Tyler had seen the bodies, the familiar faces left behind in the lobby.

But Jackson had.

And that meant something.

"You're even more awesome," Jackson said, brushing Tyler's hair one last time. "Now, how about you go play with the other kids, grab something to eat, and let me get ready?"

Tyler nodded eagerly, then turned and left the room, a new sense of confidence in his step.

---

Got it! Here's your scene with increased dialogue, natural flow, and smooth paragraph structure while staying within your original boundaries:

---

Tyler stepped into the main room, but no one seemed to register his presence. The adults were caught up in their own conversations, and Richard-he was still in the same spot, standing by the glass window, staring outside like he was expecting the world to collapse at any moment. He hadn't spoken a single word all morning.

Tyler hesitated before stepping toward the kitchen, where Allison and Julie were chatting while preparing breakfast. Before he could reach them, Timothy caught sight of him.

"Oh! Hey, Tyler! Looking sharp, champ!" Timothy greeted with a grin, setting his knife down for a moment. He gave the boy a once-over, nodding in approval. "Your dad not out yet?"

Tyler hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. "No... he's still getting ready. He helped me."

Timothy's grin widened slightly. "Well, he did a good job," he said, turning back to the counter. "Guess he's got an eye for style, huh?"

Tyler gave a small smile, though he still felt a little embarrassed. He wasn't used to this much attention.

"That's good, though," Timothy continued, carefully slicing another potato. "A fresh start. He seems like a good man."

Tyler wasn't sure how to respond. He barely knew his father-was he a good man? He didn't know. He only knew that last night, his dad had come back for him. That had to count for something.

Before he could say anything, another door creaked open on the other side of the house.

Heads turned.

"Dad!" Jordan's voice rang out, breaking the quiet hum of the room. He jumped up from where he had been sitting and ran straight toward Andrew.

Andrew barely had time to react before Jordan collided with him. He blinked in surprise, awkwardly wrapping his arms around his son. Jordan never did this-not in front of people. If anything, the kid went out of his way to act distant, like he didn't want anyone to know they were close.

Andrew glanced around the room, half-expecting this to be some kind of joke, but Jordan just held on for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Uh... hey, buddy," Andrew said, recovering quickly. "What's all this about?"

Jordan shrugged, rubbing his nose like he was trying to play it cool. "Nothing. Just, y'know... wanted to say hey."

Andrew squinted at him, still not entirely convinced, but he ruffled his son's hair anyway. "Well, hey to you too."

Jordan quickly pulled away before his dad could make it too embarrassing, clearing his throat as he turned back toward the table.

"Oh! Right! Dad, the pancakes and eggs are almost ready! And Timothy is-" Jordan started, before Timothy cut him off.

"Actually, I'm done!" Timothy declared, licking a small cut on his finger where the knife had nicked him. "All up to time now."

Jordan made a face. "Ew, dude. That's nasty."

Timothy rolled his eyes. "You'll survive."

Andrew, shaking his head at the interaction, clapped his hands together. "Well, let's hope time is on our side, huh?"

He gave his son one last pat on the shoulder before stepping over toward the others.

With that, the room settled into a calm, peaceful silence, at least for now.

Ben walked out of the bathroom, his hair damp and wildly unkempt, a big, satisfied grin stretched across his face. He was fully dressed, shoes on and all, making it clear he had rushed through his shower just to get out.

Allison turned from the kitchen, immediately narrowing her eyes. "Oh, Ben! You've got to brush your hair!" she scolded, rolling her eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

Ben instinctively reached up to touch his hair. "But, Mom, it's just gonna dry like this anyway," he mumbled, shifting his feet.

Before Allison could move toward him, Timothy stepped in with a knowing smirk. "Don't worry, I've got him, honey." He reached into his bag and pulled out a Mason Pearson hairbrush, one of the few luxuries he still clung to. "Come here, kid, we're making you look like a million bucks."

Ben hesitated but eventually walked over. "Do I have to?" he grumbled.

Timothy chuckled, kneeling to his son's level. "Unless you wanna walk around looking like a porcupine? Yeah, you kinda do." He ruffled Ben's hair for emphasis.

Ben groaned but let his father get to work, grimacing slightly as the brush tugged through his damp curls. "Ow, Dad! Not so hard!"

"Quit squirming, tough guy," Timothy said with a grin. "You want the ladies to see you looking like this?" He raised an eyebrow teasingly.

Ben's face turned red. "Daaad!"

Richard, standing a few feet away near the window, watched the families with detached amusement. His fingers absentmindedly drummed against the wooden sill, his mind far from hairbrushes and morning routines. We should be getting on the road already. He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

He turned just in time to see Jackson emerge from the other room. The man looked worn-more so than usual. Richard's instincts flared, picking up on the subtle tension in Jackson's body language.

"You alright over there, Jackson?" Richard asked, tilting his head slightly.

Jackson exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Yeah... just thinking about some things we need."

Richard blinked a few times, studying him. "Ah, well, we can get all the supplies we need at Pilot Mountain once we get there." He shrugged, as if that settled the matter.

But Jackson's expression darkened, his posture stiffening. "No. We need to do it now," he said firmly. "I already have tools, but we need a map... and we need stuff for a radio."

Richard folded his arms, staring at him skeptically. "A radio? You still on that?"

"Yes," Jackson snapped, eyes sharp. "We need to be able to hear what's going on outside of our own little world. We don't know what's coming next."

The room grew quiet. Even Timothy, who had just finished fixing Ben's hair, glanced up at the tension in their voices.

Richard let out a slow breath, rubbing his chin. Hell... maybe he's right.

"Well... we can worry about that when we get to Pilot Mountain, like I said," Richard repeated himself, his voice carrying a hint of irritation. He squinted at Jackson, waiting for pushback.

Jackson, of course, didn't disappoint. His jaw tightened as he shook his head, exhaling sharply. "Yes... but I saw the downtown area while I was driving through. There's a shop with maps, guides, tools-stuff that could actually help us. Unless you're secretly an electrician?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Richard's brow twitched. He wasn't in the mood for Jackson's jabs, but instead of biting back, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Alright, fine," he muttered. "I'll hop in your truck, and we'll go to this place. We'll get the maps, look for radio parts, and grab whatever books or guides we can find."

Jackson was still tense, but at least he got the answer he wanted. He took a breath, forcing himself to relax. "Alright... that's fine with me."

Richard studied him for a moment, sensing something was off. This guy is on edge... and not just because of this trip. But now wasn't the time to pry. Instead, he turned to address the rest of the group.

"Hey, everybody! Me and Jackson are heading downtown to pick up some maps and utility guides. We'll be back shortly," Richard announced.

Heads turned, and all at once, Tyler's small voice cut through the room. "You're leaving again?!" His eyes were wide, filled with fear and disappointment.

Jackson felt a pang in his chest. "I'll be gone no more than thirty minutes, kiddo. We'll be back right on time before we leave." He kept his voice steady, reassuring, though Tyler still clutched his arm for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

"Well... while you're out, I noticed you've got those big gas cans in the back of your truck," Andrew chimed in. "Can you fill some up with regular fuel? My tank's almost empty."

Jackson looked over at him and then outside at the parked cars. "I'll try my best. Our best bet is siphoning gas from other cars-not like we can roll up to a gas station and expect it to work."

Andrew frowned. "And how exactly do you get gas out of someone else's car? You gonna rip open their fuel tank?"

Jackson let out a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. "No. It's easy. Just stop asking questions-I can handle it." He then turned toward Richard. "Let's go."

Richard, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, stood up and grabbed his keys. "Yeah... let's do this." He wasn't taking his car, but he needed the keys to get back into the house. Not that he expected anyone to go wandering off.

As the two men headed toward the door, Julie called out from the kitchen. "Good luck, guys!" She flipped another pancake, not even glancing up.

Richard smirked to himself as he stepped outside. Luck... yeah, we're gonna need it.