"God be damned! What is taking Timothy so long?" Richard growled, pacing the room with restless energy. His polished shoes clicked sharply against the floor with each step, a rhythm that only seemed to heighten the unease in the room.

Andrew leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his gaze flickering toward the door every few moments. Though he wasn't saying anything, the tightness in his jaw and the furrow of his brow betrayed his own unease. Meanwhile, Julie sat on the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap, projecting a calm that felt almost out of place given the circumstances.

"Well... When you get kids of your own, maybe you'll understand," Julie said, her voice firm but not unkind. She locked eyes with Richard, the faintest trace of a smirk on her face. "Family is the most important thing."

Richard paused mid-step, his head snapping toward her. He bristled at the remark, his jaw tightening. It wasn't the first time someone had insinuated that he couldn't possibly understand the priorities of a parent. But Julie's tone, though calm, carried a weight that made it sting more than usual.

He scoffed softly, turning his back to her as he resumed pacing. The truth was, she wasn't wrong. He didn't know what it was like to have a family-not really. His brother had walked out of his life when they were teenagers, his mother had died giving birth to him, and his father had been distant at best. Richard had left home as soon as he could, throwing himself into his education and building a career from the ground up. Family, for him, was an abstract concept, something he admired from afar but had never truly experienced.

"Well... Time is ticking," Richard muttered, brushing off Julie's comment as best as he could. He gestured toward the window, where the distant echoes of chaos had grown faint. "We don't know how much time we have left to get out of here. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes."

Andrew finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "And what exactly do you suggest, Richard? You want us to storm out of here without a plan? Because that sounds like suicide to me."

Richard stopped pacing and turned to face Andrew, his brow furrowed. "I'm suggesting we stop wasting time. Every second we sit here, we lose whatever slim advantage we might have had. Do you really think this hotel is going to hold up if those things start swarming in here?"

Julie tilted her head slightly, watching the exchange with an air of quiet contemplation. "And do you really think running out there blindly is any better?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Look, Richard, I get it. You're scared. We all are. But panicking and rushing won't solve anything."

Richard opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as the room fell silent. The distant gunshots that had been echoing through the city streets just moments ago had abruptly stopped.

He turned toward the window, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the sudden silence. "The gunshots..." he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "They've stopped."

Andrew pushed off the wall, moving to stand beside him. "Maybe it's over," he said cautiously, though his voice betrayed his doubt.

Richard shook his head. "No. That was too fast. A city this size? It doesn't add up. Either they ran out of ammo, or..." He trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

The weight of his unfinished sentence hung heavily in the room. Julie glanced between the two men, her calm demeanor finally cracking just a little. "Or what?" she asked quietly.

Richard didn't answer. Instead, he turned back toward the door, his mind racing. Whatever had caused the gunfire to stop, he doubted it was anything good.

An uneasy silence settled over the room, heavy and oppressive. It hung in the air like a storm cloud, each second stretching out interminably as the three of them exchanged uneasy glances. The faint sounds of their breathing were the only noises cutting through the stillness.

But the silence didn't last long.

Out of nowhere, a fresh burst of gunfire cracked through the night, sharp and chaotic. It lasted only a few seconds-just enough to jolt everyone to attention-before cutting off abruptly. The echoes faded into nothingness, leaving behind the same eerie quiet that had haunted the room moments before.

Andrew leaned against the wall, his fingers tapping absently against his arm. His gaze was fixed on the window, where the closed blinds shielded them from whatever nightmare unfolded outside. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, then muttered the words that hung heavy on all their minds.

"Well... I guess that means they're out of ammo," he said, his voice low and uneven.

He immediately regretted saying it. The weight of his words hit the room like a hammer, each syllable hanging in the air, oppressive and foreboding. He glanced over at Julie and Richard, who both froze at the implication.

Julie's lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at Andrew, her normally calm demeanor faltering. "Andrew..." she began softly, trying to find the right words. But even she didn't know how to soften the weight of the thought.

Andrew gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought the rising lump in his throat. He tore his gaze away from the others and returned it to the window, his focus narrowing on the blinders. They remained drawn, shielding them from the horrors beyond, but the silence outside pressed against the room like a living thing.

Richard shook his head, his lips curling into a scowl. "If they're out of ammo, we're worse off than I thought," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His pacing resumed, each step radiating frustration and nervous energy.

Andrew didn't respond, his eyes glued to the window. He couldn't bring himself to look away, as though staring at the blinds would somehow prepare him for what lay beyond them. But all he saw was the faint outline of the world outside, shrouded in darkness.

"Whatever happened out there, we need to know," Richard said firmly, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "We can't just sit here waiting for-" He stopped mid-sentence, unsure how to even finish the thought.

Julie sighed and ran her hands through her hair, leaning forward as if the weight of the situation had finally caught up to her. "We might not like what we find out," she said quietly.

The tension in the room felt suffocating, and even Richard found himself unable to argue.

---

"Dad! I don't want to be here anymore! I want to go home!" Angela's voice cracked with desperation, her words trembling as she clutched the edge of the worn armchair. Her wide eyes darted toward the curtained window, flinching with every distant crack of gunfire that pierced the silence.

Allison was by her side in an instant. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Angela, pulling her daughter close. "Shh, sweetheart. It's okay, it's okay," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing balm against Angela's escalating panic. She stroked her daughter's hair, her fingers trembling just slightly as she tried to maintain her own composure.

Timothy stood a few feet away, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he watched the scene unfold. He could feel the weight of his daughter's fear pressing against his chest, constricting his breath. His mind raced for the right words, but everything felt inadequate.

"I... I don't think we can go back home now, Angela..." he began, his voice low and strained. As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. He cursed himself under his breath, realizing too late how those words would sound to his already terrified children.

Ben's reaction was immediate. His small hands latched onto his father's arm with surprising strength, his eyes brimming with tears. "We can't go back home?! Are we going to die here, Dad?" he cried, his voice high-pitched and filled with raw fear.

Timothy's heart twisted painfully. He dropped to one knee, bringing himself to eye level with his son. He gently placed his hands on Ben's shoulders, holding him steady even as the boy trembled.

"What?! No!" Timothy said firmly, his voice carrying a conviction he didn't entirely feel. "We will not die here. I promise you, Ben. I will take care of all of you, and I will make sure our family is safe."

He held Ben's gaze, his own brown eyes searching for a flicker of reassurance in his son's tear-streaked face. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to rest solely on Timothy's shoulders. Slowly, he saw the tension in Ben's small body ease, the boy's grip on his arm loosening.

Outside, the gunfire suddenly ceased, leaving the room blanketed in an eerie stillness. The absence of sound was almost more unsettling than the chaos it replaced. Timothy let out a slow breath, glancing toward the curtained window as though expecting something-or someone-to burst through at any moment.

The room itself offered little comfort. The sparse hotel furniture-stiff chairs, a scratched coffee table, and a few dimly lit lamps-did little to ease the suffocating tension that had taken hold of the family. The once-pristine white walls were now smeared with faint smudges of dirt and wear, a grim reminder of the hundreds who had passed through these rooms before them. A faint hum from the flickering overhead light added to the oppressive atmosphere, its unreliable glow casting long, wavering shadows across the walls.

Allison, still holding Angela, glanced toward Timothy. Her expression was a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, but her grip on her daughter remained firm. "Tim," she said softly, her voice carrying both worry and hope. "What's the plan?"

Timothy stood slowly, straightening his back and trying to project an air of calm he didn't feel. He looked at his wife and then at his two children, all of them watching him with a quiet, desperate hope that he could not afford to let down.

"We stay together," he said finally, his voice steady. "No matter what happens, we stay together. We'll figure this out."

Allison still didn't seem entirely convinced by Timothy's words. Her lips pressed tightly together as she bit down, her eyes flickering with a mixture of doubt and fear.

"Alright," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you, Timothy. I will stick by your side... until the end of this." Her arms wrapped tightly around him, pulling him close. There was a fragility in the embrace, an unspoken fear that this small moment of connection might be their last.

Timothy held her for a moment, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. The children joined in, clutching at him as if they could anchor themselves to something stable amidst the storm of uncertainty.

After a few more moments, Timothy gently released them, though his hands lingered briefly on Ben's small shoulders. "We're making plans," he said softly, his tone measured and soothing. "We're working on finding a safe place to stay... until this storm passes."

Allison gave a hesitant nod, her expression softening slightly as she allowed herself to believe in his words. Angela, however, still seemed visibly shaken. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and her small frame quivered as she stared toward the curtained window.

"What if the storm never rides out?" she asked, her voice trembling. Her wide, tear-filled eyes stayed fixed on the barrier between them and the horrors outside, her imagination running wild with what might be just beyond the veil of fabric.

Timothy's heart clenched at the question. He followed her gaze, imagining the lifeless streets beyond the curtains and the lingering threat of the dead. He felt a pang of helplessness but quickly buried it. Angela didn't need doubt-she needed reassurance.

"If the storm doesn't ride out," he said gently, crouching slightly to meet her at eye level, "then we'll make our own safe place. Somewhere we can stay for as long as we need to. And we'll do it together. I promise you."

Angela's lip quivered, but she nodded, her wide eyes searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. For now, his calm tone and steady gaze seemed enough to ease her fears, if only a little.

Timothy stared at the wall in front of him, his thoughts momentarily lost in the cracks and imperfections of the faded paint. It felt easier to focus on that blank space than to meet the fearful gazes of his children again. His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, his mind racing through the possibilities of what awaited them next door.

Breaking the silence, Allison spoke, her voice steady but firm. "Me and your dad are going to go talk to the others," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She turned toward Angela and Ben, crouching slightly to look them in the eyes. "You stay inside and keep the door locked like last time. No one gets through... nobody. Do you understand?"

Her eyes darted between the two children, her expression unyielding. There was no warmth in her gaze this time, only a fierce determination to drive her point home. Angela and Ben both stared at her, the gravity of her words sinking in.

Ben, clutching the blanket draped over his small frame, looked up at his mother with wide, uncertain eyes. After a long moment, he nodded, the motion hesitant but resolute. Angela, though still trembling slightly, followed suit, her lips pressed into a tight line as she nodded back at her mother.

Allison lingered for a moment, her gaze softening as she took in their young faces. She knew this wasn't fair to them-they were just kids-but fairness had no place in the world they were living in now. She reached out and gently ruffled Ben's hair, her touch light but reassuring, before standing straight.

Timothy glanced over his shoulder, his jaw tightening as he exchanged a look with Allison. There was no need for words between them; they both knew what had to be done. Together, they turned toward the door, their movements deliberate and controlled.

"Alright, stay here," Timothy said, his voice low but steady. He gave both children a small, forced smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll be back soon. Just keep the door locked."

"Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom," Ben said quietly, his voice almost inaudible. Angela echoed him softly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though trying to shield herself from the world outside.

"Goodbye, kids," Allison said, her voice wavering slightly at the end. She turned the handle and opened the door, glancing back one last time to make sure the children were still where they were supposed to be.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the sound of the lock turning echoed faintly in the hallway. Timothy and Allison stood there for a moment, the weight of their choices pressing down on them. Then, with a shared nod, they began to make their way toward the others, leaving their children behind in the silence of the room.

Angela and Ben huddled together on the edge of the bed, holding each other tightly. It felt like an echo of simpler times, back when they used to be inseparable. Just half a year ago, their bond had been unshakable-sharing secrets, teaming up for pranks, and watching out for each other. But life had shifted so suddenly, tearing at the edges of their closeness, and Ben could feel the distance even now.

Everything seemed to change in a single day.

"Do you think Jordan is with them?" Ben asked, his voice quiet but tinged with a subtle edge of jealousy. His gaze drifted to the far wall, where Andrew's family was staying. He imagined them laughing together or working on a plan without him and Angela.

Angela turned her head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. A small chuckle escaped her lips despite the heaviness in the air. "Jordan? No shot!" she said, shaking her head. Her tone was light, though it was clear she wasn't truly in the mood to joke. "I don't even think his dad likes him all that much. Plus, he's way younger than me. He's just a little kid."

She rolled her eyes, but her reaction wasn't harsh. It felt more like she was trying to reassure her brother than mock his question. Ben, however, didn't seem convinced. He stared down at the bedspread, fiddling with a loose thread on the frayed fabric.

"Yeah... but you're a girl," Ben muttered, his words barely audible.

Angela paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed his comment. It stung a little, though she wasn't entirely sure why. She could have pressed him about it, but she decided against it. The last thing either of them needed right now was another argument.

Instead, she let out a small sigh and reached over to ruffle his hair gently. "Happy birthday, Ben," she said, her voice soft and almost wistful.

Ben froze, his eyes widening as the words sunk in. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. He had completely forgotten what day it was, and Angela's reminder felt like a splash of cold water. Slowly, he turned his head toward the digital clock sitting on the small counter by the far wall. The numbers glowed faintly in the dim light: 2:13 AM.

It hit him like a weight in his chest. Today was his birthday. It was already tomorrow.

Last year, he'd been counting down the days to this moment, imagining cake, balloons, and the laughter of friends. He'd been so excited, back when the world still made sense. But now, the idea of celebrating felt foreign, almost ridiculous. There was no joy left to anticipate, no party waiting to happen.

His throat tightened as he lowered his gaze back to the bedspread. "I guess it's my birthday," he murmured, the words feeling hollow. He should have been happy, but happiness was a distant memory-something he hadn't truly felt in what seemed like forever.

Angela noticed the shift in his mood and tightened her grip around his shoulders. "Hey, it's still your day," she said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "We'll... I don't know... maybe we can do something small. Just you and me."

Ben didn't respond right away, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't much, but it was enough to show Angela that her words had made a small difference.

Angela held the smile on her face, warm but fleeting, as she glanced at Ben. He tilted his head nervously, his small frame stiff with doubt.

"Really? What can we do? We're locked in a room with nowhere to go," he said softly, lowering his head. The grim expression that overtook his face made him look far older than his years, a stark reminder of how much the world had stolen from him in such a short time.

Angela's smile faltered as she watched him. Her mind raced, searching for something-anything-that could bring even a flicker of joy back to her little brother. Her gaze wandered around the room, scanning the drab furniture, the dull walls, the unmade bed. Her thoughts reached back, desperately clawing for a happy memory.

"You remember the trampoline last year?" she asked suddenly, her voice laced with a spark of excitement.

Ben looked up, his brow furrowing. "Yeah? Why?" he asked cautiously, unsure what she was getting at.

Angela didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood up abruptly, stepping carefully onto the bed. Her eyes darted to the low ceiling above her to make sure she had enough room. Then, with a playful grin, she bent her knees and gave a small hop. The mattress responded with a satisfying bounce.

"Well..." she said, jumping higher this time, her grin widening, "we're standing on a trampoline right now!"

Ben blinked in surprise, his lips parting slightly as he watched his sister bounce up and down on the bed. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he should join in. "Angela, we're not supposed to-" he began, but she cut him off with a mischievous laugh.

"Come on, Ben! The hotel people aren't going to care about this bed anymore. Heck, they're probably not even alive right now." Her words were dark, but her tone was light, almost defiant. It was as if she were daring the world to take away this small moment of happiness.

Ben hesitated for another moment, but then the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed beside her, his small feet sinking into the plush mattress. Tentatively, he gave a little hop. The bounce surprised him, and a tiny laugh escaped his lips.

"There you go!" Angela said encouragingly, giving a much higher jump herself. The bed creaked slightly beneath her weight, but she didn't care. For all she knew, they could be standing on the last bed in the world. "See? It's just like last year! You loved it then!"

Ben's cautious hops grew bolder, and soon he was bouncing alongside his sister, their laughter filling the room. The sound was light and pure, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence that had suffocated them for hours. For a few fleeting moments, the horrors outside the walls faded away, replaced by nothing but their shared joy.

But the shadow of reality lingered, even in the corners of their smiles. The world beyond the locked door was crumbling. Over half the population had already succumbed to the sickness, though no one really knew the numbers. No one was counting anymore.

Angela didn't think about that now. She didn't let herself. Instead, she focused on her little brother's laugh, on the way his face lit up despite the fear that had haunted him since the day everything fell apart.

For just a little while, they were two kids again, laughing and playing like nothing else in the world mattered.

---

A car alarm suddenly blasted outside, its shrill wail cutting through the relative silence of the night. From the top floor of the hotel, the sound wasn't overwhelming, but it was distinct enough to make Andrew and Julie exchange a sharp glance. The familiarity of the sound made Andrew's stomach drop.

"It's our car," he said grimly, his voice tinged with frustration and panic. Without hesitation, he moved to the window, yanking the curtains aside. The cold glass reflected his anxious face as he peered out into the dim streets below.

The sparse lighting from nearby emergency power systems barely illuminated the area. Most of the streetlights had long since gone dark, leaving the city shrouded in shadows. Andrew squinted, trying to see past the blinking hazard lights of their vehicle.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding. "We can't get out if we're surrounded by the dead..." His words trailed off as his mind raced through the implications. The car alarm was practically a beacon, drawing attention to their location.

He backed away from the window for a moment, running a hand over his face in exasperation. The faint glow from the hotel's emergency lighting flickered slightly, a chilling reminder of how little time they had left before the building went completely dark.

Behind him, Julie's voice broke through his thoughts. "I've got the keys," she said quickly, almost whispering, as if afraid to draw more attention. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the small key fob. With a single press of the button, the car alarm ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

The hazard lights flashed one last time before going dark, but their brief glow revealed unsettling movements in the shadows. Andrew stiffened, his breath catching as he glimpsed shapes shifting in the distance. The distorted silhouettes of figures moved unnaturally across the street. The sight sent a chill down his spine.

"Damn it," he muttered, closing the curtains with a quick, decisive motion. He turned away from the window, unwilling to dwell on what he'd seen. His pulse was still racing, but he forced himself to appear calm.

Just then, the door to the hotel room creaked open. The sudden noise made everyone in the room jump, their nerves already frayed from the tension. Andrew spun around, his hands instinctively reaching out as if to defend himself. Julie froze mid-step, her wide eyes fixed on the door.

Timothy and Allison stepped inside, their expressions worn but determined. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift slightly, their presence a welcome relief despite the tension that lingered.

"Well," Richard said, breaking the silence as he straightened his posture, "are you all ready, then?" His tone carried an edge of impatience, though he masked it behind a façade of calm.

Timothy glanced at him, then at the others in the room. "We're ready," he said, his voice steady but low.

Richard leaned forward, spreading a hastily drawn map across the small table in the center of the room. His finger traced the route he had in mind, the dim light from the hotel's emergency power casting a faint glow over the crinkled paper. "Here's the plan," he began, his voice low and deliberate. "First, we head to my beach house-it's about 30 minutes from here. I've got supplies there-food, water, tools... enough to last us a while if we're smart about it."

The others leaned in, their faces a mix of skepticism and hope. Andrew rubbed his chin, clearly weighing the options. Julie sat quietly beside him, her arms crossed tightly, as though bracing herself for bad news.

"And after that?" Timothy asked, his tone steady but guarded.

Richard tapped a second point on the map, farther inland. "We move to Pilot Mountain. It's a small town, isolated. My grandmother used to live there when I was a kid. I know the area-there is a community that has been built there as well... It is the the safest place to be right now..."

The group exchanged uneasy glances. The plan wasn't flawless, but it was something-more than they'd had before. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air.

"Alright," Andrew said finally, exhaling deeply. "That works for me. We let the kids sleep a little longer, try to get some rest ourselves... then we get the hell out of here."

His voice carried an edge of resolve, as though taking the lead might steady his nerves. No one opposed him. Richard nodded in agreement, his expression softening slightly. For the first time in hours, a faint sense of control returned to the room.

The quiet stretched, the tension easing just enough for the group to feel like they could breathe again. But the reprieve was short-lived.

Richard's head snapped up suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "Wait," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He held up a hand, silencing the others. Faint but deliberate, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. They were slow and deliberate, each step reverberating like a drumbeat in their ears.

"Someone's out there," Julie said, her voice shaking as she clutched Andrew's arm.

"No..." Timothy muttered, his expression darkening. "Something is out there."

The group froze, their ears straining to catch every sound. The footsteps grew louder, closer. It was impossible to tell if it was human or something far worse. Richard felt his chest tighten, his pulse thundering in his ears. He motioned for everyone to stay quiet, his finger pressed firmly to his lips.

"The kids," Allison whispered, her voice trembling. She glanced toward the wall that separated them from her son and daughter, the fear in her eyes unmistakable. Her hands clenched into fists, ready to bolt if necessary.

The footsteps stopped just outside their door. The silence that followed was deafening, every second dragging out like an eternity. Then, the sound they least expected broke the stillness.

"Uh... hello there?" a voice called out, calm but cautious. The tone was oddly familiar, though the words sent chills through the room. "I heard someone talking... about plans to escape?"