Silent Gas Station

Outside, the bus clips one of the figures, the sickening thud vibrating through the floorboards. Riya screams, burying her face in her hands, while the driver fights to keep the bus steady on the winding road.

"I'm not stopping for anything!" the driver yells, his eyes wide and wild in the rearview mirror. "I'm heading for the city outskirts—there's a main station there!"

"No!" Arjun shouts back. "If they're everywhere, the city is a trap! We need to go somewhere defensible!"

The bus roars down the slick asphalt, the engine straining as it leaves the nightmare of the roadblock behind.

In the periphery of the headlights, you catch glimpses of the creatures stumbling in the treeline, their pace lethargic and uncoordinated.

 They aren't sprinters; they are heavy, dragging shadows that struggle to gain traction on the mud.

"They're slow," you observe, your voice steadying as you watch the figures fall rapidly behind. You grip the overhead rail, bracing against the swaying of the bus.

 "Look at them—they can barely keep their balance. They aren't hunters like in the movies; they’re sluggish."

Arjun glances out the side window, his tactical jacket tight across his shoulders. He nods in agreement, his expression hardening. "You're right. They're sluggish, but there are too many of them back there. They must be drawn to the density of the forest, or maybe the cover of the canopy."

Min-ho leans over the driver’s shoulder, keeping a watchful eye on the road ahead. "He’s right about the city being a death trap, but we can't stay on the main highway forever. If the infection is concentrated in the woods or dark patches, we need to find an open, elevated area. A wide clearing or a well-lit facility."

Chris is hyperventilating, his bravado completely shattered. He stares at his own trembling hands. "What are you talking about? 'Infection'? Are you saying this is... an outbreak?"

Riya looks up from her lap, her eyes red-rimmed but focused on you. "You're the only one who didn't lose your head back there. Where do we go? If the forest is their playground, where is safe?"

The bus continues to barrel forward, the high beams cutting through the gloom. The road begins to rise, leading away from the heavy thicket and toward the flatter, industrial outskirts.

Ahead, you can see the distant, flickering glow of a lone, isolated refueling station, its bright fluorescent lights hummed with electricity—a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the woods you just escaped.

The driver looks back to everyone, sweat beading on his forehead. "There's a gas station up ahead with bright floodlights. It's an open lot—easy to see if anything is approaching. Do we risk stopping to check for supplies, or do we keep driving until the fuel gauge hits empty?"

The bus begins to decelerate, the screech of the brakes echoing through the empty, eerie silence of the night as the station comes into view.

The fluorescent lights hum with a sharp, sterile intensity, casting long, stark shadows across the cracked concrete of the forecourt. It looks like an oasis, but in the current climate, it feels more like a stage for an ambush.

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