"Check the vehicles!" Bert shouted, clutching his injured arm. He staggered over with a crumpled map in hand, his face tight with worry.
"How much farther?" I asked.
He glanced at the map. "If everything goes well, we should arrive today."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we might never get there." His voice was cold.
"Is it really that bad?" Victor interjected casually.
"This isn't a joke, Victor. If we don't get through this wasteland soon, we could actually die. The GPS is useless; we're relying on experience and instinct."
The convoy reorganized and moved out again. We pushed on, deeper into the wasteland. There wasn't a soul in sight. Our phones had lost signal hours ago, and even the satellite phone was nothing but static.
"How much longer..." My hand instinctively went to the gun
