Finding Holly

Uneasy Shelter

Hannah leaned against the shelves, wrapping her arms around her knees, staring into the gas station, the dim glow of emergency lights providing just enough to see the outlines of her comrades. The air smelled of gasoline, snacks and something stale, like one of those old houses that had dust in it that had sat too long. Her fingers absent-mindedly traced the ink marks of Holly's note in her pocket, the words now etched into her memory from rereading them over and over.

She had gone camping. Hannah's chest began to tighten with worry, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. Worrying would not help anyone right now.

Tim and Charlotte called first watch, whispering occasionally in low voices by the store's main door, the service entrance having been barricaded a few hours ago. The woman they rescued, Dana, slept on the floor, curled up near the back, her breathing steady but light. Hannah had just begun to doze off when she heard a noise that made her instantly stiffen, a slow shuffle, followed by a low groan.

As everyone began to rise, Tim held up his hand, signaling for everyone to stop moving. Everyone understood this and froze, looking at each other as the sound grew closer. It seemed that a single infected person had wandered to the gas station, bumping clumsily against the door, letting out another moan, making Hannah clench her fists. If the infected kept making noise it would draw more.

It felt like hours that they sat in silence, barely breathing in an attempt not to be heard. Then, as quickly as it had come, the infected seemed to lose interest, stumbling away towards the town as the sky began to turn orange with the coming of dawn. No one spoke. They all just listened, waiting.

Tim exhaled as the sun's first light broke over the horizon. "We should go," he murmured. He moved then, jumping into action, he went outside and, after making sure the coast was completely clear, he went out and started the truck. Charlotte and Dana helped load the bags with supplies. Eli, the teenager that they had rescued, dug through the station's storage area and found an old folded map.

"There's an alternate road here," he said, pointing to a route that curved away from the highway. "It could be safer." He turned the map towards Hannah, allowing her to get a better look at it.

Finding the motel's location on the map, Hannah traced the usual route with one color highlighter and traced the alternate route with another one. "Let's take it, there's still multiple opportunities to reconnect to the main route if we need to."

After they loaded the last of the supplies into the truck, the engine rumbling to life, they piled in. As they drove off, the gas station grew smaller in the rearview mirror, swallowed by the morning's eerie stillness.

The roads were mostly empty, save for the cars that had been abandoned and the debris that was scattered along the edge of the road. As they passed burned-out houses and wrecked vehicles, an unsettling quiet settled over them. Then, in the distance, a lone figure stood in the middle of the road. Motionless. Unmoving.

Hannah's hand tensed around the grip of her gun that rested in her lap. "Keep driving," she murmured, keeping her eyes on the figure. Tim didn't need to be told twice, swerving around the figure, not slowing down. As they passed, Hannah caught a glimpse of its face-pale, lifeless, its eyes staring straight ahead, but not really looking at anything at the same time.

The small murmurs of conversation among the travelers had ceased after that. The road they were on led them toward an old steel bridge, but as they neared, Hannah's stomach sank. A massive pile-up of cars and luggage blocked the way; there was no way they could drive through.

Charlotte let out a frustrated sigh, looking at the rest of the group, "I guess we're walking from here. We're going to have to size down so essential things only." They secured the truck, grabbing only the essentials before stepping away from the truck and cautiously making their way towards the bridge. The wreckage had created tight spaces between the cars, making progress across the bridge slower than Hannah would've liked.

They were about halfway across the bridge when they heard a voice call out, "Not another step." From behind the wreckage, a small, but still sizable, group of survivors emerged. Their leader, a tall, wiry man with beady eyes and a wispy beard, stepped forward, gun in hand.

"You guys look like you're pretty loaded," he chuckled as he looked between them, scanning their gear. "We'll help lighten your load and take those supplies off your hands. And just for helpin' us out a bit, we'll let you all continue on your way."

Hannah's fingers twitched, itching to wrap around her pistol, but she kept her hands where they could be seen. "We're not looking for any trouble." She called out, making sure to keep her voice steady and firm.

The leader smirked, "Neither are we. Just looking to finish up some business." The snickers of his men reached Hannah's ears, if things got violent there was no telling what would happen. Before the man could speak again, a new sound broke through the tension-a chorus of guttural moans, steadily increasing in volume.

From the shadows of the wreckage, the infected lurched forward. Panic erupted, the group turned, opening fire, but there were too many. The unread swarmed towards the gunshots, climbing over and under cars, reaching for anything that they thought might be alive.

"This way!" Hannah shouted over the noise, grabbing Charlotte's arm and bolting forward toward an opening between two trucks. Tim and Dana followed close behind with Eli between them. They sprinted, dodging bodies-living and undead-until they reached the other side of the bridge and into the woods beyond. They didn't stop running until they were far enough into the woods that the sounds of the fight had faded.

Dana collapsed against a tree, clutching her arm. Blood was quickly seeping through a tear in her shirt's sleeve. "Not bitten," she panted, "just cut."

Hannah exhaled with relief and began inspecting the wound while Charlotte dug through her pack for a bandage while Tim and Eli kept an eye on their surroundings. There was no choice but to keep moving. Eventually, they stumbled upon an old hunting cabin nestled into the trees. After checking out the outside, Tim managed to boost Hannah up so she could crawl in through a window and unlock the front door that way.

Once everyone was inside with all the exits and windows secured, they started looking through the cabin. There were no signs of recent use-dust-covered furniture, a few dust-covered cans in the cupboards, and an old oil lantern. Hannah spotted a radio sitting on a shelf.

It looked to be out of power, but Tim turned it over, examining the back of it. "If we could find some batteries, we might be able to get it working," he said with a edge of hopefulness in his voice.

As night fell, everyone sat in a tense silence, huddled together in one room around the dim glow of the lantern. Hannah pulled Holly's note out again, looking over the words that were now pretty much etched into her memory. She had to find Holly.

Charlotte stepped outside for some air, but came back sooner than Hannah expected, her face a disturbing shade of white. "You guys need to see this," she whispered.

Everyone made their way towards Charlotte, following behind her as she made her way to the trees. Peering through them, in the distance near the abandoned highway, the moonlight illuminated a massive horde. Potentially even the same one they had run into on the bridge. There looked to be hundreds of infected, heading straight towards Ridley.

Hannah's nails dug into the tree bark, the motel. The next planned stop-it wasn't going to be safe. As the horde vanished through the trees, they had a choice to make. Either push forward in the same direction as the danger, or find a new route, and they had until sunrise to decide.