I wasn’t sure why I blamed him for the divorce. Mom was the one that had decided she didn’t want to be married to his profession anymore. It broke Dad’s heart when she said it was over, and for whatever reason my loyalties were with my mom. She seemed more fragile, and less capable to be on her own. I wasn’t sure what Dad could have done differently. Quit his job? Thrown away years of education? What else would he do? It wasn’t until I began my second semester of college that I realized it wasn’t just parties and friends. It was hours of studying and worrying and writing papers that would never pass through any other hands than a professor’s. But, I blamed him. I punished him with my absence.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I pressed on the brake to bring the Bug to a slow stop about a hundred yards from a large herd of dead ones. The car alarm confused me. It was grating to the ears, and yet I’d been so engulfed in my thoughts of my dad, the sound and even the headlights blinking on and off, visible through the dozens of ambling bodies, didn’t register until we were nearly on top of them.

“What do you want to do?” Bryce asked quietly.

“Turn off your lights,” the guy we’d picked up said, his voice tired and sad. He hadn’t told us his name, and no one had bothered to ask. We had more important things to worry about, I guess, but still it seemed strange. It was just another reminder that in just a few days the environment had changed us.

A few days ago, Ashley would have been giggly and bubbly and the first thing she would have done is asked the guy his name. She didn’t even seem to notice he was in the car, even though she was half sitting on his lap, half Cooper’s.

I reached up to turn the headlamp knob, and we idled. The wheat field on the right was still damp from rain. A vehicle had cut huge ruts into the soil, really deep in some spots. On the right was a grassy hill. I wondered for a moment why the person who made the ruts had chosen the wheat field. Then, the road leading into the tiny town of Shallot caught my eye. Ashley and I had passed this town and that wheat field so many times without a second thought. Now, the wheat field was dangerous, and the town a frightening unknown. The hill hid parts of the town from view, and the wheat field ruts led me to believe the person before us wanted as far away from that hill as possible.

The dashboard pinged, and I looked down. The gas gauge was a centimeter to the right of the red line.

“Of course,” Ashley said. “How could we possibly star in a horror movie without something catalyzing like that happening?”

“Catalyzing?” Cooper said with a smile.

“Shut up,” she replied, barely acknowledging his playful teasing.

The truth was, Ashley had done significantly better on her SATs than I had. She’d always been a straight A student, even taking college courses in high school. She’d inherited our dad’s intelligence, but my mom’s inability to handle any amount of stress. She was an emotional ball of nerves and tears. Cooper once told me that his mother was the same way, and that’s why he was one of the few guys in school that didn’t find her high-maintenance. One late, drunken night when everyone else had passed out, Cooper shared with me that he actually found her neediness and constant need for assurance comforting, which was just . . . odd, and maybe a little co-dependent, but they were perfect for each other. Cooper understood Ashley, and made her happy like no one else could. They clung to each other because they believed it, too.

I don’t know. I guess it was sweet. Even weird people deserved to be happy.

“Well”—I breathed, hating what I was about to say—“look on the bright side. There is a gas station in Shallot.”

“But we’re so close,” Ashley said. “Let’s just drive around and go home.”

“We can’t make it home.”

One of the dead ones seemed to notice the Bug, and she took a slow step toward us. She was young, and her long, blond hair might have been as beautiful as Ashley’s if it wasn’t ratted and covered in blood and . . . other things. Her movement drew the attention of another dead one, and then another. Soon, several were walking slowly but with purpose. Their eyes were milky and lifeless, but their mouths were open. Some of their upper lips were quivering, like a growling dog. The blonde reached out to me, and a low but excited moan pushed from her throat.

I pulled back on the gearshift and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. A few days ago, I had parked the Bug in the middle of nowhere to avoid door dings, and now I was driving it like a go-kart. I whipped us back and away from the approaching dead ones, and then followed the road on the right into Shallot, praying that there wasn’t another herd behind the hill, and we wouldn’t be boxed in.

“Whoa!” Bryce said, as I cut across a median. Everyone’s head but mine hit the ceiling.

“Sorry!” I said, grabbing the wheel with one hand over the other quickly as I turned to keep control.

“Ease back, babe,” Bryce said. “We’re okay.”

The town was vacant, and I sighed in relief to see a grocery store ahead, with a gas station directly behind it. I pulled around to the station, and we all climbed from the Bug, stretching and taking a moment to breathe.

I was relieved that even in the early hours of the morning, it was warmer than the day before. The previous day’s rain had brought with it a cold front, and I was worried Ashley and I would be miserably cold before we made it to Dad’s. For just a second, I thought about pulling out my cell phone to check the forecast, but then I realized I hadn’t had service since yesterday. None of us had.

Bryce walked around us with his eyes to the ground, checking the tires.

“Did I break her?” I asked.

“No, but you have to be more careful.”

“I was scared. I wasn’t sure what was behind the hill. Did you see those ruts in the field?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his eyes moving from the tires to our surroundings. Once he was satisfied that we weren’t in immediate danger, he noticed my struggle with the gas pump. “Not working?”

I glared at the nozzle plugged into the Bug. “I was all excited because this thing is ancient. It doesn’t even have a place to run a credit card.”

“I’ll run in. Maybe there’s a switch to trip.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and jogged across the small lot to the station. He pushed open the door and jumped over the counter. He searched the register and surrounding area with a focused frown, and before I could register a thought, my legs broke out into a sprint toward the station.