For a few seconds after the broadcast cut back to the studio, no one moved.
The television glowed above the bar, the anchor pale and strained, clinging to a professional cadence that no longer fit the moment.
Her words blurred, “trying to confirm… developing situation… authorities responding…” but they didn’t matter anymore. Everyone in the room had already seen enough.
The silence felt heavy. Pressurized.
Somewhere behind the bar, a glass clinked as the bartender set it down with an unsteady hand. A chair scraped softly against the floor. Someone near the back of the bar let out a nervous laugh that died halfway through.
Tony stayed seated, his body still, his mind already moving.
He scanned the room the way he’d scanned alleyways and doorframes; quick, efficient, instinctive. Faces first. Reactions. Threats. Variables.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Fear trying to decide whether it was real yet.
His eyes moved past JoeJoe, Vic, Memo. Past the girls. Chelsey’s smile gone, Veronica rigid, Jackie gripping the table like it might steady the room.
Then Tony’s gaze stopped.
Michael.
His brother sat frozen, eyes fixed on the television, jaw slightly slack. Not panic. At least not yet. Just the dawning realization that something fundamental had shifted, that the world he understood had cracked open without asking permission.
For an instant, everything else fell away.
Tony saw Michael at twenty-two, standing in their parents’ living room with his hands clenched into fists that couldn’t hold anything together.
Not him, Tony thought.
Not here.
I already buried my parents.
The feeling hit hard and fast. Love sharpened into something fierce and protective.
Tony inhaled once, slow and controlled, then let it out.
He lifted his eyes.
Hutch was already watching him.
No words passed between them. None were needed.
Years of shared training, shared danger, shared loss condensed into a single exchange. Hutch’s expression didn’t change, but his posture did. It was subtle, immediate. Weight shifting forward. Attention narrowing. The professional switch flipping on.
We move, that look said.
Now.
Tony straightened in his chair.
“Alright,” he said – not loud, but firm enough to cut through the noise that had begun creeping back into the room. Eyes turned toward him without anyone quite realizing why.
“We’re leaving.”
JoeJoe blinked. “Now?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “Now.”
He stood decisively, the motion cutting off any further questions.
Hutch was already on his feet, moving toward the front of the bar to give himself a clear view of the door and windows, scanning the street beyond with quick, practiced glances.
Tony continued, calm and clipped. “We don’t know how fast this is spreading or what’s happening outside this town. Standing around watching TV isn’t going to help anyone.”
Michael finally looked at him. “Tony–”
“I know,” Tony said, softer just for him. “We’re going to go get them.”
Tony turned to the girls. “You don’t know us very well,” he said plainly, “and you don’t owe us anything. We’re heading to the Mountainside Campground. We have friends there. Plus, it’s higher ground, fewer people. It’s on the way to your cabin. If you want to come with us, you can.”
Chelsey didn’t hesitate. She glanced at Veronica and Jackie, then back at Tony, nodding. “We’re in.”
Veronica nodded. “Yeah, I don’t like what I just saw.”
Jackie swallowed and looked at Chelsey, “Umm… Can we talk about this?”
Tony understood the hesitation. “Of course. You guys talk it out. We have a couple of minutes. Boys, over here.” Tony motioned to an area near the front door. The girls huddled around the table and spoke quietly.
“You all saw it,” Tony said. “This thing. Whatever it is. It spreads. Fast. We need stick together, get somewhere defensible, and survive the onset.”
Hutch was scanning out the window, nodding in agreement.
The girls rejoined them. Chelsey looked at Tony and spoke for the group, “We’re with you guys.”
Tony gave a short nod. “Alright. Grab your things.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and peeled off two crisp hundred-dollar bills. He placed them on the table, weighting them under an empty glass.
“For the food and drinks,” he said, though everyone knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
No one argued.
They moved quickly but without panic. Chairs pushed back, bags slung over shoulders, hands steady despite the adrenaline beginning to seep in.
Hutch took point at the door, pausing for half a second to listen before opening it.
Outside, the air felt different. Sirens echoed in the distance – not just one, but layered. An overlapping chorus of wails.
The sun was still setting peacefully, painting the sky orange and pink. The mountains stood unchanged. But somehow the color seemed a little less vibrant. A little more muted.
The group gathered in the parking lot just outside the door. The sirens were approaching.
A woman stood in the middle of the parking lot, staring at her phone like it had betrayed her. Down the street, a family was frantically loading their SUV, throwing gear in without organization. No plan, just speed.
The chorus of sirens was louder.
An older man stood at the entrance to a motel across the way, watching the street with the fixed stare of someone trying to understand what he was seeing.
The casual afternoon had evaporated. What remained was urgency.
Just then, two police cruisers tore past the tavern, lights flashing, sirens screaming. One clipped a nearby trash can, spilling debris across the street. The sound punched through everything.
Michael flinched. JoeJoe swore under his breath.
But it didn’t end there.
Twenty seconds later, an ambulance and another police cruiser flew by headed in the same direction of the first two police cars.
“That’s toward the highway,” Hutch said quietly, tracking the movement.
Tony watched the emergency vehicles disappear beyond the bend and felt something tighten in his chest. This wasn’t something happening on a screen anymore.
It was here.
Down the street, the family finished loading their SUV. The father slammed the hatch, didn’t lock it, and shoved everyone into the vehicle. Doors hadn’t even fully closed before he was pulling out of the driveway, tires squealing as he merged onto the road headed toward the highway.
The woman with the phone had lowered it and began walking like someone who’d made a decision.
Everyone was thinking the same thing: Leave. Get out. Go home.
But home was 150 miles away. Through whatever chaos was out there.
The woman with the phone turned toward her car, a sedan parked at the far edge of the lot. She’d made it three steps when something emerged from the alley beside the motel.
Its gait was broken, one leg dragging slightly, but its movement was jerky and unnatural. It had been human once. Its form and clothes suggested as much. It wore a light brown sweatshirt and blue jeans, though most of its front was covered in what appeared to be dried blood.
As soon as it emerged from the back of the motel, it locked its soulless eyes on the woman in the parking lot and moved in her direction.
The woman didn’t scream. She just froze.
Its jaws worked as it moved towards her, picking up its pace.
“Vehicles. Now.” Tony said quietly to his group.
They didn’t hesitate. They moved toward the vehicles, staying low but purposeful.
Behind them, the woman finally moved. She ran toward her car, keys fumbling in her hands.
Tony didn’t wait to see what happened next.
Tony turned to Memo and said, “Let Hutch drive. JoeJoe, you ride with me.”
Tony looked at Chelsey as she was climbing into her white Jeep Cherokee. “You girls follow us.”
As Tony stepped toward his Jeep, hand already reaching for the door, one thought entered his mind: The world had changed. And they were already behind the curve.