Page 91 of What Remains

Cade's gaze flickered from Seth back toward the road, where Josie was checking on Jay. He seemed to weigh the offer against something else. After a long moment, he gave a short nod.

"One night."

Chapter 21

Nightfall & Ambush

The last body slid into the ditch with a heavy, final sound. Seth didn't watch it fall; his gaze was fixed on the sun bleeding out behind the Rockies. They'd spent hours clearing the ambush site, scavenging what they could from the bullet-riddled cars, and ensuring no shooters waited for a second pass. The work had cost them more than ammunition.

"We're not hitting Lakewood before dark," Jay said, glancing at the bruised purple sky.

Seth checked his watch, then looked west. The last light was already fading. "No." Driving into an unfamiliar town at night was an invitation for someone to get killed. "We hole up."

Cara unfolded the map across the hood of the Suburban and tapped a spot just off the highway. "There. School district maintenance yard."

Jay leaned over her shoulder. "Bus garage?"

She nodded. "Big building. Few windows. Easy to secure."

Seth looked to Cade. "You in?"

The stranger adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder. "One night."

The school sat on the edge of a small farming community, long since silent. Snow blanketed the empty playground, where a lone swing creaked softly in the wind and brightly colored slides stood frozen beneath inches of ice, untouched for months.

Josie's throat tightened as they passed the entrance. A faded banner, WELCOME BACK STUDENTS!, sagged over doors plastered with construction paper hearts. She thought of the small hands that must have cut them out, the focused look on a child's face holding safety scissors. It felt like a symptom chart for a world that had died in its sleep.

"So much for that," Jay muttered.

No one answered.

The bus garage stood fifty yards behind the school—a massive cinderblock building with six bays. Four school buses remained parked inside, their bright yellow paint muted beneath layers of dust. The overhead doors hadn't opened since the last broadcasts went silent.

Seth and Cade cleared the building first, moving with methodical silence, checking every corner, every maintenance room, every storage closet. They found nothing: no infected, no survivors—only abandoned tools, oil-stained concrete, and the lingering smell of diesel.

"Clear," Seth finally called.

Everyone began unloading. They positioned one bus sideways near the entrance to create an extra layer of cover should anyone force the garage doors, then spread sleeping bags across an open patch of concrete between the buses. Cara found an old shop heater that still ran once connected to the portable generator, and soon a small circle of warmth pushed back against the cavernous cold of the garage.

Outside, snow continued falling. Inside, canned chili simmered quietly over a camping stove. It wasn't much—but after the day they'd survived, it felt almost peaceful.

Jay poked lazily at the heater with a screwdriver, then looked across the circle toward Cade. "So. You've officially saved our lives."

Cade glanced up from cleaning his rifle. "I'd call it evening the odds."

Jay laughed. "Still counts."

A comfortable silence settled between them before Cara finally broke it. "So where are you headed?"

Cade slid the bolt back into place before answering, "Alaska."

Josie's eyebrows shot upward. "Alaska?"

"Yeah."

"That's..." Jay whistled softly. "...one hell of a hike."

Cade shrugged. “That it is.”