"They're not survivors!" Louisa finally realized. "You just figured that out?" Theresa tightened her grip around their throats. "The toxic fog has been around in Firestone for over two years. There's no way any normal survivors could've lasted that long." People in other cities still had a chance at survival during the zombie outbreak—but Firestone? Not a single living soul. Except Professor K. "Starborn Order sent you, didn't they?" Theresa's eyes turned to ice as she stared the two women down. Their bodies were twisted in unnatural angles, their skin a pale, deathly shade that wasn't caused by the green poison gas—it was the color of corpses, a ghostly white like that of the zombies. Then, the daughter changed first. Her eyes clouded over in an instant, turning ash-gray as her body began to convulse. With a guttural snarl, she lunged at Theresa, jaws wide, teeth gnashing. Before she could reach her, her neck snapped sideways. A blade whirled through the air and struck her square in the forehead. Theresa ended the freshly turned zombie daughter with one clean throw. The mother, trembling beside her, began to transform next. But Theresa noticed something strange—only one of her eyes had gone gray. The other was still human. Just like Quentin's. But the resemblance ended there. The woman—half-human, half-zombie—let out a feral roar and lunged forward with all the strength of the undead. Whatever humanity she had left was gone. Theresa didn't hesitate. Another flash of steel, and the woman collapsed.The whole exchange took less than three seconds. When the mother and daughter lay still, Theresa knelt and searched their bodies. She found two access cards, each stamped with a sword emblem—Starborn Order's insignia. Theresa pocketed the cards, her expression hardening. They must've known Professor K was in her hands. They'd expected her to come to Firestone—and came prepared. Inside the vehicle, silence thickened. Louisa and the others went pale. They'd nearly died trying to rescue those two. Orren stared at the two people he'd fought so hard to save—only to learn they'd come with an agenda and turned into zombies before his eyes. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and for once, he fell completely silent. "What are you waiting for? Move! Go anywhere there's a road left!" Theresa barked. Miles slammed the accelerator and threw the truck into reverse. All around them, the dead began to close in. Then, chaos erupted. Miles, the team's ace driver, pushed his skills to the limit, swerving through the horde with sharp, fearless precision. A zombie the color of mold slammed against the door with a sickening thud. Its body burst like an overripe tomato, spraying gore and tissue across the glass. Its face collapsed inward—nose crushed, lips shredded into its teeth, bulging eyes forced back into their sockets. Its cloudy gray eyes had burst, leaking pus and sludge. Yet even then, the zombie refused to die. It pried open its rotting mouth and kept gnawing, relentless and grotesque.Its lips were a sticky, shredded mess, fused to its teeth and gums. Each bite loosened more of its shattered teeth, chunks of flesh tearing free and dangling from the bloody ruin of its jaw. With a guttural snarl, it clawed onto the hood of their truck—its movements jerky and crazed—just as the tires screeched against the road. Miles jerked the wheel hard. The tires screamed, and the truck spun in a perfect drift, flinging the monster off with a spray of blood and mud. The vehicle kept spinning before finally coming to a bone-rattling stop. Inside, everyone was dizzy and nauseated. Orren clutched his mouth tightly, forcing back the bile. "What is it?" Theresa asked, gripping her seat and Quentin. "Theresa, there's another pit ahead." Miles glanced over his shoulder, his face tight with tension. A deep trench cut across the road again. This one wasn't as wide—maybe twelve feet—but it was still a dead end. To the left rose a steep mountain wall; to the right lay the railroad tracks, and below them, the ruins of Firestone. Behind them was another pit. They were boxed in on all sides. The only option left was up the mountain—but when Theresa looked at the near-vertical slope, she knew it was suicide. They couldn't abandon the truck. Thick waves of poison mist were already rolling out of Firestone's depths, surging forward like a rising tide. In less than two minutes, it would engulf them completely. Even if they escaped the zombies, the toxic gas would still claim them. "Theresa," Dominic said suddenly, his voice steady but urgent. "I've got an idea. We can build a makeshift bridge across the pit—then drive over it."