AARON I let out a heavy breath and closed my eyes for a second, my head dropping a little in acceptance. There was no point fighting what could not be changed. When I opened them again, I told the car to save a spot at the store and drive us there, my voice steady even if I did not feel it. I tried to use the shopping system while we were still rolling, but every item I searched for flashed gone in dull red letters. The store’s grill menu froze and spat out an error when I tapped it. I frowned, my jaw tightening, then leaned back into the seat. At least there were parking spots left. That alone felt like a small mercy. We sat in an uncomfortable quiet after that. The kind that presses in on your ears. The only sound was the soft, uneven snore coming from the back seat. A small smile tugged at my mouth and I turned to look at my little boy. Lucas slept hard, his mouth partly open, a shiny thread of drool slipping from his lips and soaking into the corner of his blanket. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm, completely unaware of how fragile everything felt. Elena leaned over to look at him too. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then our eyes met. I smiled for her, on purpose, to show I was not angry, that I was not blaming her or the world or anyone else. Her face crumpled anyway. The skin around her eyes tightened and tears spilled over, sliding down her cheeks without a sound. “How do we protect him from all of this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid the question itself might wake him.I had no answer. Not a real one. Nothing that did not feel like a lie. How do you keep the people you love safe when you cannot even guard yourself from dangers that appear out of nowhere? One day the world makes sense. The next, you are fighting just to keep breathing, learning new rules as the old ones collapse beneath your feet. The same heavy sadness settled in my chest, thick and sharp. My eyes burned before I could stop it. I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her. She rested her head against my shoulder, and I stared past her window at the blur of fast-moving trees and abandoned vehicles lining the road like forgotten toys. “We never stop trying,” I said quietly. It was all I had. All I could promise. The convenience store glowed ahead of us, bright and defiant, likely the only place for miles that still had power. The lights were almost harsh after so much darkness. The owners must have installed serious battery backups. Maybe because it sat between towns. Maybe because winter storms had taught them hard lessons about being prepared. Either way, I felt a surge of gratitude as the car wound through the parking lot and slid smoothly into the spot it had reserved earlier. My hand lifted toward the main screen, ready to enter my payment details, but the display changed before I could touch it. The car was already pulling a charge from the wireless pad beneath us. I let out a quiet breath I had not realized I was holding. A silent thank you formed in my chest. I had always considered myself faithful, but work and routine had pushed gratitude into the background of my life. After everything we had lived through, that felt wrong. Like another thing I needed to do better, if we were lucky enough to keep going. I turned to Elena and smiled as she watched the activity outside. Cars rolled in steadily, people stepping out and scanning their surroundings before relaxing just a little. “Does it seem safe?” she asked. I followed her gaze. The store lights were on, figures moving inside between shelves. Outside, small groups lingered near their vehicles, talking quietly. At the far end of the lot, a sleek mobile hauler had its extra rooms extended, bright panels flared out like wings. A canopy glowed beneath it where people grilled food. The smell carried faintly through the air. Kids kicked a soccer ball back and forth nearby, their laughter low but unmistakable, while parents sat at a picnic table close enough to watch every move. I looked back at her. “Safer than most places we have seen so far.” She did not respond. We just sat there, watching the scene play out, both of us weighing risks we did not know how to measure anymore.“I need to pee,” she said suddenly, breaking the tension. I laughed before I could stop myself, the sound surprising both of us. “Wake him up and get him to go too,” I said. “I will head inside and look around. Keep watching, and I will signal you if it is okay.” I opened the door and stepped out into the cool air. “Be safe,” she called after me. A second later, I heard the locks click as the doors sealed shut. I walked past several groups of people, giving a nod when our eyes met. Most nodded back. A few just watched. Everyone looked suspicious when you were lost and frightened. Dangerous, even. I wondered how many of them felt the same way about me. Whether the fear sitting heavy in my chest was mirrored in theirs. I decided the best thing I could do was assume no one here meant harm, at least until they proved otherwise. After all, for all they knew, I was the murdering psychopath I worried they might be. And if we all saw each other that way, we would end up creating the very nightmare we were trying so desperately to survive.