AARON Westhaven had gone wrong long before we reached anything that could be called its center. The Interlink Highways leading in stayed mostly clear. That should have helped. It didn’t. The emptiness pressed in instead. Elliot explained it while we rolled forward, his voice even but tight. During his first life, he had worked with the Empire State transportation department. He said the open roads were not luck. For the last twenty years, every vehicle had been required to run the same system. Once power dropped too low, the software forced the vehicle to spend its remaining charge searching for a shoulder or safe pull-off, provided one existed within range. On paper, it sounded responsible.In practice, it collapsed the moment the grid went down everywhere. By the time we reached Westhaven itself, the number of vehicles had overwhelmed the space meant to hold them. Power was gone across the city. Cars and trucks ran dry far from their destinations. The Mobile Hauler crawled through Residential Lanes, easing past stalled sedans, delivery trucks, and cargo carriers with heavy containers locked down on their flatbeds. Each driver had tried to follow the rules. Each effort only tightened the mess. Vehicles lined both sides of the streets. Some roads were narrowed to a single path. Others were barely passable at all. The Mobile Hauler climbed the curb. Uneasy sounds moved through the cabin as Marcus guided it onto the Transit Walkway, eyes fixed on his phone and jaw set. Tires scraped concrete. The whole vehicle rocked as we crept forward.Progress came a few feet at a time until we finally cleared the cluster of drained machines and abandoned plans. The windows offered no protection. Westhaven lay open. Fires burned freely. No alarms followed them. No response crews arrived. Smoke marked their locations long before flames could be seen. People moved between buildings in short bursts, disappearing into doorways and shadows. Reasons stayed unclear. Attention stayed sharp, tracking movement, judging distance, watching for anything that might turn toward us. Toward my family. Toward the Compact Cruiser still tethered behind us, following without question. Something else felt wrong. There were too few people. Stories and old shows had painted the end differently. Crowds flooding the streets. Shouting. Violence out in the open. That version would have been easier to understand. Bodies lay along storefronts. Cars sat abandoned in the road, occupants slumped forward or sideways, frozen in place. Doors hung open on several. Some had collapsed halfway out, caught between staying inside and trying to leave. Each one pulled my eyes. Each one carried the same silent question. What happened to them? No wounds showed. No blood stained the ground. Nothing explained the timing or the scale. Time stretched thin. A trip meant to take two hours dragged into four. The Mobile Hauler threaded slowly through blocked streets. Living people appeared now and then. They were not running. They worked.Bodies were lifted and loaded into pickup trucks. Movements were practiced. Faces stayed blank. It was hard to tell whether they acted under orders or simple necessity. Leaving the dead where they fell would only invite something worse. "Are we sure this is the right place?" Elliot asked it softly. His voice still shook. No answer came. The Mobile Hauler pushed deeper into smoke and dim light. Westhaven had once been busy and loud. That truth felt distant now, almost unreal. A dark plume rose ahead. "Anyone else smell that?" Nathan spoke without turning. A nod came without thought. The smell cut through everything. I nodded "Hope it’s not what it feels like." The words carried weight. The scent of cooking meat filled the cabin and lingered. A hand dragged through short hair. "Pretty sure disappointment is guaranteed." The intersection of Patterson and South Holden came into view. Thick black smoke rolled toward us with the wind, clogging the air and cutting down visibility. Shapes moved within it. Even through the haze, the source was clear. The Outer Vehicle Court on the corner had been repurposed. Piles of bodies rose from the pavement. Fire consumed them steadily. Pickup trucks lined the edges, backing in one after another. The dead were dragged out and dropped without ceremony. Groups of men and women grabbed arms and legs, swung to build momentum, then threw the bodies into the flames. No hesitation. No pause. "What happened here?"Elena’s voice barely carried. "Did they starve?" Seraphina followed, disbelief tight and controlled. A slow shake answered. "Little more than three days," Nathan said. "That doesn’t explain this." Coughing spread through the cabin. Smoke scratched the throat and burned deep in the lungs. "Marcus, move us through." The words came fast. The filters were not meant for this. The Mobile Hauler edged forward, swallowed by smoke as Westhaven closed in around us.