They came out of the woods like spectres from a grave. As pale as cleaved bone, with eyes as black as lumps of coal. They moved as one, a hive-mind with a single purpose. It was feeding time. Many of them still wore the hospital gowns they'd died in, like crude funeral dress for a passing that had never truly come. Those gowns were as white as their flesh, but Seamus knew that on the crossing back, they'd be splashed red with blood.

It was late, past midnight, and they were back on the road. Already the service station was a memory of another time, another life. They'd managed to cover some miles before the storm had swallowed up all glimmer of light and the things living in the dirt of the forests had risen, protected by the darkness, to seek fresh meat.

Only a fool would continue to travel once the lights went out.

In the back seat, Gabriel had sunk so low in his chair that only the top wisps of his thick brown hair could be seen in the rear-view mirror. His bony knees pushed uncomfortably into the back of Seamus' seat, right against a sore spot he'd been nursing since fleeing West River.

The storm had moved off somewhere to the east, all that remained of its existence was the occasional dull rumble of thunder from a place far far beyond them. It was another sound that filled their ears now, naked flesh slapping crudely against the asphalt as hundreds of misshapen beasts made their nightly pilgrimage to the neighbouring towns and cities beyond this road. They were a different breed of monster altogether under the cover of stars and moonlight, smarter somehow, a more conniving and thoughtful killer.

A sudden bump against the passenger side of the Cortina had Seamus throwing his hands over his mouth, silencing the startled squeak working its way sharply up the column of his throat. One of the creatures had stumbled blindly against them, it was paused now in stupidity, its link to the hive severed. It brought its hands up, feeling the curve and shape of the vehicle, following it around to the back where Gabriel had-somehow-managed to sink his long body even lower.

Seamus didn't dare breathe. His heart was beating like a clenched fist against the cage of his ribs, so loud in his chest that he felt certain that the creature must hear it, and when it did so too would all the other creatures out on the road, and they'd come straight for them, ripping the car apart like a cruel child with an insect. And then they'd rip their bodies apart in the same manner.

The creature worked its way around the Cortina one ambling step at a time until it was clear of it. Seamus watched it climb over the central reservation and rejoin its hive. Together they disappeared into the trees on the other side.

Only once he was sure the passing had been made, did Seamus allow himself to breathe again. The first greedy gasp of stale car air filled his burning lungs with all the agony of a sharp blade through his gut. He took a slower, less desperate second breath, easing himself back into a rhythm approaching normal.

Gabriel was the first to speak. “I don't think I'll ever get used to this.”

Hoping he didn't sound as out-of-his-wits terrified as he felt, Seamus said, “We just need to keep quiet and keep still. As long as we manage that, we can make it through to the morning. Then we'll carry on.” His voice only tremored once.

“I know the drill.” snapped Gabriel. He'd rearranged his long limbs, pushing himself back into his seat and now his face could be seen again in the rear-view mirror, basked in the dim silver of moonlight. “It doesn't mean that I enjoy us being in this position. Again.”

This certainly wasn't the first time they'd found themselves stuck out on the road, trying not to move, not to breathe, not to exist, as the dead came alive and wandered before them, behind them, over them in a sea of white and red. Nor was it the second or third. The days were growing shorter, the storms more frequent, and the roads ever longer.

Seamus found his thoughts turning dark as the storm waging in the east. He was angry, sitting there in a dead man's seat, driving a dead man's car, calling a dead man's shots. He wasn't a leader, he'd never wanted to be a leader. It was Jermaine's fancy Utopian idea they were chasing after, it was Jermaine's responsibility to get them there! Why'd the stupid, selfish bastard have to go and get himself killed?

“Well we're in it now.” said Seamus through gritted teeth. “And we're just going to have to deal with it. Unless you've got a better idea? I'm all ears.”

Gabriel scowled at him through the mirror. He really did have lovely big brown eyes, but they were always shrunken now in anger, or squinting in distaste.

“No?” Seamus continued. “Then get off my fucking back.”