Taking a deep breath, Rolen stood up from behind the car, looking around cautiously before his gaze found its way inside said car.

Sure, the model was old and rusty, but so far it seemed to be untouched by the infected. With trembling hands, the engineer pulled the handle of the back door, only for nothing to happen. Of course, the door was locked.

Nathan said nothing as he eyed Rolen’s actions, watching with intrigue at the other's thoughtful expression. He slowly got up as well, and with one sharp movement, rammed his elbow straight through the car's passenger seat window—the sound of glass shattering ramming through their eardrums and echoing through the silent street.

Rolen didn’t even know he was holding his breath until he released it. Other than the already moaning infected in some of the buildings, nothing seemed to have heard that.

The fact that a car alarm didn’t go blaring, however, worried the engineer. If it didn’t have enough power for an alarm, then getting it running was going to be downright impossible without an outside source.

After Nathan unlocked the door, Rolen crawled in, making sure to avoid the glass shards before sticking his head underneath the steering wheel and starting to pull cables—pausing for just a second when he finally found the ignition cables.

Nathan watched with interest. He had no idea this kid had knowledge about cars. That, or he was just doing something random he had seen too many times in movies. Either way, this did go to show that he could still think on his feet.

While Nathan glanced around, making sure nothing came to surprise them, the palm of his hand resting on the handle of his bloody knife, Rolen finally got what he needed, and within minutes the stuttering started.

The battery didn’t have much to give, but if Rolen could start it just once, then that would be enough for now.

One spark.

Two sparks.

"Come on..." Rolen muttered to himself, the sweat almost trickling down his forehead.

And with one final try, the vehicle came roaring to life—the soft humming of the engine filling the quiet road. A self-satisfactory grin found its way onto the goth’s face as he sat up in the driver’s seat.

It didn’t come without its problems, though. With the car now functioning also came a deep groan from a nearby alleyway.
The infected now knew their location too.

Nathan didn’t waste a second, brushing some of the glass off the passenger seat before climbing in himself and closing the car door with a bang. The echoing of shoes hitting the pavement, followed by the moaning and groaning of the infected, made Rolen’s heartbeat quicken and his hands start shaking once more.

His eyes darted around the car, his feet moving before he could even pick a direction, putting the pedal to the metal.
Nathan sucked in a breath, his knuckles white as his hand gripped the dashboard while the car started moving.

Something slammed onto the hood with a shriek.
Rolen flinched, nearly jerking the wheel.
Not just an infected.
A Type 2.
Its red eyes burned through the windshield, mouth stretched into that unnatural grin—half laughter, half scream.

Its red eyes stared straight at Rolen’s terrified face. Meanwhile, Rolen, not knowing how to respond, just turned the wheel left and right, swerving the car around the road in an attempt to shake it off.

Just when it pulled its fist back to hit the windshield, Rolen quickly stepped on the brake, causing it to fly off and straight through the window of one of the stores.

More moaning and groaning could be heard from the distance behind them. Nathan’s gaze flicked over to the mirror on the side of the car.
Sure enough, more infected shuffled through the street.

Before anything could be said, Rolen had already turned the wheel and floored the gas, quickly putting some distance between them and the infected.

The ride left much to be desired, between the tension of potential danger still fresh on their minds. Silence soon fell over them. Nathan felt his eyes drifting over to the driver’s seat. Rolen was still gripping the wheel like it might dissolve at any minute, his knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto it—making the combat medic aware of how fragile his state was right now.

Rolen tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept flashing back to the eyes—those burning red eyes, the very same eyes Nathan had in his vision, and the way it moved. It had purpose. Intelligence

"You did well," Nathan stated, breaking the suffocating silence—earning a slight jump from Rolen. His words already eased the engineer’s tense body as they registered in his mind.

"I didn’t know you could hotwire a car. Impressive." He continued before slowly taking out his phone, watching his now cracked screen light up. It was already below 30%.

A soft but forced chuckle left the goth’s lips. "Just graduated as an engineer, so at least I’m not fully useless."

Nathan's eyes glanced back over to Rolen for a moment before looking back down at his screen—the address still open on Google Maps.

"The fact that you don't freeze already makes you more useful than most. Although… we are currently going the wrong way."
Nathan turned his phone screen towards Rolen, who glanced at it for just a moment—the little blue dot moving further and further away from the address of their apartment building. Further away from Damon.

His hands tightened on the wheel. He didn’t say anything.

He still believed Damon was alive—he had to be.
But after everything they'd just seen... the infected… the Type 2…

A seed of doubt began to sprout, sharp and unwanted.

The idea of going back the other way was enough to make Rolen nervous and tense up once more.

"Let’s take the scenic route this time, hm?" Nathan said, a small smile tugging at his lips—earning a sigh of relief from the engineer.

"Yeah, let’s do that."

The buildings on the side of the road started to become fewer and fewer. The road they ended up on led out of the city. He knew he had to make a turn at some point, but Rolen couldn’t really bring himself to turn the wheel just yet.

He just hoped Damon was still alive somewhere in that building.