The storm had barely let up. The wind still howled, biting at their faces, making it feel like they were walking through a wall of ice. The snow, thick and relentless, swirled around them, turning the world into a blinding white blur. Elliot pulled his jacket tighter around him, wishing it would do more to keep the cold out. But it didn't. Nothing did.
Ben was walking just ahead of them, his steps heavy in the deep snow. His face was still pale, and there was something about the way he moved that seemed… off. Maybe it was just the cold. Maybe it was just the fear, gnawing at all of them. But Elliot couldn't shake the feeling that Ben was hiding something.
Max trotted ahead, his tail tucked low. The dog hadn't been as alert since they'd met Ben. His ears flicked every now and then, but there was a kind of tiredness to him, like he was worn out from the constant vigilance. Maybe Max sensed something too. Maybe he didn't.
Elliot glanced at his father. He was walking with the same stiff posture, eyes scanning the storm around them. His rifle was still gripped tight in his hands, ready for whatever might come. But even he seemed distracted, lost in thought.
"What now?" Elliot asked, his voice muffled by the wind.
His father didn't answer immediately. He just kept walking, the crunch of his boots the only sound for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, like he was fighting against something in his own mind. "We find shelter. Keep moving until we can't anymore."
That wasn't much of an answer. Elliot could feel the weight of it in his chest, the same weight that had been pressing on him since everything had fallen apart. They were running, always running, never really knowing where they were going, just trying to stay one step ahead of whatever it was that had changed the world. And it wasn't just the virus, either. It was the fear, the uncertainty. The way people had turned on each other.
The infected were only part of it. The real danger was everything else—the desperation, the lies, the unknown.
Elliot's eyes shifted to Ben, who was still ahead of them. He could barely see the boy through the storm, but he could feel his presence like a weight on the air. Ben hadn't said much since they'd joined them, just a few words here and there. He seemed to be keeping to himself, his eyes distant. Maybe he was tired, too. Maybe he was just scared. But Elliot wasn't sure. There was something else in the way Ben moved, something guarded, like he was waiting for something to happen.
"Do you think he's lying?" Elliot asked quietly.
His father's jaw tightened, but he didn't look at him. "I don't know. But we can't afford to take chances."
Elliot nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn't loosen. They had to trust Ben, at least for now. What choice did they have? It was either that or risk facing the wilderness alone again. And Elliot knew what that felt like. He knew the emptiness of the snow, the silence that pressed in from all sides.
They kept walking, the wind howling in their ears, their footsteps muffled by the thick snow. Every so often, Elliot's gaze would drift back to Ben, watching the way the boy moved, his eyes constantly darting around, scanning the snow. He wasn't walking like someone who had nothing left to lose. He was walking like someone who had seen things—things Elliot wasn't sure he was ready to understand.
The silence stretched on, broken only by the occasional snap of a branch or the creak of the snow underfoot. Elliot tried to keep his mind busy, to stop it from wandering to darker places, but it wasn't easy. His thoughts kept drifting back to his parents—his mother's smile, his father's steady hands. The world had been so different then. He remembered warmth. He remembered laughter. But it was all gone now, buried under a blanket of snow and blood.
"Do you think we'll make it?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
His father didn't answer right away. Instead, he stopped, looking around. His eyes were sharp, scanning the storm, looking for something, anything that could give them a sign. A direction. But there was nothing. Just the endless white.
"I don't know," his father said, his voice soft, almost like he was talking to himself. "But we keep going. That's all we can do."
Elliot swallowed, trying to push down the fear rising in his throat. It wasn't the first time he'd heard those words. He had heard them from his father countless times, back when the world had still made sense. But now they felt different, empty somehow.
He glanced at Ben again. The boy was looking back at them now, his face shadowed by the snow. There was something in his eyes—something desperate, something wild. Elliot couldn't put his finger on it, but it made his skin crawl.
"Ben," Elliot called, his voice barely carrying over the wind.
The boy turned, his face tense. "What?"
"Where exactly are we headed?" Elliot asked. "I mean, you said there was a safe place. Where is it?"
Ben hesitated, his eyes flicking between Elliot and his father. "It's a place I heard about," he said slowly, his voice low. "A settlement. Farther north. People are still alive there. Or at least... they were."
The way he said it made Elliot's stomach tighten. "Were?"
Ben looked away, his expression clouding over. "I don't know," he said. "I haven't been there yet. I'm just trying to find it. That's all."
The uncertainty in his voice sent a chill down Elliot's spine.
"Keep moving," his father said abruptly, his voice hard again. "We don't have time for doubts."
They continued on, the storm growing worse with every step. The wind cut deeper, and the snow piled higher. But they kept moving, driven by the faint hope that somewhere, beyond the blizzard, beyond the madness, there was something—someone—waiting for them.
A place to rest. A place to rebuild. A place where they could be safe.
At least, that's what they told themselves.