The fire had long died out, leaving nothing but a faint glow from the last embers. The storm outside was still relentless, howling against the walls of the cabin, the wind biting at everything in its path. Inside, the air felt thick with silence. No one had spoken for a while.
Elliot sat on the cold floor, knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the smoldering fire. His mind was racing, but nothing seemed to fit together. They couldn't keep running. He had known that for a while now, but the thought was more real than ever. It felt like the storm outside had locked them in, just like everything else.
His father broke the quiet, his voice low and tired. "We need to make a decision."
Elliot looked up, meeting his father's gaze. The older man was standing by the window, looking out into the snow. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable. There was something different about him now—something worn down by the weight of all the choices they had to make.
Ben was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, eyes half-closed, like he was waiting for the storm to make the decision for them.
Elliot shifted his weight, not sure if he wanted to hear what his father had to say.
"What do you mean?" Ben asked, breaking the silence. "We just keep heading north, right?"
His father turned to face them. "We can't keep heading north. Not anymore. The route's too dangerous. We've got no food, no shelter, and the weather's not letting up."
Elliot felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. His father was right. They had been moving for days, barely scraping by. It felt like they were just walking in circles, running out of options.
"We could try the airport," Elliot said before he could stop himself. The words came out almost as a question, but they felt right. It was the only idea they hadn't fully explored yet. "Maybe there's a plane. Maybe we can get out of here."
His father's face was unreadable, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring out the window. Then he shook his head slowly, as if weighing the risk of the idea.
"An airport?" Ben's voice was skeptical. "You think there'll be planes? Or even people there? That's a long shot."
Elliot's father ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I don't know. But we don't have many options left. The way I see it, we either stay here and freeze, or we try to get out of this country. If there's a chance—any chance—we need to take it."
Ben was quiet for a long time, eyes scanning the cabin as if he was looking for a way out of the decision. Then he sighed, a long, heavy sound, and nodded.
"Alright. But we move fast. We can't waste any time. The longer we wait, the worse it'll get."
Elliot's father nodded in agreement. "We'll leave at first light. We don't stop until we get to the airport."
The weight of the decision settled in the air between them. It wasn't a perfect plan. Hell, it wasn't even a good plan. But it was the only one they had. The airport was miles away, through a city that was crawling with the infected. And the chances of finding a plane—if they even made it there—felt almost impossible. But it was the best shot they had.
Elliot stood up, feeling the stiff ache in his legs. He grabbed his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. Max, who had been lying at his feet, stood up too, his ears perked. The dog seemed to sense the change in the air, the tension that was building.
"Ben," his father said, his voice low. "We need your help. You know the city. You've been there before. You lead, and we'll follow."
Ben didn't answer right away. He stared out into the storm, his eyes narrowing. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like he was trying to make sense of the plan too. "I know the way, but it's not gonna be easy. The city's crawling with them. We'll have to move fast, stay low."
Elliot's father grabbed his rifle, checking it one last time. "We move fast, we keep our heads down. We don't take unnecessary risks."
The decision was made. No more talking. No more second-guessing. They were leaving.
They stepped out into the storm, the cold biting at their skin like it was alive. The wind howled, swirling snow around them, but they kept moving. Every step felt heavier than the last. The snow crunched beneath their boots, but the wind made it hard to hear anything else. It felt like they were walking into the unknown, and part of Elliot almost wished they could go back, stay in the cabin, forget about the airport. But there was no turning back now.
The airport was the only chance they had.
Elliot's father moved ahead, his rifle slung across his chest, Max walking at his side. Ben was already ahead of them, moving with a quiet urgency. Elliot followed, the weight of his pack pulling at his shoulders. The world around them was a blur of white, the storm closing in, but they kept moving forward, one step at a time.
They had no idea what awaited them at the airport. But it didn't matter. They couldn't stop now.
Not until they found out.