The road west was a scar cutting through dead land.

For hours, they drove in silence. The city had vanished behind them, swallowed by fog and distance. Ahead stretched cracked pavement and the skeletons of suburbs long abandoned—empty houses with blown-out windows, streets buried under vines and ash.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low, dull and heavy. Everything felt muted. Even the engines seemed quieter here, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Riku's hands stayed on the wheel. His eyes moved constantly—side mirrors, rearview, skyline. The Rezvani's engine hummed steady beneath him, reliable as ever.

Suzune sat beside him, rifle resting across her knees, scanning the roadside with practiced eyes. She broke the silence first.

"Two kilometers ahead, there's a fork. North leads to the industrial sector. West cuts into the hills."

Riku's gaze flicked to the navigation map taped to the dashboard. It was water-damaged, smudged, but still legible. "We'll decide when we see the road conditions."

Behind them, Sato's truck followed close. The last vehicle, carrying Miko, Ichika, and the wounded, kept a steady but slower pace.

Suzune leaned back, arms crossed. "They're running on fumes. If we push too far without finding diesel, we're walking."

Riku nodded. "I know."

The air smelled of metal and rain-soaked dirt. Once in a while, the wind carried something else—the faint rot of corpses somewhere unseen.

They passed through a commercial strip next: shattered storefronts, overturned cars, a supermarket with its sign half torn off. The letters that remained read: SAFE-MART.

Suzune gave it a flat look. "Irony's not dead, at least."

Riku slowed the Rezvani to a crawl. "We'll sweep it."

He keyed the radio clipped to his vest. "Convoy halt. Form up and dismount."

Engines went quiet one by one.

Sato's voice crackled back through the static. "Copy. Two minutes."

Riku cut the engine and stepped out. The cold hit immediately, sharp and clean. His boots sank slightly in the damp ash as he scanned the surroundings.

"Same drill," he said. "Two-man teams. Quick and quiet."

Suzune chambered a round and nodded. "I'll take east flank."

"I'll take the market," Riku said.

Sato joined them, rifle slung across his back. "I'll cover from the truck. If it's clear, we top off water and scavenge food."

"Make it fast," Riku replied. "We don't stay anywhere long."

The supermarket's glass doors were shattered, the floor slick with rainwater and broken glass.

Riku stepped inside, light cutting through gaps in the ceiling. Shelves stood half-collapsed, stripped bare in most places. What remained was rot—moldy cans, burst bags of rice, boxes chewed through by rats.

He moved quietly, scanning every aisle. The smell of mildew was strong, but no other sound broke the stillness.

Suzune's voice came faintly through his earpiece. "Second floor clear. No movement."

Riku crouched near the back, prying open a half-buried crate. Inside, sealed bottles of water—dusty but intact. He exhaled through his nose. "Got something."

Moments later, Ichika appeared at the doorway, shotgun in hand. "You find booze in there, I call dibs."

Riku didn't look up. "Water."

"Close enough," she muttered.

She stepped over debris, peering into another aisle. "Man, imagine people used to argue here about cereal and discounts."

"Keep your mind on the present."

"I am. I'm present and miserable."

Riku ignored her. He loaded bottles into a crate and slung it over his shoulder.

On the way out, they passed the freezer section. Frost still clung to the glass, faint but real—the generators must've been running on emergency solar.

Suzune joined them near the door, raising an eyebrow. "Ice after the end of the world. Guess miracles exist."

Ichika opened one unit and laughed quietly. "Frozen pizza. Should we pray or cry?"

"Neither," Riku said. "Move."

They regrouped at the trucks fifteen minutes later. Miko was helping Kenji siphon water into containers while Hana and Yui sorted what little food they'd found—mostly canned fruit and sealed pasta.

Sato approached, face lined with exhaustion. "Any sign of raiders?"

"Nothing recent," Suzune said. "Tracks are old. Week, maybe more."

"Good."

Riku loaded the crates into the Rezvani's rear compartment. "We keep heading north until we find the split. If the road's clear, we push to the industrial zone before nightfall."

Sato frowned. "That far? The trucks won't handle rough terrain well."

"Then we leave them behind if we have to."

Miko overheard that, looking up sharply. "We can't just abandon them. The wounded—"

Riku met her eyes, voice even. "If it comes to that, we choose who can live."

Miko's lips trembled. "There has to be another way."

Suzune stepped in quietly. "There usually isn't."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Hana, sitting on the truck bed beside Yui, broke it softly. "We'll make it. Right, Onii-chan?"

Riku glanced at her. For once, his voice softened. "Yeah. We will."

They drove again.

By afternoon, the road began to change. The pavement cracked wider, weeds bursting through like veins. Power lines leaned at odd angles, and billboards rusted to skeleton frames.

The convoy slowed as the ground sloped upward toward the ridge. From there, the view stretched far—the endless sprawl of the dead city behind them, and the faint outline of old smokestacks ahead.

Suzune pointed. "Industrial zone's maybe ten clicks that way. Still standing, looks like."

Riku's eyes followed the direction. The air above the factories shimmered faintly, smoke or fog—it was impossible to tell.

"Could be habitable," she said. "Could be a death trap."

"Same as everywhere," he replied.

They descended from the ridge carefully, tires crunching gravel. The trucks creaked under the strain.

Halfway down, Ichika's voice cut through the radio. "Something ahead. Smoke column, north-northwest. Big one."

Riku slowed the Rezvani. "Distance?"

"Maybe three kilometers."

"Could be raiders again," Suzune said.

"Could be worse," Riku muttered.

He parked the Rezvani behind an overturned bus and motioned for Suzune to follow. They climbed the roof of a nearby building to get a better view.

Through her scope, Suzune adjusted focus. "It's a refinery. Still burning. Can't tell if it's active or just leaking."

"Any movement?"

"None visible. But something's feeding that fire."

Riku took a long look through his binoculars. Black smoke curled into the sky from a ruptured pipeline. Metal scaffolding sagged like broken bones.

He lowered the binoculars. "We'll camp two clicks short. I don't want to walk into that blind."

By the time they stopped, dusk had already begun to bleed across the sky.

They set camp in the shadow of an old overpass. The air smelled of oil and rust. Fires were kept small, hidden under the bridge pillars.

Miko tended to the wounded again. Yui helped her change bandages, careful and quiet. Hana sat nearby with Ichika, playing cards by lantern light.

Kenji stood guard with an old hunting rifle, shaking every time thunder rolled in the distance.

Suzune cleaned her weapon beside Riku, who was staring at the horizon where the smoke still rose.

"You're thinking again," she said.

"Always."

"About the refinery?"

"About what comes after it."

She gave a small nod. "You think it's worth checking?"

"It's a structure. Could be cover, could be resources. We'll see in daylight."

Sato approached then, lowering himself to sit beside them. His movements were slow, deliberate.

"We lost four people today," he said quietly. "They couldn't keep up."

Riku didn't ask for names. "We'll lose more if we stop moving."

Sato gave a humorless chuckle. "You really don't sugarcoat anything, do you?"

"Lies get people killed."

Sato looked at him, studying the hard lines of his face. "You ever let yourself hope, Riku?"

Riku didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the children laughing softly near the lantern light.

"Sometimes," he said finally. "When I'm not looking."

Sato smiled faintly. "Then maybe that's enough."

That night, rain returned—thin, cold, relentless.

Riku took first watch. The others slept in scattered circles beneath tarps and truck covers. The sound of droplets on metal became a rhythm he knew too well.

At some point, Suzune replaced him, crouching by the fireless coals. "You need rest," she said quietly.

"So do you."

She shrugged. "I'm used to it."

Riku glanced toward the horizon again. The refinery still burned faintly in the distance, a red smear against the clouds.

"Tomorrow," he said, "we see if there's anything left to use."

"And if there isn't?"

"Then we keep going west."

She smirked. "You ever stop moving?"

He looked at her, expression unreadable. "Only when I'm dead."

Suzune didn't laugh—but she didn't look away either.

Morning came bleak and colorless.

They broke camp fast, leaving behind only ashes. The air was colder now, sharper. The convoy moved out at first light, following the cracked road toward the refinery.

As they drew closer, the smoke thickened. Ash drifted down like gray snow.

The refinery loomed out of the haze—massive metal towers, storage tanks, and catwalks twisted by explosions. The main gate hung open, half-melted.

Riku stopped the Rezvani at the perimeter. "Looks abandoned."

Suzune raised her scope. "No bodies. No movement."

"That's what worries me."

Sato pulled up beside them, his window sliding down. "What do you think?"

Riku's answer was simple. "We check it. Carefully."

The ground inside was slick with oil and rainwater. Puddles shimmered like black mirrors. The air burned the nose—chemical and sharp.

They moved in formation. Riku and Suzune led, Sato's men following with flashlights. The buildings loomed above like sleeping giants.

Inside one warehouse, they found rows of fuel drums—some full, others ruptured. The smell was suffocating but promising.

Suzune checked a gauge. "Diesel. Usable."

Riku nodded once. "Good. We refuel and move on before the fire spreads."

Miko's voice came through the radio, urgent. "Riku, you need to see this. West side of the compound."

They ran.

Behind one of the tanks, half-buried under debris, lay a fenced bunker entrance—still powered. A faint red light blinked on the control panel.

Sato stared. "Someone's still using this."

Riku brushed grime off the metal plate. Words etched above the keypad read:

EMERGENCY SHELTER - LEVEL 3 ACCESS ONLY

Suzune exhaled. "Military installation?"

"Or corporate," Riku said. "Either way, it's sealed tight."

Sato looked at him. "What now?"

Riku's hand tightened on his rifle. "Now we find out who's inside."

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