In the space of less than twenty-four hours the apartment block had gone from home to yet another abandoned relic. It was empty and desolate. Everything echoed without any treasured possessions to soak up the sound. A sombre mood infected everyone after the final car rolled out of view. It was strange hearing the familiar rumble of an engine after so much silence.

Scott put an arm around Virgil's shoulders at some point during the farewells and ended up keeping it there as much for his own comfort as for Virgil's. It was as if the survival group had taken all the good humour with them. There was very little cheer left to go around. Not even Theo could muster a smile. The calm of domesticity had departed and now all that was left was the brutal reality of survival.

It didn't take long to stock the backpacks with supplies. This time they could afford to be picky and actually consider what they needed to take rather than sweeping everything into bags in a rush and hoping they hadn't forgotten anything crucial.

John tacked his weather map to the fridge for them to keep an eye on whilst cross-referencing with the clock so that they didn't end up venturing into the heart of an acid rain downpour. Marisa and Virgil made a checklist consisting of everything from combat boots to rehydration sachets to the packet of Goldfish which Alan and Jasmin had been eyeing in the cupboard all morning. It was an efficient system and cut their packing time in half, but Scott was still tired by the time they were finished which was why it took him nearly ten minutes to realise that Gordon and Alan were missing.

Once upon a time his concern would have been for his own fate at the hands of some ill-fated prank, but Gordon and Alan could hardly be called the Terrible Two these days. Now their schemes tended to focus around making sure Finch was happy – because a sad dog was possibly even more tragic than the actual apocalypse – or choosing which tin to open for dinner rations. Still, Scott's Big Brother instincts were tingling, so he crept out of the room and went in search of the missing duo.

Gordon's voice carried louder in the empty hallway. Scott was glad he was still in socks and was therefore able to creep into the apartment unheard. Gordon and Alan were in a heated discussion in the lounge, Gordon's voice loud and laced with concern while Alan's signing was exaggerated, his face was flushed with indignation. Neither of them noticed Scott at first.

"It's normal!"

"How is it normal? I thought the meds were supposed to help!"

"And they are, but it's not a miracle cure. I'm not going to magically make a full recovery overnight. I might not ever make a full recovery and I…"

"Alan," Gordon whispered painfully.

"No, don't do that. Don't say my name like that. It's fine." Alan took a deep breath. "It's just something I have to get used to. I'll never get to be an Olympian like you now, but at least I'm still alive, right? And I- I can go back to being an astronaut eventually. It just takes time. You know all about that. It's fine."

"Didn't sound fine, Al."

Alan sank heavily onto the couch. "I know."

"Kinda sounded like it hurt."

"Maybe it does. A little bit, anyway. But it's just a cough. The meds are gonna work." He caught Gordon's gaze pleadingly. "Don't tell Scott. He'll worry too much."

Scott was out of Alan's line of view, but he knew damn well that Gordon was aware of his presence. And yet, despite that, Gordon squared his shoulders and nodded.

"Alright. I won't tell him about your terrifying coughing fit." He was clearly recounting the details for Scott's benefit. "But next time you end up fucking wheezing like that, you need to ask for help."

Alan flopped onto his back. "I had it under control. You… helped. But I was fine."

"Uh huh," Gordon said dryly, swatting Alan's ankles. "Whatever you say, rocket-kid. Now, c'mon, move your ass and help."

"Gordon."

"What?"

Alan frowned up at him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend."

Gordon's chuckle was so obviously fake that it hurt to hear. "I'm not pretending. Who said I'm pretending?"

"You're not okay. Pretending that you are is only going to hurt you more, so don't do that for my benefit just because I'm younger. I've got your back, okay? You need to trust me. I'm not going to think any less of you for being a mess. All of us are messes right now. So, just…"

Alan pushed himself upright and it struck Scott just how close the kid was in height to Gordon these days.

"Stop with the act, yeah?"

He still had to rise onto his toes slightly in order to hug Gordon – or at least to wrap him up in a proper bear hug. Gordon looked somewhat dumbfounded but automatically pulled him close.

"You've got my back."

Alan rocked back on his heels to shoot him a confused look. "Obviously?"

"Even after everything I've done."

It was more of a statement than a question, which only made it more painful.

"I thought maybe… I dunno. It's dumb. I know you understand why I've had to make certain choices but that doesn't necessarily mean you still want to be around me."

"I know you're not John, but you're still smarter than this."

"Thanks," Gordon deadpanned.

"Everything you've done is to protect us. Why would I hold that against you? You're my brother, Gordon, of course I still want you around. Don't be an idiot. I love you, dumbass."

"I'm really feeling that love, what with all the insults."

"Shut up."

Alan hauled him back into a hug.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Scott retreated from a conversation that was not his to overhear. He ended up on the roof where John had supposedly gone to compare his weather map with visual observations.

The door was an off-putting shade of old blood and the hinges squealed, announcing his arrival, but John didn't look away from the cityscape. A rusted fire escape protruded from the wall, running down the side of the building to the ash-swept parking lot below. John was standing on the top platform, gripping the rail tightly enough to cause aching knuckles in the cold air despite his gloves. He was silhouetted against the filthy orange of the sky, map discarded at his feet and pinned in place under one heel.

"Hey," Scott called, unsure whether his brother had heard the door slam shut or not.

It was difficult to tell if John was actually present in the moment or caught up in the chaos of the hivemind. Scott didn't like to think about in too much detail. He deliberately ground his heels so that the ash crunched underfoot.

John glanced up at his approach. "It's gone quiet."

Scott double-took. "What?"

"Ever since the radiation levels spiked," John elaborated, expression unreadable as he examined the tyre tracks below which vanished amid sprawling suburbs before breaking free beyond a rural horizon. It was difficult to gauge his body language through the radiation suit, but his voice had grown quieter, wondering, a whisper tainted by confusion. "I can still hear it to an extent, but not like before. It's muted."

"Like a scrambled radio signal?"

"No. It's a clear link, just…"

"Quiet?"

John ran a thumb along the railing. The wind carried ash from his fingertips.

"Exactly," he murmured, voice drowning in unease. "I don't understand it. You know how much I hate not knowing things."

"Control freak," Scott teased, but John shook his head, gaze stony as he glanced up at the desolate clouds.

"No. Not control. If I don't understand something, I can't protect any of you from it. Why do you think I have so many qualifications?"

"Because you're an overachiever."

"Half of them are entirely irrelevant to working in space. I studied them in order to help each of you in the field. So not knowing why the hivemind is quieter now? Hell, not understanding how it works even on a basic level – that scares me."

John retrieved the map from under his heels and stared at it without truly seeing any of the markings.

"The hivemind is still a threat. That makes my presence a risk, on top of all the other risks we're already taking, and I can't convey to you how deeply uncomfortable that makes me. We can't afford to mess up. We could fix our mistakes before but now… even a minor error could spell catastrophe."

Scott braced his elbows against the railing and tipped forwards to peer into the void. Low cloud swamped the bases of buildings. This high up it appeared as if the ground no longer existed. It reminded him of a video game when the world hadn't finished loading. Anxiety slithered down his spine in an icy chill.

"What are you thinking?"

John forced himself to take a breath. "Wherever we end up next – if it's GDF or a private bunker – either way, we have to tell them about me."

"That's a risk in itself, Johnny." Scott stared into the clouds and wondered if he could trick himself into imagining that beyond that haze the world was still intact. "They're more likely to shoot first and ask questions later. You know that."

"Either we get this thing out of my system for good, or we split up. I'm done putting all of you at risk." John held up a hand. "No, don't start. I know you're already in danger. But right now I'm only adding to that. So. No matter who they are – we have to ask them for help. I'll do it with or without your approval, but I'd feel a lot better about it if I know you have my back."

Scott was struck by an uncanny sense of déjà vu. He couldn't recall the exact details but despite the change in both setting and context, there was something strangely familiar about it.

"It's your decision," he replied at last. "I don't like it, but it's not my call to make. Just don't keep me in the dark, that's all I ask." He tried to glimpse John out of the corner of his eye, but radiation filters were bulky. "At least try to be sensible about this though. If it turns out to be another trigger happy GDF bunker…"

"I'll make an informed decision."

Through visors the world appeared distinctly alien, cast in a toxic tangerine hue. Trees groaned in the wind. Leaves were already curling into scorched crisps which Scott swore were tinged crimson. He recalled those radioactive trees from weeks back. The entire city had given him the creeps from the get-go, but his desire to run hadn't been this strong in days. Invisible death was snapping at their heels and, despite knowing that the next train wasn't for another hour, he longed to leave already.

He drew his thoughts back to the immediate conversation. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this?"

John gave one of those carefully constructed shrugs – intended to convey nonchalance but really revealing that he'd thought through each way this discussion could have played out and therefore had an answer prepared for everything.

"I've talked with Virgil."

"And?"

"And we don't really have any other options. We- I need help. Wherever these trains are headed presumably have those resources. Doing nothing isn't an option – meds don't seem to have much of an impact anymore and the fire trick won't last forever."

South of the apartment blocks was entirely obscured by thick smoke. Or was that ash? Smog? Low cloud? A mixture of fallout and dust? The old IR console downstairs might have been able to run an analysis although it wouldn't be precise without a link to TB5 and besides, Scott didn't particularly want to know the details. All he knew was that they needed to get the hell outta dodge, yesterday.

An unholy scream echoed through the ash.

Scott jolted away from the rail. "What the fuck was that?"

"The infected," John murmured, taking a step back. "The ones that didn't make it out – the radiation is killing them."

"The radiation was killing them at the airfield, but they didn't sound like that."

"Sound travels differently. Ash, empty buildings… There are a lot of factors."

They exchanged a glance.

"Ready to get out of here?"

John shivered and gave him a shove towards the door. "If I had my way we'd have left already."


The majority of infected had already fled north beyond the suburbs. Marisa recounted that the creatures had continued in their eerie silence, plodding relentlessly onwards. Those who fell were left to be buried by ash.

At least they sort of got a grave, Scott thought darkly, recalling the bodies which had decomposed in cars or under the poisonous sun or even those who had died at their own hand in homes which had become tombs.

But that was beside the point. The main issue remained radiation. The overalls were good but weren't designed for elevated levels of exposure and, according to calculations – of which there were multiple, checked twice by different pairs of eyes – it would take too long to reach the railway on foot. The radiation would seep through the protective layers. It had been bad enough yesterday, but now the storm was almost overhead, and so levels were that much higher.

"We need another way to get there which is quicker than walking," Virgil summarised, stuffing the console into his backpack.

Marisa's smile held a hint of mischief. If she ever met Kayo, the two would probably get on like a house on fire – a reality which would either save the world or doom it further.

"Technically," she began slowly, catching Jasmin's eye, "we might have a solution to that."

Theo frowned. "We do?"

"Oh yeah," Jasmin chimed in, smirking. "It's downstairs."

By downstairs, Jasmin meant the garage. It had only been an hour since the last of the cars had departed but already it held a haunted feel. Gaps in the dust showed where vehicles had been parked.

Marisa flicked the light switch, but the place remained in darkness. "Are you serious right now? They were working fine an hour ago."

"Step aside," Theo instructed with look of gleeful evil. He smacked his fist so heavily into the control panel that the entire thing shivered.

The lights blinked twice, then shone steadily.

"Ah ha!" Theo cradled his aching fist to his chest, smile brighter than the LEDs. "Did you see that? That's how you do it, folks."

Gordon leant in close to Virgil to whisper, "Holy crap, this kid knows the Jeff Tracy fix. Okay, he can stay. Dad would approve."

A large dust sheet protected something parked along the far wall. Marisa wrestled it free, but it kept getting snagged. Alan ducked to his knees and rolled underneath to free the cloth. Marisa kicked it aside to reveal a set of gleaming motorcycles.

"Oh no," John whispered plaintively.

Theo held up a hand like a grade schooler. "Uh, since when do we have motorcycles? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because you're a walking hazard," Jasmin deadpanned, jabbing him in the ribs so that he leapt aside with a squawk.

Scott tried to maintain a neutral expression and failed miserably.

John took one look at him and sighed. "Goddamn speed demon."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to."

"Five motorcycles," Virgil counted aloud, attempting to ignore them. "And eight of us."

"I can drive," Alan was quick to mention.

"Not one of those," Scott pointed out, mildly terrified by the idea of Alan riding a motorcycle, which was a ridiculous fear given the kid had flown around the sun and back, but then again he had also crashed FAB0 into a flowerbed, so.

Alan looked genuinely offended. "Yes, I can! Kayo taught me!"

Gordon's snigger suggested that he had not only been aware of those secret lessons but had also aided in the coverup. He spied Scott's scowl and ducked behind Virgil with a muffled squawk which translated roughly as don't kill me it was Kayo's idea.

A low rumble trembled underfoot and overhead. A thin network of cracks spread across one of the support pillars to form a concrete spiderweb. Already the roof was looking fairly unstable, with tiny bits of grit falling like hailstones from the growing cracks.

Marisa ran a hand over glossy paintwork and turned to face them.

"So?" She arched a brow, struggling to hold back a grin at the looks on their faces. "Are we getting out of here or not? Pick a partner, boys, and let's scram."

Jasmin crossed to her sister's side. "I'm riding with you, right?"

"Obviously." Marisa's tone was that particular brand of fond exasperation that Scott had once been used to hearing over the comms on rescues. "Helmet, Jazz."

"What? No. Mari, come on, how am I supposed to wear that over my radiation suit?"

Marisa jammed it over Jasmin's mask, openly laughing. "Like this."

Jasmin rotated the visor so that Marisa could glimpse her scowl. "I strongly dislike you sometimes."

"Sure, you do," Marisa drawled, entirely confident that this was a lie. She kicked her chosen motorcycle off its stand and wheeled it out of the way of the remaining four. "Ready?"

She slung a leg over the saddle. Jasmin tugged at the uncomfortable crease where the helmet had squashed her suit but obediently slid on without any protests, slinking her arms around Marisa's middle and lifting her feet up as the engine grumbled into life.

Virgil shouldered his backpack. "At least the engines start. That's one less problem, right?"

"Only a million more issues left," Gordon quipped, smacking John on the bicep as he sidled over to a black motorcycle with a single dash of gold across the rear wheel. "C'mon, let's hit the road."

Scott glanced at John curiously. "You're going with Gordon?"

John shrugged. "Guess so."

Theo toed a tyre dubiously. He plunged his hands into his jacket pockets, evidently uncomfortable with the idea despite his initial bravado. He backed up a pace until he accidentally knocked into Alan, eyes owlishly wide with uncertainty. He looked a little nauseous through the orange hue of his visor.

"This is safe, right?"

Alan looked faintly amused, which was fair enough because in contrast to flying into a rescue zone, technically yes, this was safe, but if you were comparing it to Theo's lifestyle of hiding in an apartment block ever since the outbreak had begun then no, it was a significant shift in his odds of survival.

Theo read this off Alan's face and cringed. "Oh, God. Okay. Cool. This is…" He shivered. "Not great, actually. Can I ride with you? Is that okay?" He clung onto Alan's arm like a lifeline. "Too late, it's happening." His voice rose in a fearful pitch. "I'm stealing your brother, sorry!"

Scott went to protest that no, no way in hell was Alan going to be in charge of a motorcycle only for Virgil's elbow to jab in the ribs before he could vocalise these thoughts. In the time it took for him to shoot his brother a betrayed look, Alan had already stolen one of the final three bikes and was in the process of recalling year-old memories, managing to start the engine despite Theo practically crushing his ribs, clinging onto him like a limpet, and so Scott couldn't really do anything to stop the pair.

"This is a terrible idea," he muttered to Virgil.

Virgil didn't look concerned. "Actually, I think it's a great plan. Gives Alan a sense of autonomy and uh… gives them a chance to bond. As friends, I mean."

"It's the apocalypse. Please tell me you are not still trying to meddle in our love lives."

"Of course not." Virgil grinned. "I'm not John."

All traces of high spirits vanished as another mini quake shook the building's foundations. Scott ducked instinctively as a heavy chunk of concrete collapsed in the space he'd just been standing. Virgil grabbed his wrist and hauled him out of the way.

"Holy shit," Gordon shouted above the thunder of falling rubble. "Go! Now!"

"Uh, Virg? You've ridden one of these before, right?" Scott more fell onto the motorcycle than anything else, but a lack of gracefulness didn't prevent him from instinctively reaching for controls and falling into old habit as if he had never switched to cars over bikes.

Virgil floundered for a second but recovered. "Not since college!"

His shout was almost drowned out by the growl of engines as Marisa careered towards the exit, Alan and Gordon hot on her heels. Theo was screaming. Jasmin's chin was tucked over Marisa's shoulder to see the path ahead. John had his eyes shut which, to be fair, was a smart strategy when it was Gordon at the wheel. Scott waited until Virgil had cleared the garage before slamming on the accelerator and plunging into the smoky mix of falling ash, scorched rubber and exhaust fumes.

It was a throwback to wildfire rescues: smoke so thick that he could have held a hand in front of his face and still not seen it. Headlights barely penetrated the thick ash. He could barely glimpse the glowing controls right in front of him. The engine's growl increased to a protesting shriek in thick air. He could feel it trembling under his hands, warning that if he pushed it much harder he'd find himself without any wheels at all.

Up ahead, lights flickered in-and-out of view. He couldn't see Marisa at all. Gordon and John had also vanished amid the smoke. He could just about glimpse Alan's taillights. It was unnerving being out of contact despite only being metres apart. He was so close to Virgil's bike that he could have reached out and touched his brother's arm.

It was a game of odds – he couldn't see the path ahead and so had to trust that there wasn't any debris blocking the way. He was going too fast to brake in time but slowing down would increase radiation exposure. He tightened his hands to fists around the handlebars and trusted his instincts, swerving to avoid the battered body of an infected before his conscious mind had even caught up with his observing senses. If anything, the smoke seemed to be getting thicker. It was darker than a moonless night and he longed for his IR gear with illuminated seams and built-in flashlight.

For a brief moment, he was entirely alone. The city was lost to the darkness. He couldn't spy even a glimmer of red taillights. Under his hands the motorcycle was choking on ash but gave a throaty snarl as he coaxed it faster until the accelerator maxed out. Metal flashed to his left and he slowed to match Virgil's speed. Taillights ahead gleamed like eyes amid the gloom, the only sign that they weren't alone in the void.

Everything trembled. There was a heavy rush of air from the right. Scott ducked low over the handlebars, but it still felt like smacking into a brick wall. Tiny fragments of debris hurtled across the street at such speeds that they tore tiny fissures in the radiation overalls. A wide crack splintered down the centre of the road. Tarmac split in two. Chunks of concrete rose out of the darkness, ghostly pale as they materialised seemingly out of nowhere.

The sharp stench of electrical fires and human waste broke through the mask. Scott cut across to break free of the crumbling road onto the sidewalk. Powerlines and cables tore free from posts to snap and writhe, striking great furrows into the ground. Signs and windows shattered in the shockwaves. It was a miracle that broken glass didn't rip the tyres to shreds.

There was light up ahead. At first Scott suspected he was imagining it. The human mind needed something to focus on when all senses were blinded. It was all too easy to become lost in the void. He dared to glance sideways and the reflecting glow on Virgil's visor confirmed that it wasn't a mere trick of his own vision – the smoke was thinning.

He was briefly aware that someone was shouting – although perhaps that was him? – but the words went unheard. All that mattered was reaching that light – a beacon in the darkness. He was struck by a sharp jolt of terror that he was fleeing from a very real Hell on Earth and the fear was like a knife between his ribs. He had tunnel vision, unable to consider the dangers still around him – it was only Virgil's sudden swerve left which warned him to move out of the path of a crumbling house.

They burst free of the smoke side-by-side. Scott slowed, veering around in a wide arc that sprayed asphalt over the curb until he came to a halt. The others were frozen, scattered across the stretch of open road that lay between the suburbs they had just escaped and the train tracks.

Gordon was braced against the handlebars, distinctly pale in the face of the horror that laid behind them. The fact that John had yet to unwind his arms spoke volumes. He was still gripping his brother's middle and Gordon showed no signs of shoving him away. In the semi-gloom, Jasmin's face was damp with tears turned orange by her visor. Alan cut the engine of his own motorcycle slowly as if following a silent order.

"Oh my god," Virgil breathed.

Scott finally turned to spy the remains of the city. It was as if some greater force had taken an eraser and smeared it off the map. It was an ugly blot of smoke against the glow of radiation. Buildings which hadn't already succumbed to the storm were falling. Foundations weakened by acid rain were now crumbling in the face of fierce gales. The entire city was collapsing in on itself. It was a sight of such utter destruction that Scott forgot how to breathe for a second.

A glance to his left revealed Virgil's wide-eyed horror, laced with pure fear because in all their years of rescue they had never seen anything like this. An entire city, gone, just like that. Totality, a little voice in Scott's head whispered, and he wanted to drop to his knees in the middle of the road and bring up everything he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Miles of human innovation reduced to mere dust. How many people had once called this place home?

He was looking at three of them right now.

Theo's face glistened with tears. He dropped his head to Alan's shoulder, trembling at the loss of the final fragments of his old life. Alan gripped Theo's wrist and squeezed slightly – the only comfort he could offer. Jasmin's face hardened as she watched the final apartment block collapse.

Marisa cleared her throat, voice damp with repressed emotion. "It was just a place."

"Mom and Dad's place," Jasmin corrected with a cold sigh. "What does it matter? They're dead anyway."

Marisa flinched. "We don't know that for certain. If no one on their cruise was infected, then they might even be safer than us."

"Oh, shut up, Mari." Jasmin blinked away angry tears. "Let's just get outta here. There's nothing left."

Virgil reached over and his bike tipped precariously. "Theo?" He brushed a hand against the kid's shoulder. "You okay?"

Theo took a shaky breath.

"Y-yeah." He tried to wipe a hand across his face, smearing ash over his visor. "I just- My parents got infected in the first twenty-four hours and my nana died last year, so I don't know why- I've got no one left other than Marisa and Jazz and they're right here with me, so there's no reason for me to be upset about a dumb place." His shoulders slumped. "I just don't want to forget them."

"You won't," Virgil assured him, although Alan clenched his jaw against an onslaught of memories that were foggy enough to prove such a promise couldn't be made. "And now you have us too."

Fire licked the sky where the final collapses triggered implosions within the city's heart. Marisa's tyres were a vicious crunch against gravel as she turned her motorcycle away from the sight without so much as a final glance back. Jasmin flipped her visor down to hide her expression as she stared over her shoulder one last time.

Gordon revved the engine as he eased his motorcycle back into higher speeds to chase after the pair before they could go too far on their own. The throaty growl drowned out the thunderclap of crumbling rubble.

Theo couldn't tear his gaze away. Destruction could be hypnotic. It was made worse by the realisation that this was the last time he would ever see the place he had been born and raised in. He could never go home again.

Scott still had elements of his old life scattered across the world and beyond – family and friends out of his reach, a Thunderbird tucked away below ground, a home on the other side of the planet and his brothers all around him – but Theo had lost everything and almost everyone and yet he was still strong enough to know it was time to leave, reaching to squeeze Alan's shoulder. Human resilience: Scott had witnessed it many times on rescue, but he sometimes suspected you could see it most clearly in kids. Or perhaps he was simply biased, given he had watched Alan grow up and after all the pain his youngest brother had been through, wasn't he the very definition of an indomitable spirit?

Alan kicked the motorcycle into gear but didn't immediately speed away. Despite the fast-approaching deadline, he left slowly so that Theo could have much time as it was possible to provide. And then, when the road slipped into an incline which left the city out of sight beyond a horizon of thick smoke and radioactive clouds, he lifted one hand off the 'bars to grip Theo's arm in silent support. It only lasted about ten seconds before the pot-marked tarmac forced Alan to hold both handlebars again, but Theo straightened up, seeming to draw strength from the action.

Virgil was once again matching Scott's speed, difficult to understand through the visor but years of teamwork making his meaning clear despite this. What are you thinking?

Scott was thinking a lot. But mostly? He couldn't help but focus on the fact that in the face of loss Alan's first thought had been to offer comfort and so perhaps International Rescue was still in existence because it lived on within every kind gesture and selfless action. IR had represented hope and when Scott looked at Alan and Theo he could see that. So maybe not all was lost after all.

He had no way to express these thoughts but one glance at Virgil's small smile suggested that his brother knew already. Because of course he did. The unchanging facts of the world – human hope, the kindness of strangers and Virgil knowing him better than he knew himself.


The station was located further south, closer to the city outskirts, but this had already been lost to radiation and besides, Scott wasn't aiming for that. He'd set his sights on the row of production plants situated on either side of the tracks. The factories consisted of several flat-roofed buildings which ran parallel to one another, separated by the trainline.

Scott's plan involved scaling those factories and dropping onto the train from above. It was simple enough and they'd all achieved similar feats in training – minus Marisa, Jasmin and Theo – with the minor difference of having been jumping onto an unmoving object as opposed to a train travelling so fast that mere seconds could be the difference between success and tragedy.

The factories sprawled across several square miles of concrete and cold metal. Rust plagued the walls and one building had collapsed fairly early on in the end-times. Stormy skies necessitated flashlights, but the beams seemed to make the place creepier. They ditched the motorcycles in the tall grasses by the front gate and ventured into the complex on foot.

It felt too quiet. The majority of infected may have fled north already, but Scott still expected to run into those which were too decomposed to make the journey. There was evidence of them everywhere in spilt pools of purpled blood and old trails smeared over tarmac. A truck whistled with bullet holes. Scorch marks revealed burnt-out fires. A skull hung from a gatepost like a trophy with strands of grey hair still clinging to the scalp. A little dribble of sinew dangled from an eye socket.

Scott gripped his knife tightly to reassure his own frantic heartbeat. Finch – who was still recovering from being cradled against Virgil's chest on an unsteady motorcycle ride – raised her hackles in warning. The wind forced strange, inhuman sounds from every direction. The screech of rusty hinges sounded for all the world like an infected. John grabbed Gordon's shoulder and shoved him backwards instinctively, but there was nothing but empty air.

"I thought you could sense them?" Gordon asked under his breath so that Marisa didn't overhear.

John rolled his shoulders, gaze dark. "I'm not willing to trust it entirely. Not after that swimming pool."

Gordon recoiled at the memory. "Right. Good call."

Marisa checked the time on her watch. "We've got twelve minutes."

Years ago, this had been the site of technological advancements; the bustling heart of a newly named city and its sprawling suburbs which continued to grow alongside the influx of fresh jobs available. Just as newbuild houses clawed land from under the noses of those who had once sworn to protect greenspaces, this plant had inched its boundaries deeper into pristine fields until every scrap of grass up to the main road had been claimed and buried beneath concrete.

Like anything, it had not been destined to last. Investors shifted their focus to new projects with smaller carbon footprints and better publicity. Wages hadn't matched inflation rates – workers moved away and took their families with them. The city had fallen into decline far before any whispers of the undead had ever reached the press or the watchful ears of the world's military powers.

By the time society collapsed and blood splashed the streets, the factory site had long since become a junkyard. A few buildings remained in use, but the vast majority had fallen into disrepair, occupied by storage containers and out-of-date engineering equipment. The entire place was a public health hazard and that was before anyone considered the possibility of rotters lurking within the shadows.

Dilapidated structures practically sang of collapse. It was the sort of site which Scott would once have rescued daredevil teenagers from. Now, the only daredevil teenager he had to keep an eye on was his own kid brother. Theo and Jasmin were keeping close to Marisa's side, but Alan seemed intent on forging his own path. Scott broke away from the main group to seize the back of Alan's overalls.

The kid nearly jumped outta his skin.

Scott had to duck a fist. "Just me."

Alan glared at him. "Don't sneak up on me."

"Wasn't my intention." Scott caught Alan's doubtful look and held up his hands. "Honest." He peered over his brother's shoulder. "What's going on?"

Alan faltered, gesturing to an open door. "I thought I could hear something."

Thin shards of dull light streamed through holes in the roof. The effect was a series of strange spotlights which reflected off old nails and scrap metal, discarded amid the rubble and thick layer of bird excrement across the floor. There was a distinct sense of presence in the place, but Scott couldn't pick out any movement. Dim light played havoc with his vision. Liquid shadows slunk out of their designated corners to consume everything in sight.

Knowing it was just his eyes playing tricks on him didn't ease his nerves. He tugged Alan under his arm and guided the kid back to the main path without a word. His own heart felt like a lump of lead, heavy and cold in his chest with the certainty that something was watching them.

Finch's hackles were raised. Virgil was carrying her to save her paws from the broken glass and rusted nails amid the straggly grass which had overwhelmed the tarmac. What little foliage remained was so brittle that it had been bleached white and crumbled underfoot like chalk. The scruffy bandana around Finch's neck was a vivid splash of colour in a grey world. Ordinarily, Scott considered this a comfort. Now, he found it oddly unsettling, as if any hint of brightness would draw demons out of the darkness which had already consumed an entire city.

"This place is creepy," Jasmin was whispering to Theo in the hopes of drawing a reaction from him, but he remained quiet, gaze on the gravel and fingers knotted together in a web of grief.

A few paces behind, Gordon echoed a similar sentiment. "This place feels wrong. Am I being paranoid?"

John hesitated, yet another red flag. "Possibly. I think we're all on edge."

"But there's something off, right?"

"I wouldn't know-" John lightly knocked their shoulders together, expression brightening as he glimpsed Gordon's tiny smile. "-I'm not the one with a world-famous squid sense."

In an ideal world, there would have been exterior fire escape ladders. In reality, the only way to reach the roof was from the inside. There were two buildings on the eastern side of the tracks. Neither of them looked appealing but the left one looked less likely to collapse at the slightest breath and also happened to be helpfully situated a few inches closer to the tracks.

The main entrance was blocked by the carcass of an abandoned forklift. A secondary door was located around the corner, down a path that ran directly up to the fence which prevented anyone from trespassing on the tracks. It was a chain-link construction with coils of barbed wire along the top. Grey metal glinted in flashlight beams. Grotesque gargoyles formed of bone and stripped engine parts were wedged between the loops. Sightless eye sockets warned that this was not a place for the living.

Marisa coiled a finger around the trigger of her gun reflexively.

"What the fuck is this?" Jasmin whispered, voice pitched with horror.

Gordon swallowed. "Bandits."

Marisa exhaled in a rush. "You've had run-ins with them too then?"

Gordon dropped his gaze to the old cigarette tips littering the fence-line from decades of workers sneaking out of view of security cameras for secret smoke breaks.

"Something like that," he replied at last, nearly jumping at John's light touch to his shoulder.

Marisa craned her neck to glimpse the storm clouds. "Yeah, we had to lie low for a few days until they moved on." She shivered. "There were more survivors once. Not part of our group, but we knew they were around. Then the bandits came and… This is a warning, right?" She jerked a thumb at the remains displayed along the fence. "For anyone trying to escape via the tracks? Don't go this way unless you want to go up against bandits."

Gordon cleared his throat. "Which came first?"

"Sorry?"

"Bandits or the trains? Which did you see first?"

Marisa frowned. "Bandits."

"Then this is less likely to be a warning against using the tracks and more likely to be a symbol to others that this area has already been scavenged. Besides…" A low rumble of thunder unpinned his words as if on cue. "We don't exactly have a choice. No way back and we can't stay here. It's the train or nothing."

The silence which followed was sobering. Virgil eased the door open, wincing as hinges squealed. It was an uncomfortably similar sound to that of a wounded animal, the sort of high-pitched cry which could have shattered glass. No one was eager to go first. Scott whacked his flashlight against his thigh as it flickered and cautiously stepped past Virgil to lead the way into the darkness.

The space within was swamped in dust. It deadened his footsteps, crumbling under his heels like dry sand on an untouched beach. His movements disturbed the soft upper layers which clouded the air, evoking a golden memory of loose icing sugar on counters and hands and faces and anywhere that wasn't the mixing bowl. In the past, laughing voices called for concentration because 'baking is a science, remember, Scotty?' In the present, hyperawareness of his own body and the dull crunch of boots in dust behind him shook sensibility into the forefront of his mind before he could become lost in fonder memories.

Old machinery loomed out of the haze. Dust fogged his visor. He dragged a hand across the surface, leaving ghostly fingerprints. Every step stirred more fragments from a building which seemed trapped in time. Old tarpaulin flapped in the fresh flow of air through the open door. His heart did a strange trick in his chest which left static in his fingertips and snared the air in his lungs. He repressed a cough. To his left, dust frothed in a tidal wave as Virgil pushed past nerves to walk at his side into an unknown ending.

Paintwork had faded but hadn't quite reached obscurity. Orange letters directed them towards a door at the far end of the building. An ancient conveyer belt ran parallel. Finch sniffed it suspiciously. Theo scuffed his boots against the tarnished metal. A short distance away, Gordon refused to leave John's side, a resolve rivalled only by John's matching reluctance to step away from Gordon.

Far behind them, a strong gust of wind nailed the door shut. The resulting bang shook cobwebs from the rafters and rebar groaned under the weight of shifting ash.

Virgil caught Scott's concerned look. "That didn't sound good."

"Understatement of the century," Scott muttered, only just managing to keep himself from jumping as a hand curled around his bicep. He ground to a halt as Alan tugged at his arm. "What's wrong?"

Gordon made a questioning sound. John had frozen, scouring the shadows for movement, so still that he was holding his breath. Finch let out a low, rumbling growl which sent a tiny tremor from her nose to the very tip of her tail and shook ghosts from dust.

Marisa drew Jasmin under her arm and beckoned for Theo to step behind her.

Virgil put out a hand to shield Alan from the shadows. "Something's here."

It wasn't a question. The certainty in Virgil's voice was chilling.

John gave Gordon a gentle shove. "Keep moving. We're running out of time."

Marisa wordlessly displayed the countdown on her watch. Virgil forced himself to take a breath as tension took root in his spine. He lowered his hand back to his side as Alan slipped past, Finch flocking to his heels without need for a whistle.

Scott broke into a jog to retake the lead. The dust made it difficult to see anything beyond the end of the conveyer belt. It stretched into the gloom like an old road, thick and leathery on rollers which had long-since been welded together with rust.

The stairwell was straight out of a horror movie. Scott didn't realise he'd frozen until Gordon cautiously stepped into his line of vision and lifted his hands, stopping just short of touching. The movement was enough to jolt him into the present. Gordon's eyes were wide with concern and something in Scott's chest twisted at the sight of the understanding on his brother's face. He brushed Gordon's hands away and plunged into the stairwell without further thought.

"Fuck stairwells, right?" Gordon murmured, just behind him, close enough that Scott could sense his presence and swore he could feel Gordon's warmth even through his own radiation overalls and his brother's GDF suit.

He clenched his jaw until it ached. "Right."

The entire stairwell stunk of smoke. It seemed as airless as it did windowless. The distinctive mix of cigarettes, stale rat faeces and grease had permeated these walls when it had still been home to workers stealing an extra few minutes of breaktime and the smell still hung around even all these years later.

Once white walls had stained to a sickly greyish hue. Concrete chill seeped through Scott's suit to raise goose-bumps along his arms. He shivered as though ice were dripping down his spine. Gordon's hand closed around his wrist, squeezed once, then let go again. The entire action took a brief second, but the warmth from his touch seemed everlasting and Scott focussed on it to anchor himself in the present.

He discovered an upside to the bites – if he paid attention to the pain, he barely noticed the fiery ache in his muscles. It wasn't as far to climb to the roof as it had been to reach the apartment, but the stairs were steep, and he was reluctant to admit even to himself just how reliant he became on Gordon's supportive hands by the end of it. The perpetual weakness which had seeped into his bones at some point after escaping the swimming pool was growing more noticeable and, when he braced himself against his knees having reached the roof only to catch Virgil's knowing look, it seemed that he wasn't the only person aware of that fact.

Virgil didn't call him out. Because of course he didn't. Not with Alan within earshot and especially not when Marisa was close enough to listen. Trust was hard to earn these days. Scott liked Marisa but she seemed almost too kind. Perhaps he was overly cynical, or maybe Virgil was simply trusting enough for both of them. Either way, Scott didn't want Marisa knowing about his declining health for different reasons than why he didn't want Alan to know.

Virgil was willing to respect both of those wishes. This didn't prevent him from wrapping an arm around Scott in the pretence of casual affection when in reality he was the main reason why Scott was still standing. But hey, neither of them were about to mention that fascinating little detail, not even when John stared intently at them with that calculated concern in his eyes.

Gordon crouched at the very edge of the roof. "Three minutes."

"Two minutes and forty-seven seconds, actually," John corrected, hiding a smile when Gordon let out a long-suffering sigh and reached back to swat his brother's knees. "It pays to be precise about these things."

"Yeah, yeah." Gordon rocked back on his heels to glimpse John's expression where his brother was standing over him. "Know-it-all. You just like to sound clever."

"I don't just sound clever, I am clever."

"You're not the only one in the family with a PhD."

"Really?" John tilted his head, vaguely amused. "You want to start this argument again? Here? Right now?"

Gordon grinned at him. "Well, we've got two minutes going spare, so why not?"

John fixed his sights on the horizon and said casually, "I suppose it would, uh, liven the place up a bit."

Theo openly sniggered. Jasmin rolled her eyes but twisted to hide her secret smile. Alan paused in the process of pacing along the roof and turned back to double take as if he'd misheard John.

Gordon looked absolutely delighted. "Johnny. Did you just…?"

"Maybe."

"I'm so proud."

Ash was falling thickly again. Alan held out a hand and let it flutter through his fingers. Scott tipped his head back against Virgil's shoulder and examined the flakes settle over his visor. It reminded him of snow in slow motion, set against a deconstructed world. Distantly, light pierced through the gloom, a distant star amid the frothy clouds. He sucked in a breath. Virgil's grip tightened slightly. Alan's steps faltered.

"That's it," Marisa whispered. "That's the train."

John held out a hand. Gordon took it and hauled himself upright.

"Twenty-two seconds." Alan stared at the approaching light. "That's how long we have after the first carriage goes past until the final one reaches us."

"How'd you figure that out?" Gordon asked.

"Measured how long I could see the passing light, considered the average length of train carriages, typical velocity, deceleration effects of ash, margins of error-"

Gordon grimaced. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Up here, on the roof, in the open air, Scott had cautiously dared to believe that they were safe. This naïve thinking was brutally shattered in an instant. Finch hurtled across the roof, yanking her leash free of Alan's hands. Her barking rose to a frantic pitch as her paws sank into the ash.

Scott realised with a jolt that she was trying to reach him, just as Virgil tackled him onto the roof. The impact ignited a wave of fire in his bites which whited out his vision for a split second. His own name was still ringing in his ears as Virgil's shout rung in the heavy air. Instinct revolted against the weight on his back even as logic swept forwards with the comforting reminder that it was only Virgil, still pinning him against the roof while Finch snarled at whatever threat was lurching out of the stairwell.

Panic was a physical jolt, lightning under his skin. He kicked out reflexively. Virgil hauled him aside, somehow still careful not to put any pressure on the bites. Scott scrambled to sit upright, jarring his head against Virgil's chin and accidentally smacking his elbow into his brother's ribs, but at least he could glimpse the doorway again. The one thing worse than knowing danger was lurking nearby was being unable to see it coming. His hands were slippery with ash. Virgil gripped his shoulders to steady him as he jolted backwards at the sight of the infected.

The creature looked relatively newly infected. Its eyes were that milky yellow indicative of a rotter and strips of flesh had been torn clean from its throat. Leathery muscle flapped in the wind to expose nerves, white and wispy like feathers. Congealed blood had pooled in sharp collarbones. Gaping jaws impossibly widened and then, arms outstretched, it began to scream.

Finch ploughed into the rotter without hesitation. She knocked it through the doorway and back down the stairwell before those drooling fingers could reach for Scott or Virgil. Concrete was slick with rotten fluid from the creature's calves and her claws skidded. Her panicked yelp was drowned out by the sudden roar of the approaching train, so close now that Scott could pick out the individual carriages.

"Finch!"

Alan bolted towards the doorway. Virgil scrambled to his feet in time to grab the kid around the waist and physically pull him backwards, wincing as Alan made weapons of sharp elbows and bony knees in an attempt to get free.

Scott was running before he'd even realised his decision. "I'll get her!"

A chorus of shouts rained over the roof, engulfed by the train's thunder. The first carriage slipped past the far corner of the building. Twenty-two seconds, starting now.

Scott plunged into the stairwell, heels slipping so that he skidded down the first set of steps and slammed into concrete so violently that he felt the impact travel from his heels all the way up his spine. Pain blossomed where he'd bitten his cheek. He spat blood onto the floor and used his own momentum to keep running, praying that his brothers were being smart and had started the jump onto the train.

Finch hurtled out of the darkness, careering up the stairs just as he dashed down them. They collided in the middle. She leapt into his arms, shaking and shivering, her heartbeat pounding under his fingers as he cradled her close.

How many seconds had it been? Ten? He'd lost count. All around him dust was falling in torrents. His boots slipped. Lights flashed above from the open door. Finch howled into his neck. He turned on his heels and ran for his life.

The train was two-thirds of the way past already. He dropped Finch onto her paws before he'd even made it through the doorway. Even if he didn't make the jump in time, Finch was faster, so at least she'd have a chance at survival.

Theo and Jasmin had already jumped. Marisa plunged after them. Gordon was braced against the very edge of the roof, framed in the light like an avenging shadow, waiting until he glimpsed Scott burst free of the stairwell before he turned and planted a hand on Alan's back. His shout was drowned in the roar of engines and wheels, but it was easy to guess his words. Alan wavered, unwilling to make the jump without knowing for sure that Scott would make it in time, but there weren't enough seconds left for hesitation.

Gordon caught Scott's gaze, seeking a promise that Scott couldn't make him, then took the space between the roof and the train at a running jump, dragging Alan with him. Instinct had their youngest brother pushing into the leap, gaining just enough momentum to make it across the gap. Scott glimpsed them amid flashing lights; Gordon gripping the notches while he recovered his balance, Alan on his hands and knees to catch Finch as the dog hurtled onto the train too.

"John, go," Virgil shouted, running away from the edge like an idiot. He seized Scott's arm and yanked him into a faster sprint. "We're right behind you!"

They were not right behind him and John knew it, but based off his expression he also knew that he had to make that jump. At least one of the three of them had to make it because the alternative was leaving Gordon and Alan alone and that was unthinkable. It was possible that he shouted something back at them, but all that existed in the world was thunder and ash and flashing train lights, so his words went unheard. He shot a final desperate look at his brothers then flung himself into the void.

The ash was too thick to see if he'd made it or not. Scott summoned every scrap of his adrenaline rush and pushed so far past his limits that they weren't even a speck in the background of his mind. He took a deep breath, steeled himself, then shoved Virgil forwards.

Virgil reached back for him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm slowing you down!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You won't have to. I can make it from here, Virg, now go."

Virgil let out a faintly hysterical laugh. "No way in hell."

"Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?"

"I learnt from the best!"

"For fuck's sake, Virgil, just go."

"So you can be a self-sacrificing idiot again?" Virgil grabbed Scott's wrist. "Together or not at all. Are you with me?"

Fuck.

Three seconds.

Two.

"Go, now!"

One.

Scott hit the train awkwardly. He knew it the second it happened. That jolt of pain from his ankle didn't promise anything good but the immediate problem was the way his foot slid out from under him. Gravity wiped her hands clean and looked the other way. He made a mad flail for a handhold but the roof on the final carriage was slippery, and his gloves slid over the surface unaided. The world tipped out from under him and then he was falling.

Hands wrapped around his wrists and hauled him back onto the roof. Cold metal slammed against his bitten shoulder in a jarring contrast against fiery pain. He clawed his way upright, the rush of wind warring with the blood roaring in his ears. His wrists ached. He took a moment to catch his breath, only for it to be stolen again by the force of Virgil's hug.

"We made it," he whispered faintly, somewhat awed by the fact. He wrapped his arms tightly around Virgil in return, dropping his head to Virgil's shoulder to hide from the dizzying rush of scenery all around them. He could hear his brother's heartbeat, feel how badly he was shaking, and mirrored Virgil's frantic hold with one of his own.

"You nearly didn't." Virgil's voice was choked.

"But you caught me."

"Always."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

They tipped backwards to lie flat on the roof. Distantly, voices clamoured for their attention. John's shout quietened the raucous. Scott closed his eyes against the sky, hoping that when he opened them again it would be to a healthier blue. Virgil found his hand and entwined their fingers, holding on tightly as if the wind might snatch him away.

"We made it," Scott repeated softy.

"Yeah," Virgil replied, smile audible in his words. "We made it."