"Last night hurt," he finally says. "Hearing you say you used me, that you needed to leave. It hurt because I care about you. Because somewhere between finding you on that road and watching you face those families, I started falling for you."
"I'm falling too. That's the problem."
"No." He takes my hands. "That's the point. This world tries to make us isolated, tries to convince us that caring about people is weakness. But connection is how we survive. Not just physically—actually survive, as humans instead of just breathing bodies."
I think about Reggy's gap-toothed grin. Susan braiding my hair. Tommy asking endless questions. They chose connection over safety every single day.
"So if you're going to join my crew," Travis continues, "I need to know it's not just because you're running from something. I need to know you're running toward something too."
"I want to build what they believed in," I say. "I want to honor my crew by proving they were right—that cooperation beats isolation, that connection is worth the risk. And I want to do it with you, because you're the only person I've met who understands that some things are worth dying for."
"I'd prefer we focus on things worth living for."
He pulls me close, and for the first time since the ambush, I feel like I made the right choice.
six
Hazel
We'retwodaysoutof Old Pines, heading toward Hope Tower, when the panic hits.
I've been riding with Travis since we left, his crew accepting me without question. Jess has already started teaching me their medical protocols. Ken and Patricia treat me like I've always been part of the group. Eric asks endless questions about my old routes, taking notes like he's building a map in his head.
It should feel right. I chose this. I chose them.
So why does my chest feel like it's caving in?
It starts with small things. The way Travis checks the horizon, scanning for threats the same way Reggy used to. The rhythm of the ATV beneath me, so similar to the convoy I lost. Jess's laugh—not the same as Susan's, but close enough to make something twist in my gut.
Then the memories hit harder. Tommy's surprised exhale. Susan's scream cut short. The weight of Reggy going limp in my arms.
I'm gripping Travis's waist so hard my fingers ache, but I can't make myself let go.
"Hazel?" His voice cuts through the noise in my head. "You okay?"
"Fine." The lie comes automatically.
But I'm not fine. I'm spiraling, and I don't know how to stop it.
Travis must sense something because he signals the convoy to stop at a river crossing. "Water refill," he announces, but his eyes are on me.
When the others scatter to their tasks, he finds me sitting on a rock at the water's edge, staring at nothing. My hands won't stop shaking.
"Talk to me," he says, settling beside me.
"I made a mistake." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Leaving Old Pines. Joining your crew. I should've stayed where it was safe, where I knew people, where I couldn't—" My voice breaks. "Where I couldn't get more people killed."
"Hazel."
"What if the raiders come back? What if they target this convoy like they did mine? What if Jess or Eric or Ken—" I can't finish. Can't say it out loud. "I told Maria I was choosing to live instead of hide, but what if I'm just choosing to watch more people die?"
Travis is quiet for a moment. Then: "Is that what you really think? That you're cursed or something? That everyone around you dies?"
"The evidence suggests it."
"The evidence suggests you survived a professional ambush that would've killed most people." His voice is firm but not unkind. "And now you're catastrophizing because you're scared of caring again."
"I'm not—" I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
