Maarg and Jack sat cross-legged on the living room floor, a half-finished game of chess between them. The sun had all but disappeared below the horizon, casting a warm yet unsettling glow over the quiet colony.
Jack picked up a pawn, twirling it between his fingers. "Your move, genius."
Maarg didn't respond right away. He was staring past the board, past Jack—even past the wall itself. The light in his eyes wasn't fixed on the chessboard anymore. It was locked on something much further away.
Jack followed his gaze, then slowly set the pawn down.
"They're not back," he said softly.
Maarg gave a small nod. "It's time."
Jack didn't ask questions. He stood up without a word and walked toward the room they'd converted into a supply cache, where their gear was hidden.
Maarg, meanwhile, rose from the floor and made his way toward the kitchen. His mother stood by the window, her eyes red-rimmed, a dishcloth clenched tightly in her hands.
"You're going, aren't you?" she said without turning around.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
She turned to face him, stepping forward and grasping his arm. "Please, Maarg. Don't do this. You're just a boy… your father said—he said if they don't return by sunset—"
"I know," Maarg said gently, cutting her off. "He said we should consider them dead."
His mother's grip tightened. "Exactly. That means there's no hope. It's over."
Maarg smiled softly, his eyes holding a quiet fire. "Hope is the last thing we give up, Ma. If there's even a chance they're alive, I'll bring them back."
Before she could protest, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Then he turned and slipped away.
But before he joined Jack, he made one quick stop—outside Remmy's window.
Climbing up with his usual cat-like grace, Maarg tapped gently against the glass. Remmy appeared seconds later, opening it cautiously.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. "Maarg? What're you doing? It's already dark—"
"I'm going to find them," he said, cutting her off gently. "My dad… the others. I'll bring them back."
Remmy's face paled. "That's insane! It's suicide! You don't even know where they went."
Maarg smiled, soft but resolute. "I've got a pretty good tracker."
Remmy opened her mouth to argue again, but stopped. Something about the way he stood—calm, steady, unshaken—made her chest tighten. She lowered her head. "Just… don't die, idiot."
"I won't," he whispered, then dropped silently to the ground and disappeared into the shadows.
Back at the gate, Jack was already waiting with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a large speaker cradled in his arms.
"You got the fireworks?" Maarg asked.
"Check."
"Lighter and sanitizer?"
"Double check. And the dog's ready too." Jack nodded to the brown mixed-breed mutt sitting beside him, its ears perked and tail twitching.
"Perfect."
Together, they unlocked the gate and pushed the heavy bench just far enough to slip through. Once they were outside, they carefully pulled it back in place and locked the gate again.
The street was dark, eerie. Only the moon lit their path.
The dog sniffed the ground, pacing in small circles. Jack crouched beside it, whispering softly. "Come on, boy. Where'd they go?"
The dog sniffed, then suddenly turned, barking low as it caught a scent. It took off down the road.
Maarg and Jack exchanged a quick glance and took off after it.
As they moved silently through the empty streets, Maarg pulled the speaker from Jack's pack and set it to low volume. If things got bad, he had a plan—a noise distraction to draw the zombies away. Between that and the firecrackers, they might just have a fighting chance.
"Hey, Maarg," Jack muttered as they jogged behind the dog, "you think they're alive?"
"I don't know," Maarg replied. "But I'm going to act like they are… until I know otherwise."
Jack nodded. That was good enough for him.
The further they moved from the colony, the worse the air smelled. A mix of blood, rot, and ash clung to everything. The silence wasn't comforting anymore—it was oppressive.
But they didn't slow down.
Every step forward was a step toward their people.
Toward their family.
Toward hope.