novelraw Chapter 539: The Fuel Runs Out
Chapter 539: The Fuel Runs Out
The fuel gauge hit empty and stayed there.
But, still, Zubair refused to slow down.
He kept driving on faith, momentum, and the stubborn refusal to accept that the truck was allowed to fail them now. He’d pushed machines farther than this before. He knew how long an engine could coast on fumes if you treated it like a promise instead of a guarantee.
The engine sputtered once, reminding him that the past was not the present, but he ignored it.
Another cough followed, sharper this time, like the truck was counting down until it was done.
Psycho noticed immediately. "Ah," he said mildly. "I knew that this was too easy. We are going to be stuck in the middle of nowhere?"
Zubair’s jaw tightened. "Not yet," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "We still have time."
"You say that," Psycho replied, "but the truck is currently disagreeing with you."
Aerenyx shifted slightly in his seat. "You are not gaining anything by pushing it to zero."
"I am," Zubair said. "Distance."
"And if it dies in the middle of the road?"
"Then we die in the middle of the road."
That statement ended the argument.
The engine coughed again, longer this time. Zubair eased off the accelerator just enough to keep it from choking completely, coaxing motion out of it like you would a wounded animal that didn’t know it was done yet.
Psycho leaned forward, peering out the windshield. "You might want to angle right."
Zubair followed the line of his gaze and saw it.
A gas station.
It wasn’t the one in Perdition. Not even close. But it was close enough to make all the difference in the world. He wasn’t going to even think of the high potential that it had run out of gas a long time ago.
He studied the building like he could conjure gas in it through sheer will alone. The canopy was crooked and one of the pumps was torn open. The other looked... functional in the way nothing ever really was anymore. The store was boarded from the inside, so he had no idea what type of threat they were facing.
But there was no other choice, so Zubair sucked his up and did what he had to do.
He guided the truck off the road and into the lot, keeping the approach wide and controlled.
The engine gave up just as he straightened the wheel, a final shudder before there was nothing but silence coming from it.
Zubair sat still for a beat longer than necessary, his hands locked on the wheel as he listened to the way the quiet settled around them.
Psycho exhaled, satisfied. "Well. That’s unfortunate."
Aerenyx scanned the lot. "Zombies," he said. "A few of the stupid ones. At least it’s not the mutated ones. They are too smart for their own good."
"There are humans too," Psycho added. "Inside the store itself, if my nose isn’t deceiving me."
Zubair simply grunted to show that he heard the information. But zombies or humans, it didn’t change the situation.
He stared at the pumps. "She can’t pull fuel out of her space," he reminded himself. "Not when she is unconscious."
Which meant this wasn’t a problem that a bit of will and powers could solve. It was a logistics problem.
Zubair opened the door and cringed slightly when the sound carried around them.
Immediately, three heads snapped toward him.
The zombies were slow, but they reacted to noise like it offended them personally... or they were Pavlov’s dogs and someone just rang the dinner bell.
One started drifting closer, its boots scraping against the pavement in uneven steps as it lunged its body forward. Psycho smiled. "Oh good. A welcoming committee. And here I was worried that life would start to be boring."
Zubair ignored him and took stock.
There were cars abandoned all around them. Some were stripped of everything but its skeleton, while others were barricaded.
Then there was the store.
It was boarded up tighter than a nun’s ... knees, but it was not airtight. He could feel eyes on him now that he was close... and they didn’t belong to the ones coming to them.
These ones clearly were still very much alive and human. Whatever that meant in this world.
"Don’t shoot," he said, voice calm, pitched to carry without being loud. "We’re not here for you. We just want some gas and then we will be on our way."
There was movement behind the boards, but no one responded to him.
Aerenyx spoke quietly, without looking away from the lot. "They don’t believe you."
"I don’t care what they believe," Zubair replied. "I care what they do."
He took two steps away from the truck, deliberately putting himself between the store and the vehicle.
Behind him, Caerwyn, still holding Sera, didn’t move.
Zubair didn’t look back. "We need fuel," he repeated, this time louder. "That’s it. We take it, we leave."
Psycho tilted his head. "And if they object?"
Zubair’s eyes stayed on the boarded windows. "Then that is their choice."
A voice finally came from inside the store. It was male, hoarse, and oh so very careful. "There’s nothing here."
Zubair didn’t smile. "Then you won’t mind us checking."
Silence.
The zombies shuffled closer, drawn by voices now. One of them tripped over a chunk of concrete and didn’t bother getting up, just clawed forward instead.
Psycho sighed. "I can take care of those if you want."
"Not yet," Zubair replied. "Let the humans think we are scared."
He could feel the attention tightening on him. The humans inside were listening, weighing whether he was a bigger threat than the dead outside.
"We don’t want your food," Zubair continued. "We don’t want your shelter. We don’t want your people."
A pause.
"What do you want," the voice asked.
"Gas."
Another pause, longer this time.
Aerenyx leaned closer to Zubair and spoke under his breath. "They have it."
"Of course they do," Psycho murmured. "Nobody boards up a station unless they’re sitting on something worth killing for."
Zubair nodded once, barely perceptible. "How much."
The answer didn’t come immediately.
Then: "Not enough."
Zubair let the silence stretch.
"That’s not your call," he said finally. "It’s a fact. We’re not negotiating percentages. We’re determining whether anyone here survives the next hour."
That did it.
Something inside the store shifted. A board creaked. A shape moved closer to the window gap. "You’re in Human territory," the voice said, sharper now. But he said ’human’ like he knew that was a lie. Interesting. "You shouldn’t even be here."
Zubair’s eyes narrowed. "Neither should the zombies."
Psycho laughed softly. "He’s not wrong."
The dead were close now. One was within ten meters, mouth working uselessly, hands raised like it remembered praying once and didn’t know why.
Zubair didn’t draw a weapon.
He didn’t need to.
"This is the part where you decide," he said. "You can stay locked in there, listening to them scratch at your walls. Or you can let us take fuel and reduce the number of things trying to eat you."
There was silence for a moment before another voice, this one female. Younger. Tighter. "How many of you."
"Enough," Psycho said cheerfully. "Or not enough. I guess that depends on what you are worried about."
Zubair shot him a look.
Psycho shrugged. "Honesty is subjective."
The female voice swore quietly. "They’re not leaving."
"No," Zubair agreed. "They’re not."
Aerenyx finally turned his head toward the store. "If you delay," he said calmly, "the situation worsens. You are not equipped to handle escalation."
That got a reaction.
The zombies were close enough now that the smell reached Zubair, faint but unmistakable. He didn’t flinch.
"We don’t want to be here," he said. "But the truck is dead, and the woman we’re protecting cannot keep going without it."
That slipped out before he could stop it.
Inside the store, something changed.
"Woman," the male voice repeated. "She hurt?"
Zubair didn’t answer.
He didn’t owe them that.
But Caerwyn spoke then, voice quiet and flat behind him. "She is not moving."
The words landed, but it was not dramatic or pleading. Simply stating a fact.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Finally, the boards shifted. Not fully removed — just enough for a rifle barrel to appear, shaky but real. "We don’t have much," the male voice said. "And if this goes wrong—"
"It won’t," Zubair said.
"That’s not a promise you can make."
Zubair met the dark gap in the boards with a steady stare. "It is if you don’t force me to."
The rifle hesitated.
Then withdrew.
A board slid aside, slowly.
"Five minutes," the voice said. "You take what you need and you leave."
Psycho grinned. "See? Cooperation."
Zubair didn’t move yet.
The zombies were close enough now that ignoring them would stop being an option.
He reached back, opened the truck door again, and spoke without looking behind him.
"Stay with her," he said.
Caerwyn didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Zubair stepped forward, eyes already tracking the nearest zombie.
The engine was silent behind him.
The fuel was gone.
They were exposed.
And as he crossed the lot toward the pumps, Zubair knew — with the same certainty he felt before violence ever started — that every living thing in that place was watching them now to see what they would do next.