WHEN THE WORLD ENDS

22.1

"We need a van. A truck, maybe," Katherin murmured.

Katherin's arm was beginning to ache, a numb sensation spreading up to her shoulder, weighing down on her bones. She had tried to find some painkillers, even an asthma puffer to pump adrenaline into her lungs and ease the ache. There was nothing; nothing that Katherin could take, anyway.

The bandage was rubbing against Katherin's skin, causing her burn to become inflamed. Katherin fought the urge to tear through the fabric that held her wound together, sucking in air between clenched teeth.

"A truck is too noisy," Jaxx replied. "It'll draw unwanted attention."

Katherin nodded, reluctantly. Jaxx was right. Even if the truck granted them more space, it would come at a dangerous cost. There were no windows in the back of a truck, no accessible path from the driver's seat to the back. A van was a much better option. It was safer.

They walked along the path towards the cars, constantly swivelling in search of zombies, for survivors lurking in the shadows.

There was a house at the edge of the car yard. It had belonged to the owner; an old man with a balding head and thick, sausage fingers. He'd hated teenagers, people of other ethnicities, pretty much anyone that had a different perception than him.

The owner's name had been Dick. Katherin thought it was fitting. She'd hated him, hated how he treated her like she was dirt beneath his feet.

"I'm going to search the house," Jaxx said.

Raven ran after Jaxx, following him into the small building.

Katherin watched them go. She had wanted to search through the building, to find supplies, but it was best that she stayed put. Jaxx and Raven would want some time alone. Katherin could respect that.

There were hundreds of cars sprawled across the car yard. Katherin scrambled onto the roof of a car, looking out across the wasteland. There was a van at the edge of the car yard.

Katherin jumped down from the car, pointing in the direction of the van.

"There's a van over there," she told Morgana, who nodded in response.

They began the trek to the van, stopping frequently to peer into cars, hoping to scavenge some items that could be useful.

Katherin wrapped her fist in Esther's jacket, punching a hole through a car window and retrieving a baseball bat. She walked over to the fence, peeling off a strip of barbed wire, before wrapping it around the head of the bat.

"This is yours," Katherin offered the bat to Esther, who took it gingerly.

Esther didn't want to be forced into a situation where she had to protect herself, but she appreciated the sentiment. Katherin wouldn't always be around to protect her. She needed to learn to fend for herself.

Still, the bat felt awkward and heavy in Esther's hands.

The van was just up ahead. It was old; white paint peeling off the exterior, windows covered in dust, green carpet stapled to the interior walls.

Morgana's nose wrinkled at the sight. She prided herself on her artistic talent, on how she improved everyday items with art. Ttod's boat had been her biggest project - she'd spent an entire weekend painting luminescent sunflowers on the side.

This van was different, though. Morgana didn't even know where to start. Her fingers itched to tear the green carpet from the interior, to repaint the van, to do something about the project that lay before her.