The jeep screeches to a stop, its tires kicking up loose gravel as the group stares at the dark mouth of the tunnel ahead. A gaping, endless void stretches beyond the entrance, swallowing the last traces of daylight. The air is thick with dust, carrying the scent of damp decay, the staleness of a place long abandoned.

Newt narrows his eyes, tilting his head toward the tunnel. "You want us to go in there?"

Katherine crosses her arms, her gaze locked on the yawning darkness. "It looks horrible for my taste."

Thomas is silent, staring down at the crumpled map in his hands. He doesn't have to say it. They all know there's no other way.

Newt exhales, shaking his head. "I don’t wanna come across as too negative, but if I were a Crank, that’s exactly where I’d be."

Thomas finally looks up, his shoulders dropping with the weight of their reality. "I don’t think we have much of a choice."

Newt raises an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into something almost amused. "All right. I get shotgun."

They pile back into the jeep, the tension pressing down like an unseen force as Frypan turns the key. The engine rumbles to life, and they roll forward, swallowed whole by the tunnel's darkness.

"Well, here we go," Frypan mutters, gripping the wheel tighter.

"Yeah, just take it nice and slow," Newt advises, sweeping his flashlight over the crumbling walls as the jeep creeps forward.

The tunnel stretches on, suffocating and silent. The only sound is the hum of the engine, the occasional drip of water echoing off unseen surfaces. Then—

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Thomas's sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

A figure stands in the distance, barely more than a shadow in the dim tunnel light. Motionless. Watching.

Katherine stiffens, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Dear God, we're shucked. May we rest in peace."

The jeep jerks to a halt, Frypan twisting to look at Thomas, waiting for some kind of direction.

Thomas swallows hard. "It's okay. It's just one. Take it slow, go around him. We'll be fine."

Even as he says it, Frypan’s knuckles whiten on the wheel. His voice is barely a whisper as he repeats Thomas’s words, like saying them enough times will make them true. "Take it slow. Take it slow."

Then, out of nowhere—a face slams against the window.

A woman. Gaunt, eyes sunken into hollow pits, her skin torn and peeling like old parchment. She jerks at the handle, her cracked lips forming frantic words. "Please. Please." Her voice is raw, desperate. "Help me. Please! Let me in."

Another Crank appears, slamming its bloodied hands against Katherine’s window. It snarls, half-human, half-something else. The smell of rot seeps into the jeep’s vents. Katherine and Thomas instinctively press closer together, their arms tangling as they recoil from the glass.

"Okay, Fry, we gotta go." Thomas’s voice is firm, but there’s an edge of panic. More shadows move in the darkness. Dozens of them.

The pounding intensifies. More hands. More bodies. The jeep rocks under the weight of their desperation.

"Just floor it, Fry!" Thomas yells.

Frypan slams his foot on the gas. The jeep lurches forward, tires screeching, plowing through the sea of Cranks. The impact sends bodies flying, some rolling over the hood, others crumpling beneath the wheels. A deafening shriek pierces the air as one Crank claws at the windshield, its face twisted in fury. Fists pound the glass, each blow splintering the surface with spiderweb cracks.

"Shuck! Get off!" Frypan yells, swerving wildly.

The jeep bucks and shakes. The Crank clings on, screeching, until the next sharp swerve finally sends it tumbling off.

Katherine exhales shakily, feeling her pulse thunder in her ears, but the moment is fleeting.

"Frypan, watch out!" Thomas screams.

A blur. A shape in the road. Too late.

The jeep slams into something solid and launches into the air. A moment of weightless horror—then everything flips. Metal groans. Glass shatters. The world spins out of control.

Impact.

The crash punches the breath from Katherine’s lungs. The world blurs, a violent mess of motion and sound. Then stillness. Silence, except for the distant moans of the Cranks.

Pain blossoms in her skull as something heavy crushes her.

"Tommy, you’re fucking heavy! Get off me!" she groans, pushing weakly at his shoulder.

"Sorry—" Thomas grunts, shifting off her with a cough. "Everyone okay?"

"I think I’m dead," Katherine mutters, wincing as her limbs protest.

Groans and coughs fill the overturned vehicle. Thomas sweeps his flashlight through the wreckage, spotting their way out. He grits his teeth and smashes the cracked window, glass raining down as he climbs out first, then turns back to pull his sister free.

Katherine stumbles, dazed, but Thomas steadies her. They move together toward the others, worry knotting in her chest as she sees Newt struggling with his door.

Newt kicks at the jammed door once. Twice. Then it finally gives, and he spills out into the dirt.

Katherine is there before he can even find his balance, her hands grasping his, her touch grounding. "Newt, you okay?"

He exhales, nodding. "Yeah, I think so."

Without thinking, Katherine squeezes his hands tighter, pulling him closer. She presses her forehead to his shoulder, her nose against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of sweat, dust, and him. A warmth spreads through his chest, cutting through the cold grip of fear. Then she smiles—a small, radiant thing despite the grime and exhaustion—and it’s enough to steal what little breath he has left.

A beam of light cuts through the dust. Thomas swings his flashlight over the wreckage, searching. "Fry?"

A groan. Then movement.

"Frypan, you good?" Thomas calls.

A shadow shifts, and Frypan finally crawls out of the twisted jeep, coughing. "Define ‘good,’ shank."

Relief washes through the group, but it’s short-lived. A shriek rips through the tunnel, sharp and blood-chilling. The sound ricochets off the walls, wrapping around them like a noose. Newt reacts instantly, hand darting to his gun holster—only to find it empty.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, eyes darting wildly.

Another screech. Closer this time.

“Frypan, I think we gotta move!” Thomas urges, glancing back just as Frypan ducks into the jeep, rummaging frantically. “Now, Fry!”

The Crank lunges. A mangled, once-human figure, eyes sunken and black as night. Clawed hands reach for them—

A gunshot explodes through the tunnel. The Crank’s head jerks back as it crumples to the ground.

“Nice shot, Fry,” Thomas exhales, barely able to believe it.

“Thanks,” Frypan mutters, breath coming fast.

But there’s no time to celebrate. More shrieks rise, multiplying, layering over each other like a nightmare chorus. Shadows shift in the tunnel, moving fast. Too fast.

“Shuck,” Frypan curses. He fires again, dropping another Crank, then another. But they keep coming, an overwhelming, frenzied horde, their hunger fueling their charge.

“I’m out!” Frypan yells, voice breaking in panic.

“Shit!”

Then—an engine roars.

Bright headlights pierce through the chaos, blinding in the darkness. A jeep barrels forward, crushing bodies beneath its tires before screeching to a stop in front of them.

Brenda pops up from the passenger seat, firing into the horde with deadly precision. “Hey, get in!”

No hesitation. Thomas grabs Katherine’s wrist, yanking her forward as they scramble toward the jeep. Newt’s hand finds the small of Katherine’s back, guiding her, shielding her. Frypan dives in next, then Newt, then Thomas.

“Go, Jorge, go!” Brenda shouts, slamming her door shut just as the Cranks hurl themselves at the vehicle.

Jorge doesn’t need to be told twice. The jeep jerks forward, tires screeching, kicking up dust and gore as they speed out of the tunnel. The shrieks chase after them, fading only as daylight bursts into view.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of their own ragged breathing.

Katherine slumps back against the seat, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “Oh, man. That was a life and death experience.”

Jorge barks out a laugh, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “I’m impressed! You shanks almost lasted a whole day.”

Brenda smirks, shaking her head at Thomas, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Thomas exhales a breathless chuckle. “I didn’t wanna bring you guys into this.”

Frypan peeks his head over Thomas’s shoulder, grinning. “I think what he’s trying to say is—thanks for saving our asses.”

Brenda grins back. “You’re welcome.”

But Jorge’s face darkens. “Don’t get too comfortable, chicos. That checkpoint back there? That was the city’s last defense. If it was overrun, chances are, the city is, too.”

Silence settles over the group like a weight.

“Unless they figured out some other way to keep the Cranks out,” Newt murmurs, eyes locked on the horizon.

Katherine follows his gaze and there it is—the city. Massive buildings stretch toward the sky, surrounded by looming walls that gleam under the sun’s harsh light. A cage. A fortress.

Jorge pulls the jeep to a stop. One by one, they climb out, standing together as they take it in.

Newt lets out a slow breath, then slides his arm around Katherine’s waist, pulling her close. She leans into him instinctively, their bodies molded together like two halves of the same whole. His lips twitch into a smirk.

“Funny,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off the city. “Spent three years trapped behind walls, trying to break out, and now we wanna break back in.”

Frypan snorts. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

Thomas steps forward, eyes narrowing. “Jorge, how do we get in?”

Jorge shrugs, peeling off his gloves. “Don’t look at me, hermano. Those walls are new. I guess that’s WICKED’s answer for everything.”

Brenda crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg. “Well, we’re not gonna figure it out standing here.” She jerks her chin toward the jeep. “Let’s go.”

Jorge and Frypan exchange a look before heading back to the vehicle.

Newt turns to Katherine, his gaze scanning her as if searching for injuries. “You okay?”

She nods. “Yup.”

Newt cocks his head, smirk returning. “Shame we had to leave your bag of midnight snacks back there.”

She glares at him, eyes squinting against the sun. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never,” he grins.

Katherine huffs out a laugh, then, in one swift movement, rises on her toes and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before climbing back into the truck.

A full-body chill rushes through Newt, every hair on his neck standing on end. For a moment, he just stands there, stunned, the ghost of her lips lingering on his skin.

Thomas watches the whole thing with a knowing smirk before turning back toward the city. His expression hardens.

Newt steps beside him. “You really think he’s in there?”

Thomas exhales. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Newt’s voice drops, quieter now. “You know she’s gonna be there, too.” He gives Thomas’s shoulder a firm pat before heading back to the jeep.

Thomas doesn’t move. He just stares at the city, his stomach twisting, pulse thudding in his ears.

Yeah. He knows.