The car rattled over the cracked asphalt, tires bouncing across potholes and debris. Dust clouds trailed behind like ghosts of the old world. You, Joe, and Love had been traveling for hours, scavenging supplies and looking for a safer haven in the ruins of the city. But fatigue, hunger, and the ever-present danger of other desperate survivors had frayed nerves.

Joe’s hands were white on the wheel, gripping tightly. His jaw was set, eyes fixed on the road ahead. But the way he accelerated over broken roads, swerving sharply to avoid rubble or abandoned cars, made your stomach drop.

“Joe!” Love shouted from the passenger seat, grabbing the dashboard for balance. “Slow down! Do you want us to die before we even get to the next block?!”

“I’m fine,” Joe shot back, voice tense. “We need to make time. The longer we take, the higher the chance someone else gets there first.”

Love slammed her palm on the dashboard, rattling loose a pile of empty cans. “We’re not racing for a prize! We’re trying to survive! You’re going to get us all killed with this recklessness!”

You sighed, caught in the middle, clutching the strap of your bag as the car skidded over a patch of gravel. “Guys! Stop! Both of you, just… calm down!”

Joe’s eyes flicked to you, then back to the road, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he shoved it away. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“And I’m doing what keeps us alive,” Love snapped. “There’s a difference!”

The argument threatened to turn into a battle of wills, each trying to prove their point, neither willing to yield. And there you were, sandwiched in the back seat, heart pounding as you tried to mediate between two people who cared about you more than anyone else in the broken world — but in very different, very dangerous ways.

“Joe, Love, listen!” you shouted, leaning forward as far as you could. “Joe, slow down. Love, stop yelling. This isn’t a competition — it’s a car, a road, and the three of us. If we don’t trust each other right now, we’re all going to die before we reach safety!”

For a moment, silence fell. Joe’s foot eased off the gas, though the wheel still trembled in his hands. Love’s chest heaved, eyes narrowing, but her grip on the dashboard relaxed.

“Fine,” Joe muttered, voice low. “I’ll slow down.”

“Finally,” Love said, though her voice was still sharp. “I don’t want to babysit the driver all the way there.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “We’re all responsible,” you said. “All of us. Not just one person. We survive together, or not at all.”