Empty Tank, Full Van

The van sputters dead on a dark desert highway, two hundred miles from anywhere, and the fuel gauge has been lying to all of you for an hour. There's one bar of signal, one bottle of water, and a wedding you're all somehow obligated to reach by sunrise — and someone in this van pocketed the last of the gas money at the previous stop. You are stranded together on the shoulder, deciding who walks, who stays, and who's been lying about how they knew each other before today.