If the moment when Marco discovers the device in the mall’s vents and the subsequent PA lockdown swept you up, you’ll love how Monument 14 seals a group of teens inside a superstore after a chemical catastrophe. Like Lexi, Shay, Ryan, and Marco negotiating food, safety, and shifting loyalties under National Guard orders, these kids jury-rig rules, ration supplies, and face terrifying spikes of danger as the outside world collapses. It delivers that same contained tension—every run to the back room, every argument over who’s in charge—only with even tighter resource management and moral crunch points.

If you were hooked by how the mall devolves into turf wars—jocks, loners, and scared bystanders vying for power while authorities bark orders from outside—Quarantine cranks that pressure up inside a sealed high school. The rival gangs (Varsity, Pretty Ones, and more) will feel familiar if Ryan’s pull toward his crew versus doing the right thing resonated with you, and the brutal politics echo those tense escalations after the biohazard alert in the mall. It’s all the betrayals, uneasy alliances, and survival calculus you enjoyed—just meaner and even more combustible.

If the sealed doors, dark service corridors, and dwindling supplies in the mall made every decision feel razor‑edged, Trapped delivers that same suffocating intensity. A handful of students are snowed in at their school as the storm worsens, and the tension builds around the same kinds of choices you watched Lexi and Marco face: conserve or risk, wait for rescue or act now, trust that classmate or keep your distance. The scale is intimate, the clock is loud, and each improvised plan carries the weight of survival.

If you tore through the moments in the mall when the lights flickered, tempers flared, and every chapter ended with a fresh crisis, The Raft keeps that heartbeat‑fast pace—only now it’s two teens adrift after a plane crash. The same visceral problem‑solving you enjoyed—scavenging, triage, improvising shelter, calculating risks—drives every page, echoing the emergency runs and split‑second calls after the quarantine announcement. It’s a lean, breathless read with no let‑up.

If you liked how No Safety in Numbers moved between Marco, Lexi, Shay, and Ryan to show the mall’s unraveling from every angle—panic at the exits, opportunists seizing power, friends trying to stay humane—Dry uses multiple narrators to chart a water‑crisis collapse in real time. Alyssa, Kelton, and others rotate in to show neighborhood lines hardening, supply runs turning dangerous, and the rules of civility breaking—mirroring the layered view you enjoyed as the quarantine tightened around the mall.