Chapter 8: Elizabeth
Steven keeps turning the key. "Hurry the hell up!" Dad yells, and the zombies are getting closer to the truck. With what feels like the tenth attempt, the truck revs up to life. "Hang on!" Steven yells, as he puts the pedal to the floor. My head hits the back window of the truck as we accelerate down the road. Fuck me, that hurt. I throw my seatbelt on as quickly as I can. We hit one, two, three... I lose count of how many bodies we've hit, honestly.
I close my eyes and open them again once the sound of crushed flesh disappears from my hearing. In front of us is the open road again. I hope we got enough gas. That's what it looked like Steven was trying to do, at least. Before all that shit happened.
There were so many people... so many bodies. What if Mom's... no. I can't think like that right now. I'm sure she's fine. She's smart, and knows what she's doing. Apparently she's also living in a small town that only my father was actually aware of. We pass by a sign, and I notice that we're about 10 more miles from Saginaw. We're so close. I'm ready. Nervous, but ready.
We drive for a while and I stare at the scenery still flashing by me. We get closer to town, and soon enough we're there. I have to pull myself away from the window. So many bodies just roaming the streets and buildings. It's so sad. Each one of these people had a life before this happened. Everyone had a job, or kids, or parents, or something that they held onto dearly.
Now it's all gone, or at least torn to shreds.
Suddenly, I hear the engine sputtering. The car comes to a slow stop, and there is smoke emitting from under the hood. Great, here we are, stopped in the middle of the road of a once busy city. Come and get me, zombies. Dad stares out the window. He looks at the GPS, then turns to Steven. "If we hurry, and we stay alert, we could easily get to Christy's." Dad turns back to me, and stares.
"Do you want to do this?" he asks me.
I have to stop myself from laughing at his question. Do I want to do this? Of course not. But, do I really have an option here? I swear, sometimes he's so clueless as to what he's saying. I nod my head, trying to not speak and avoid laughing, still. My dad is a genius, but horrible with words. He jumps out, and pulls the seat forward so I can get out. There are bodies walking all around. Luckily, they aren't that close to us or even noticing our movement in the empty road. In fact, we might be safer here than the sidewalks.
Steven grabs the shotgun from the backseat, then hops out as well. "Okay," he says. "Let's do this."
We start walking down the road, and soon we are out of the big city area. Dad turns down a residential street. "That way," he tells us. I follow, and I'm impressed at the houses around me. If this is where Mom is really living, wow. These are really nice houses. There's no way she would have gotten this type of money from the divorce. This douchebag, Mark, probably helped her afford this kind of crap.
My heart jumps a little when I see Dad stop in the road. "What?" I ask him. I look down the road, worried there are going to be more zombies, but there's nobody. Then I see it.
Our truck. A single, lone tear rolls down my father's face as he begins to storm down the road towards Mark and his inevitable doom. I buckle my invisible seat belt and brace for collision.
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