The windshield of the Nissan shattered. Emily screamed. She and Jon covered their heads and ducked under the dashboard, just in time to miss face-fulls of glass. Jon flung his backpack up to cover his face. The windshield wipers CRACKED off and flew into the backseat of the car.
Bits and pieces of cars and body parts flew by the now wide-open windshield. Jon’s eyes shut tight. A rear bumper of a black Cadillac flew and ripped off Emily’s side-view mirror. She screamed again. Jon squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Chunks of glass and metal rained down on the Nissan like daggers. It sounded like a hailstorm.
This is it, Jon thought. I’m fucking dead! Please God…God!
The sound of the explosions faded to an end and the remaining debris fell over the road after the white tractor’s trailer slid on the concrete beyond the tolls. Sparks danced all around. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, it was quiet. Rain was pouring into the car, filling it up like a cup. Jon wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive, so he remained in his duck and cover position until Emily started to speak.
“Jon?” Emily said all shook up. Her body vibrated. “Jon, are you alright?”
Jon lowered his backpack with the speed of a hostage during a bank robbery. His eyes were still closed, hair still messed up. Bits of windshield covered him. “I think so,” he said. He opened his eyelids and adjusted his glasses to see the bonfire of cars and the road in ruins. The flames. The wreckage. The gates of Hell had opened up right here on Earth. “Jesus Christ!” With eyes fixed at the scene, he took short, quick breaths. “Are you ok?”
Burnt rubber and metal smoke poured into the car. The night’s air was contaminated with death and bloody rain. A scent you couldn’t forget. A smell that would stick in their nostrils forever.
“Yeah.” Emily swallowed, making a noise in her throat. She fought nausea. She coughed and so did Jon. Her eyes locked onto the scene. Jon could tell she was adjusting her nose ring, making sure it was still intact. “We have to go through there. Okay? We have to go. We can’t stop now this is the only way out of here.”
“What? Where?” Jon asked. He was almost angered at what she’d just said. He coughed again. Forward? Into that?
“There.” Emily pointed at the flaming and smoking cars that surrounded the now opened pathway. It was the EZ PASS lane that the white tractor-trailer ran through with a force so strong that it cleared everything in its path, including the roof above it. The top was torn apart like a crumpled piece of paper. The metal beast lay dead just after it. There was debris scattered around it, but Emily and Jon couldn’t tell what it was. It appeared to be like piles of Frisbees.
Jon was quiet. He wanted to ask if she was crazy, but there was no point in asking. This whole situation was crazy. The world was crazy. If we would’ve pulled up closer to the man in the vest, we would’ve been fried. That thought was too much to say out loud. It made him sweaty and nauseous. He coughed hard into his elbow.
There weren’t any rules anymore. Anything goes at this point. You either get killed trying to get home or get killed waiting around, fetching a map from a turnpike tollbooth.
“If you’re gonna do it, you gotta do it now,” Jon said, pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth.
Emily waved away the fumes from the front of her face and hit the gas pedal. She sent the Nissan through the flames and rubble with no interest in checking for anyone else on the road despite having witnessed the worst vehicle collision known to man. Jon checked again for Emily. He looked behind them to make sure that no more tractor-trailers were coming. They were safe. . . for now.
As the Nissan drove through the destroyed and smoldering EZ PASS lane, the flames whipped at them, making Emily put more weight on the pedal. Pulsating heat beat upon them. The rain fought it. They sped around the tipped tractor-trailer that killed the vested man and saw that the Frisbees were actually frozen pizzas. In fact, those pizzas were something Jon enjoyed eating, but now the thought of eating anything made him feel sick to his stomach. Sick. Tired. He needed to, but he didn’t want to eat or sleep. He just wanted to get home.
The Nissan, which was now a convertible, sped off onto the turnpike. Into the wet, dark night.
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Patience
Big Jon finished setting up the rifle on its tripod, which rested on a tree stump. Its long, black barrel looked out over a field far from the road. Woods surrounded the field in a U-shape. He peeked into the scope and adjusted it, then scratched his heavy mustache. All clear. Silent, except for the occasional sniffle coming from Little Jon.
“Don’t worry, son,” Big Jon whispered, not wanting to make too much noise in the chilly silence. “Any second now we’re gonna get you a buck. It’s all about patience.”
Little Jon was nervous. As exciting as it was to be on his first real hunting trip with his dad, he worried if he’d be able to steady the shot and pull the trigger when the time came. Part of him wanted a deer to pop out right now so he could get it over with, and the other part of him wanted to give up and go back home to his nice, warm bed. It was the weekend after all. He would normally be asleep at this time, away in dreamland, not worried about freezing to death and waiting for something to happen.
Chapter TWENTY-NINE
Night Drive
The further they drove, the more they discovered that the turnpike was covered with carnage. Smashed up cars with cracked bumpers and broken headlights littered the road. Some were on fire. Others had cobwebbed windshields. There were people inside, thrown around and contorted. Some of them burning. Tractor-trailers were on the side of the road with their back doors flung open and crates spilling out. There were knocked down light poles and torn up guide rails. Bodies and blood. Emily did her best to maneuver around it all, even driving onto the dividing grass patch and into the opposite lane. The wreckage seemed to be infinite on both sides.
The rain was slowing down. But what would wash away this gritty mess?
Jon tried to see if his parents were in any of the wrecks. The black Ford Escape or maybe they were in the blue Chevy. He wondered if they tried to drive on the turnpike and got caught up in this mess, trying to get to him. But it was no use. It was hard for Jon to focus because there was so much destruction. He thought back to the news footage of Los Angeles where that airplane crashed onto Route 45. No airplanes here. But what would that matter? The turnpike is so fucked up, it might as well be the same place.
The lanes split off as the road rose and approached a short overpass. The left lane was where they needed to be. It would take them back down to the ground, headed west. They glanced down at the dark road that had a concrete barrier separating the opposing sides. Thank God, Jon thought. At least a little something to protect them from the oncoming traffic. But there were still cars. Some moving up the way and others stopped. Crashed. Similar to what they’ve just been through, but more spread out it seemed. More room for comfort and moving faster. As long as they could avoid being fried like the man back at the tolls, it would only take about an hour for them to get to Jon’s exit.
“You think we’ll make it through this fucking mess tonight?” Emily asked.
“I think so. Are you comfortable driving? I could take over if you’d like.”
Emily thought for a moment as she drove down the bend and onto the next part of the turnpike. Her hair was soaked to a darker black. The cool night’s air flowed through the blasted-off windshield, fighting against the smell of hot metal and rubber.
“I…” Emily got interrupted by a ding sound coming from the dashboard. She peeked over the wheel and saw an orange-lit gas pump icon pop up beside the odometer. “Well isn’t that just fucking perfect?”
“Oh no. Are we low on gas?” Jon asked, feeling a sweat come across his face beneath the rain coating.
Emily sighed. “Yeah. Fifty miles until empty. Goddammit!” She slapped the steering wheel. “I didn’t even think to fill it up. I mean, I didn’t know all this was going to happen. God, I’m
such a mess! What the fuck is going on?”
“It’s alright! How would you even know? This whole thing just happened overnight. Neither of us could’ve guessed we’d be having to do this,” Jon said, trying to calm her down a little. The truth was Jon was upset too. Fifty miles left? Shit! His thoughts wouldn’t help the situation. Only worsen it.
“We just have to keep going,” Emily said with another angered sigh. “Can’t stop now. We will just have to see how far we can get. Do you know how many miles away your house is?”
“I can check on my phone, give me a sec.”
Jon leaned upwards and pulled out his iPhone, careful not to cut his hand on the pieces of windshield glass that were covering just about every inch of the car. He turned on the screen and pressed on the app that read GOOGLE MAPS. After a short load, a virtual map of their location popped up with a red triangle moving along with the Nissan. He slid up the bottom of the map with his thumb and entered his address. 524 Franklin Court, Springsdale, Pennsylvania. Jon’s face became sweatier now, redder too. He didn’t want to tell her how many miles it would take. They wouldn’t have enough gas for the trip.
“About sixty-eight miles,” Jon said, now sighing himself. It was out there. Sixty-eight goddamn miles. At least the Verizon satellites still work. The maniacs haven’t gone to space yet.
“Are you serious?” Emily ran her fingers through the top of her hair.
“Yeah. Approximately an hour and two minutes at this rate it says.”
Emily gripped the steering wheel tighter, looking more focused now. “Sixty-eight miles, huh? Isn’t that a fucking blessing?”
Jon didn’t say another word but nodded in silence as his eyes remained on the screen of his phone. He hit a little plus icon on the app, and it brought up options for local places. Restaurants. Hotels. Gas stations. He hit the pump and nozzle icon and the virtual map zoomed-out from their exact location and showed red blimps that pinpointed the different stations surrounding them. He pressed on the closest blimp, a Speedway. Five miles away. A robotic woman’s voice spoke from Jon’s phone. It was loud and clear.
STARTING ROUTE TO SPEEDWAY IN HUNTINGTON, PENNSYLVANIA.
IN FOUR AND A HALF MILES, KEEP RIGHT TO TAKE EXIT THIRTY-THREE TOWARD HUNTINGTON.
“If we follow this, it’ll take us right to a gas station,” Jon said, looking up. They were approaching figures on the side of the road. Two people who were waving their arms up and down, trying to get Emily and Jon’s attention. They were drenched.
“We can’t stop for them,” Emily said without taking her eyes away from the road. It was as if she knew the people were there without seeing them. “It’s not safe. We can’t risk it.”
Jon agreed but didn’t say anything as he made out two women wearing tank tops and short shorts, jumping and looking terrified as they waved their arms harder and higher as the car approached closer. Their breasts bounced. Then, they started to move closer to the road, almost putting themselves in front of the car.
“Hey!” the two women shouted. “Hey! Please help us! Please! Hey! Pullover! Please!”
Emily HONKED the horn. The two women backed away to the side of the road again, still shouting. Emily sped up and the two women continued to wave and scream as Jon looked back at them through the only side view mirror that remained on the Nissan. They put their arms down and looked disappointed. They started to shout and curse, but their voices faded away.
“I guess we have no choice, right?” Emily asked, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist. “We have to get gas, or we’re fucked. I really hope we can get some juice in this thing or I don’t know what we’ll do. We might have to steal a car or something. SOMETHING. God, I need a cigarette. I don’t care if I have to rob the place. Where are we going again?”
“Speedway. Only three miles now.”
“I don’t think we even have Speedways in East Gap. Hess or Sunoco. Do they sell cigarettes there?”
“I’d imagine so. They have them at all the other ones I think.”
“They better.” Emily let out another sigh and rubbed her nose ring. “You think there’s even a gas station left? For all we know, there could be nothing but a pile of ashes when we get there. Then what?”
“Then we’d just keep going to the next gas station. There’s gotta be one still standing. They can’t all be wiped out ya know?”
“True.”
“Would you know how to steal a car? Hotwire, I mean.”
Kind of. I have a cousin who had a boyfriend show us one time how to do it. He was homeless or something at one point and was able to get the job done with only a screwdriver.”
“Wow.”
“He did it though. A screwdriver was all it took. He was fuckin’ nuts but he got the job done. Yeah, interesting folks up at East Gap, let me tell ya. A fun bunch. A lot of wackos and creeps, but with all of this shit going on, I would take them over whatever the fuck these things are any day. Hell, even my father wasn’t this shitty to me and he was quite the shithead.”
Jon blew air from his nose. Now didn’t seem to be the appropriate time to bring up daddy issues, but Emily got right into it.
“Who would’ve thought getting away from one abusive relationship would lead me right into another one? The only difference is I don’t think these monsters are fueled by alcohol, at least not all of them.” She gave a depressing chuckle.
“Yeah, I think there’s something more sinister going on here,” Jon said, trying to change the subject back to the current state of affairs.
“I could use some alcohol myself. Strong shit, too. Like Jack Daniels. God, I sound like my dad. He’d down bottles of Jack like they were water, slap my mom around, and then take a nap on the couch like it was nothing,” Emily said.
“Jesus,” John said.
“Yep, then he’d wake up hours later, forgetting he ever laid a finger on her. She’d yell and scream until his hangover got him pissed off all over again. Chairs, plates, the vases. He’d throw them all over the house without an ounce of regret afterward. One time, he hit me right above the eye with one of my mom’s high heels. I had to get stitches and the bastard never once apologized for it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s terrible.” Is this necessary right now? Jon thought.
“Now you know why I smoke, huh? All I wanted to do was get away. I figured if I came to White Haven, I could figure out what I wanted to do with my life, but the truth is I still don’t have a fucking clue,” Emily said, glancing over at Jon with a little side smile. “Do you smoke or drink, Jon?”
“Nah, that’s not really my scene.”
“Well, good for you. They’re not habits you want to pick up. Then again, at this point it wouldn’t really matter, would it? Might as well drink and smoke as much as you’d like! I don’t imagine any of this getting any better.”
Ebola? No, couldn’t be. Swine flu? Jon tried to make sense of it all. The behavior from his classmates was shocking. Unreal. What would make people do this? Drive a two-ton truck into somebody? Was Grandma sick with the same thing? My parents? Please, no. . .
“I think you’re right. Maybe I’ll try a smoke with you if we get out of this alive,” Jon said.
“You never even tried a cig before?”
“No, never.”
“What a nice, innocent boy,” Emily said. “What were you studying to be?”
“A psychologist. Maybe have a career as a therapist or counselor. I don’t know. I feel the same way you do. Some days I don’t have a clue myself.”
IN TWO MILES. KEEP RIGHT AND TAKE EXIT THIRTY-THREE TOWARDS HUNTINGTON.
Emily did a great job maneuvering through obstacles on the road while maintaining a speed between fifty and sixty miles per hour.
There were more overturned cars. Cars stopped in the middle of the road. A knocked over tractor-trailer. It seemed they were the only ones going west. An occasional set of headlights would shine from the opposite lane, but no one tried to plow through the barrier.
No more tractor-trailers. No more explosions. They didn’t even find any more people on the side of the road waving for help. It all seemed so easy. Too easy. What’s going to happen? Something’s got to happen, Jon thought.
And, just before he could think another thought, something did happen.
Chapter THIRTY
Movement
There was movement in the woods across the field. Shrubbery shook. Twigs snapped. It made Little Jon’s heart race. A shadow flashed between the trees. Big Jon looked into the scope. Here we go. This is it. Little Jon leaned in closer to his father, ready to take hold of the trigger.
But time passed and nothing happened. No sign of a deer or any animal coming out of the trees. Big Jon leaned back from the scope. Cold breath poured from his mouth beneath his mustache. His eyes darted left and right over the field, scanning the woods.
“Did you see where it went?” Big Jon whispered.
“No, I-I lost it. I think I saw its tail though.”
Big Jon reached down into his camouflage backpack that lay just beside the rifle. He unzipped the side pouch and pulled out a deer call, or as Little Jon called it, the giant straw. The top of it was a wooden cylinder with the words HARDWOOD GRUNTER on it. The bottom half looked to Little Jon like a big, black bendy straw, shaped and flexible like the ones he’d get at restaurants when he was really young.
“I want you to call it,” Big Jon said, handing over the giant straw. “Remember the breeding grunt we learned about?”
Little Jon nodded. He took the straw and puckered his mouth around the top wooden part. Then, he cupped his hand around the opened bottom of the bendy end. Big Jon looked back into the scope as the breeding grunt call played. The sound always made Little Jon think of a frog or toad. A strange sound. His hand opened and then closed and then opened again as he repeated the noise for a few seconds, cupping the sound. Big Jon went back to the backpack and pulled out binoculars.
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