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Authors: Sean Thomas Fisher
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just happened.
With the aid of some Burger King napkins
found in the glove box, Dan was back in a flash. They took the much needed
flashlights, ammunition and water from the trunk – another break – and climbed
back into the warm cop car while Paul made a mental note to grab some hand
sanitizer somewhere along the line.
“Here, found these in the console.” Dan
slipped a Mounds Bar and a Milky Way through the metal cage.
Paul offered Sophia the Mounds Bar and
she shook her head. He handed her the Milky Way and she shook her head again.
“You have to eat something.”
She hit him with a cold glare that made
him look away.
Unwrapping the Mounds Bar,
he watched Dan toss M&Ms into his mouth, one after the other. The squad car
didn’t handle nearly as well as the Jeep, but it did okay. They took back roads
around Kansas City and its sprawling burbs , smoke
billowing in the distance and dusk scratching the sky. Paul looked over to Sophia
who was leaning against her door sound asleep. His stomach turned when he thought
about clearing the next place. They couldn’t even clear a gas station without
losing half their crew. Now down to three, how many would it be tomorrow? Or the day after that? Paul checked his guns, Mike’s dead
eyes watching him from the far corner of his mind.
Dan pulled off the interstate and rolled
through some small town that looked just like the one before it. Paul stared out
the side window and yawned. Normally, orange street lights would be flickering
across his face, but in this new world shadows ruled the night. Everything
looked different in the dark, leaving them trapped in two different worlds –
one where they could see and one where they couldn’t, both deadly in their own
right.
“Where are we anyway?”
Dan yawned. “Dwight, Kansas.”
A yellow school bus, flipped on its side
in the ditch, sailed through the squad car’s headlights. Paul could’ve sworn he
saw small heads bobbing around the open emergency door in the back. He shivered
and pumped the shotgun. Maybe the earthquakes were warning signs after all. Maybe
Ebola and ISIS finally met their match. Maybe this modern day horror story was
punishment for having more friends on Facebook than
in real life, for texting instead of talking, for shuffling through life with
our heads down like a bunch of zombies while our neighbors quietly pleaded for
help.
Civility was lucky…it died before
any of this hell began.
Dan stopped the cruiser in the middle of
a snow covered road, just on the outskirts of small town USA. Up on the left, a
large two story bar resembled a log cabin more fitting for The Great North
Woods. In large red letters, The Red Stallion adorned a tall sign in the moonlit parking lot. Below that, smaller words
reminded everyone that line dancing lessons kicked off Saturday night at seven and
Colt Ford would kill the stage on March ninth. Across the street was a single
story brick building with a sign of its own across the roof reading Dancers in big curling letters that, undoubtedly, came to life at night when there’d
been electricity. The dark neon beer signs covering the blacked out windows
made Paul guess they hadn’t been doing line dancing in there.
There were no cars in either parking lot,
which didn’t mean squat. Those things didn’t drive, not yet anyway.
“Let’s just sleep in the car,” Sophia
said, staring out her window. “I’m not getting out.”
Paul traded an uneasy look with Dan in
the mirror and set a tentative hand on her leg. “It’s too dangerous. What if
they saw us and surrounded the car?”
“Then we run them over!”
“It’s not that simple. This is just a
standard cop car and it could stall or get stuck or I don’t know but it’s too
risky.”
“And I really don’t want to wake up to a
hand smashing through the window and grabbing my face,” Dan added, eyes
bouncing between them.
Sophia looked up as if realizing Dan was
still here for the first time in hours.
With the aid of some Burger King napkins
found in the glove box, Dan was back in a flash. They took the much needed
flashlights, ammunition and water from the trunk – another break – and climbed
back into the warm cop car while Paul made a mental note to grab some hand
sanitizer somewhere along the line.
“Here, found these in the console.” Dan
slipped a Mounds Bar and a Milky Way through the metal cage.
Paul offered Sophia the Mounds Bar and
she shook her head. He handed her the Milky Way and she shook her head again.
“You have to eat something.”
She hit him with a cold glare that made
him look away.
Unwrapping the Mounds Bar,
he watched Dan toss M&Ms into his mouth, one after the other. The squad car
didn’t handle nearly as well as the Jeep, but it did okay. They took back roads
around Kansas City and its sprawling burbs , smoke
billowing in the distance and dusk scratching the sky. Paul looked over to Sophia
who was leaning against her door sound asleep. His stomach turned when he thought
about clearing the next place. They couldn’t even clear a gas station without
losing half their crew. Now down to three, how many would it be tomorrow? Or the day after that? Paul checked his guns, Mike’s dead
eyes watching him from the far corner of his mind.
Dan pulled off the interstate and rolled
through some small town that looked just like the one before it. Paul stared out
the side window and yawned. Normally, orange street lights would be flickering
across his face, but in this new world shadows ruled the night. Everything
looked different in the dark, leaving them trapped in two different worlds –
one where they could see and one where they couldn’t, both deadly in their own
right.
“Where are we anyway?”
Dan yawned. “Dwight, Kansas.”
A yellow school bus, flipped on its side
in the ditch, sailed through the squad car’s headlights. Paul could’ve sworn he
saw small heads bobbing around the open emergency door in the back. He shivered
and pumped the shotgun. Maybe the earthquakes were warning signs after all. Maybe
Ebola and ISIS finally met their match. Maybe this modern day horror story was
punishment for having more friends on Facebook than
in real life, for texting instead of talking, for shuffling through life with
our heads down like a bunch of zombies while our neighbors quietly pleaded for
help.
Civility was lucky…it died before
any of this hell began.
Dan stopped the cruiser in the middle of
a snow covered road, just on the outskirts of small town USA. Up on the left, a
large two story bar resembled a log cabin more fitting for The Great North
Woods. In large red letters, The Red Stallion adorned a tall sign in the moonlit parking lot. Below that, smaller words
reminded everyone that line dancing lessons kicked off Saturday night at seven and
Colt Ford would kill the stage on March ninth. Across the street was a single
story brick building with a sign of its own across the roof reading Dancers in big curling letters that, undoubtedly, came to life at night when there’d
been electricity. The dark neon beer signs covering the blacked out windows
made Paul guess they hadn’t been doing line dancing in there.
There were no cars in either parking lot,
which didn’t mean squat. Those things didn’t drive, not yet anyway.
“Let’s just sleep in the car,” Sophia
said, staring out her window. “I’m not getting out.”
Paul traded an uneasy look with Dan in
the mirror and set a tentative hand on her leg. “It’s too dangerous. What if
they saw us and surrounded the car?”
“Then we run them over!”
“It’s not that simple. This is just a
standard cop car and it could stall or get stuck or I don’t know but it’s too
risky.”
“And I really don’t want to wake up to a
hand smashing through the window and grabbing my face,” Dan added, eyes
bouncing between them.
Sophia looked up as if realizing Dan was
still here for the first time in hours.
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