The Van

It came out of the darkness, its headlights blinding us for the brief moment it stayed true to our direction. It turned sharply, responding to what it encountered.

The road was full of them and us as we struggled to stay that important step in front of them. We ran past it, not wanting to slow down, not wanting to hope that someone was willing to help us.

“Hey! Stop! What’s going on?”

How could they now know? Didn’t they watch the news? It was everywhere!

The dead had risen and now they were taking over. All you could do was run, try to stay ahead of them. But even then, so many had no idea what to do.

The van pulled up next to us. The driver, a young man with a beard, rolled down the window, “Where are you going? Do you have a plan?”

The panic in his voice was palpable. I didn’t want to stop and I wasn’t sure I wanted to waste precious breath talking to him either. Risking a sideways glance, I stared him full in the face, letting him see the terror, the blood that marred my once porcelain-coloured complexion. “Out.”

“Out? What does that mean?” I could read the confusion and I continued to run, his van keeping pace with us.

“We’re getting out.” I didn’t know why I bothered explaining it to him. It was unlikely he was really going to care.

“Look, get in and we can get out together. Deal?”

I could tell he was nervous, scared to be alone. I also knew there was no way I was going to be able to keep up this pace with a kid on my hip and another tiring at the end of my arm.

“I drive.” It was simple, I’d stated the rules and he acquiesced.

Copyright © 2014 Julianne Snow