Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

The others, Max, Georgia, and everyone—they probably thought Chad was worthless. After all, he was the one who’d been on watch. It’d all been his responsibility. If it hadn’t been for Georgia, who knew what would have happened.

Chad kept his eyes peeled as best he could, walking around to the other side of the house, to tell Max that the van was almost ready.

He heard footsteps running off to the side, by the woods. It was Georgia and Mandy, their rifles held in their hands.

“Chad,” said Mandy, using a loud whisper when she got close. “People. In the woods.”

Shit. This was the last thing they needed.

Georgia and Mandy didn’t stop running, and they motioned for Chad to follow them around to the other side of the house.

Chad lumbered along behind them, running as best he could, keeping his eyes fixed on the woods that they’d come from.

“What are we going to do?” said Chad, panting.

“We’ve got to get on the road now,” said Mandy.

“How many of them are there?”

“We don’t know. Saw a couple.”

“Max,” said Georgia, running up the wooden stairs of the porch. “Max, wake up.”

Max woke with a start. He instinctively reached for his Glock and had it in his hand before his eyes were fully open.

“We’ve got to hit the road, Max,” said Georgia. “Mandy and I saw people in the woods. More than one. No idea who they are.”

“Shit,” muttered Max, closing his eyes, as if he was thinking hard.

“We don’t have the energy to fight them,” said Georgia. “We’re all dead tired.”

“Yeah,” said Max, opening his eyes again. “Realistically, we’re not going to win, especially if they’re intent on taking the house. Better to just let them have it. We’re not going to make it through another day like yesterday.”

“But we’re not done packing,” said Chad. “I’ve got a lot of stuff in the van, but there’s plenty more I couldn’t fit in. If we left now, we’d be leaving a lot behind. And I mean a lot. I thought you would all want to go through it once more.”

“We can’t be cowboys about this,” said Max. “We’ve got to leave now, whether we’re packed or not.”

Everyone else was nodding their head, in agreement with Max.

Maybe Chad was just exhausted, but in his mind, the provisions were more important than risking another gunfight.

“Look,” said Chad. “Say we get out of here without getting shot, what good is it going to do us if we’ve left something critical behind?”

“You were the one packing the van,” said Mandy. “Let’s hope you did a good job.”

“Come on,” said Max. “We can’t discuss this any longer. How close were they?”

“Pretty close,” said Georgia. “And getting closer.”

Max stood up, gritting his teeth in pain.

Chad moved over to help him up.

“I’m fine,” said Max. But it was clear his leg was killing him.

The group cut through the house, taking one last look around for anything that they might need to grab. Chad stuffed a couple unused candles in his pockets. Not to mention a few pieces of cooked venison that were lying out on some newspaper.

“You’re driving first, Chad,” said Max, as they approached the van.

“I really hope we don’t need any of this, Chad,” said Mandy, eyeing the pile of left-overs on the ground. She spoke his name with disdain.

Truthfully, Chad could understand Mandy’s occasional disdain for him. How many times had Chad and Chad alone been responsible for almost getting them all killed? That didn’t mean it didn’t bother him. He wasn’t like Max. Things didn’t just slide right off of him. He felt everything. People used to tell him that he was too sensitive. Maybe that was why he’d gotten mixed up in drugs in the first place. The first time he’d popped a Vicodin, he felt all that sensitivity and anxiety just slide right off of him. Now, without the drugs, it was like he was entering the world again for the first time.

Chad got behind the wheel, and the rest clambered inside. The van technically seated eight, and there were six of them. The remaining seat, the one in the back right, Chad had piled high with gear. He’d stuffed things under the seats, and in the foot spaces. He’d put knives in the glove box and bandages in the pockets behind the seat. Everything was completely disorganized, a necessity of trying to fit it all in.

Chad closed the door behind him, his hand reaching for the keys which had been left on the dash. He suddenly realized that there was a small chance that the van wouldn’t start. He didn’t know why, but he had a horrible anxious feeling in his solar plexus, a tightness that would barely let him breathe—what if the van didn’t start?

“What are you waiting for?” came Mandy’s voice from the behind him.

“Let’s get a move on it,” said Georgia, in the passenger seat.

Max was in the way back, his eyes seemingly glazed over with pain. James and Sadie were completely silent. They seemed just as nervous as Chad.

Chad turned the keys.

The engine started.

He didn’t yet breathe a sigh of relief, though.

“There they are,” said Mandy, her voice rising in terror.

Chad looked off towards the woods.

Half a dozen figures or so were emerging from the trees. He couldn’t get a good look at their faces. They walked in a pyramid-style formation. The way they moved alone made Chad think of the military. They had large guns with them, held with the muzzles pointed down. Most of them wore camouflage clothes. Something about the way they moved made them seem… professional.

Chad knew one thing. You don’t want to run into professionals during the apocalypse.

After all, what would their profession be? Killing?

Chad was frozen in fear. His hand was on the shifter, his foot on the brake.

“Go!”

“Chad!”

Everyone was urging him to move, to drive. But it was as if he couldn’t get his body to respond. He couldn’t make himself even shift the van into reverse.

“Come on!” said Georgia, tugging on his sleeve.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Chad snapped out of it.

He put the van in reverse, spun the wheel, and hit the accelerator. Chad spun the van around, pointing it towards the road.

“They see us,” said Georgia.

“Are we going to be OK, Mom?” said Sadie.

“We’re going to be OK, Sadie,” said James.

“Go!”

“Go!”

Chad wasn’t sure who was shouting in the van.

He slammed the van into drive, and jammed his foot down on the pedal. The tires spun in the loose earth, and they were off, heading towards the road down the long, winding driveway.

Chad looked briefly in the rear view mirror. The men in formation were out of his sight.

There were no dramatic gunshots. No one shot at the van. No one ran screaming at them.

But the silence was almost worse. Because it meant too many unknowns.

The farmhouse was now in their past. What they had left behind was now gone, and it was unlikely it would be safe to return. Max had been both wrong and right—it’d been a safe haven for what felt now like a brief moment. And it had quickly become too dangerous. They were too close to the cities, to civilization.

They needed to get far, far away, to some unknown and unpopulated lands.

“Who were they?” said Sadie.

No one answered. Because no one knew.

The only thing that seemed certain was that the men weren’t friends. They’d come to take what they needed, and it wasn’t likely they’d be kind. Not with those guns in their hands, not with the way they moved.

“Here,” said Georgia, shaking out a caffeine pill and holding it out for Chad. “It’s the last one.”