Ryan Westfield - Staying Alive

“Thanks.”

“You OK to drive?” said Georgia. “We’ll take shifts. That way everyone can get some rest.”

“Not really,” said Chad. “But what choice do we have?”

“Right,” said Georgia. “I’ll stay up with you. Everyone else, get some sleep.” She turned her head around to address the rest of the group. “You hear me?”

Chad looked in the rear view mirror, adjusting it. James and Sadie had already fallen asleep, passed out cold, their heads tilted to the side and their mouths open. Max had fallen asleep as well. His injury must have really exhausted him, because it wasn’t like Max to let himself sleep while others kept him safe.

Chad felt a moment of panic. If Max didn’t make it, what would they do?

But this wasn’t a good time to worry about that, and Chad knew it.

Only Mandy remained awake, but she was looking out the window with a far-off look in her eyes. She wouldn’t be awake for long.

“Here goes nothing,” muttered Chad, as he slowed the van down to take the turn onto the road. The gate was already open. The original owner of the van had left it that way.

The tires of the van ran smoothly along the paved road.

It was strange to be driving the van on a paved road. It almost felt like the EMP had never happened, and society had never collapsed. After all, the driver’s seat was upholstered and comfortable. And there was air conditioning and even a radio. Not that the radio would work. And not that they’d use the AC, since it would use up far too much gas.

“Let’s hope this goes well,” said Georgia. “Who knows what we’re going to find out here.”

“We don’t even know where we’re headed,” said Chad.

“Max said you’d traveled west, right?” said Georgia. “I think he thought you were going to be our guide, since we don’t have any maps for the other states.”

“Are you serious?” said Chad.

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“I mean, I’ve bounced around a little, yeah,” said Chad. “But it’s not like I know the routes or anything. I usually took the bus… One time, I made a road trip to LA in an old jalopy that a friend lent me… To be honest, I was out of it most of the time. The only thing I remember is that the roof was caving on me.”

“You drove high?” said Georgia, disdain filling her voice.

“Uh, yeah, wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Sounds like you haven’t had a lot of those.”

“Not really. Nothing I can do about it now, though.”

“You’re doing good, Chad,” said Georgia.

He looked over at her briefly, and she looked at him.

He knew she was referring to his effort to be responsible, to look out for the others, to do more than his fair share of the chores back at the farmhouse.

Georgia wasn’t the sort of woman to throw out excessive compliments. So, coming from her, it was kind of a big deal. Especially since Chad already felt like he’d screwed up so much at the farmhouse.

Chad drove on. Mandy had already fallen asleep, along with the rest of them. He and Georgia didn’t speak for the next half hour.

Being out on the open road was the strangest thing. The sun was shining, bright and cheery, and the country road couldn’t have looked more peaceful. The leaves on the trees were bright and green. It would have been a beautiful, relaxing drive, had the situation been entirely different.

Chad tried not to let his mind wander. But he couldn’t help it. He tried his hardest to think of practical things. They needed to know where to go, first of all. And they’d need food, not to mention water. And of course gas. They couldn’t go anywhere without that. They had just one tank. One pitiful little tank. Who knew how far that would take them, with six people in a fully-loaded down van that couldn’t have gotten the greatest gas mileage to begin with.

Chad couldn’t focus on any of that.

Instead, he found himself reminiscing about a trip he’d taken when he was younger, the year before he’d gotten involved in drugs. If he was being honest with himself, it was one of the last truly coherent memories he actually had. It’d been a hiking trip with the local camping group, and they’d headed up to the Poconos, where beautiful pine trees lined a small man-made lake. There wasn’t anything really exciting that had happened on the trip. It was more that there’d been a certain feeling he’d always associated with that area. It was the feeling of peace and calm… Chad had no idea why he was thinking about it now.

Max was injured. Everyone else was asleep. Georgia may have been there, but Chad was driving. And he was just as fatigued as the rest of them. He wasn’t ready for this level of responsibility. He just wasn’t that kind of guy, and he knew it.

Why couldn’t it have been Chad that’d been shot, rather than Max? He certainly wouldn’t have relished being shot. Or the ensuing pain. But he didn’t deserve this responsibility.

Max had been injured because he’d stuck his neck out for all of them. Chad hadn’t done so, though. So there wasn’t any more to think about.

“Chad!” said Georgia, sounding frantic. “What are you doing?”

That snapped Chad out of his daydreaming and thinking.

His eyes had been on the road, but he hadn’t really been focusing.

Suddenly, Chad saw it.

In front of them, on the long stretch of two-lane country road, there was a roadblock.

It was nothing more than some tree trunks that lay across the road.

If they collided with it, the van would be toast, and they wouldn’t have a vehicle, arguably one of their most important tools for survival.

Who’d put those logs there? Were there people lying in wait?

And if they couldn’t get through here, where were they going to go? There’d been no other roads since leaving the farmhouse driveway.

There was no time to worry about that now, though.

If only Chad had noticed it earlier.

He slammed on the brakes.

But the van was rapidly heading towards the logs.

The last thing Max remembered was leaving the farmhouse. He’d passed out into a deep, dreamless sleep from which he remembered nothing.

Next thing he knew, everyone was shouting.

Max’s eyes were open in an instant. Up ahead was a rudimentary roadblock made of tree trunks dragged into the road. If that college kid had gotten through, coming from the west, then that meant the roadblock was new. Brand new. That meant there was someone there.

Shit, this wasn’t good.

It’d looked like they’d crash into it. But Chad slammed on the brakes just in time, and the van came skidding to a stop.

“What do I do?” said Chad, sounding frantic and worried in the driver’s seat.

“Keep your heads down,” said Max.

Everyone did as he said.

“Guns as ready as you can get them,” said Max. “Or knives.”

It’d be hard to get their rifles ready in the confines of the cramped van. But if it came down to it, they could open the windows and stick the rifles out. If it really came down to it, they’d open the doors and get behind them for shelter.

Max’s hand was already on his Glock.

His leg was killing him, but he’d ignore it as best he could. He was pretty sure he could walk again now. He’d gotten enough rest. For now, at least.

And if he could walk, he could fight. Maybe not as effectively as before. But he’d do it.

Max was scanning the surrounding area through the slightly-tinted windows of the minivan.

“Should I turn around?” said Chad frantically.

“Not yet,” said Max. “Keep the engine on.”

“Shouldn’t I turn around?”

“Not yet,” said Max.