Ryan Westfield - Final Chaos

But she felt it coming on strong now.

She knew not to fight it.

She knew she had to just ride the anxiety out.

“What are you looking in the mirror for?” said Aly, noticing that her husband kept glancing back.

“There’s a truck behind us,” said Jim.

He said nothing more.

“That’s it? There’s a truck behind us?”

She could hear the slight panic introducing itself into the tone of her voice.

Jim ignored her.

Aly leaned into the middle seat so that she could see out the windshield better.

“Why don’t you slow down a little?”

Jim didn’t answer.

“Now I remember why we were always fighting so much,” muttered Aly. “You have that terrible habit of simply not answering my questions.”

The plane was coming more and more into focus.

It was a huge plane, but Aly didn’t know anything about planes.

There were windows on the sides, so it must have been some kind of commercial passenger plane. There were markings on the side and tail. Some kind of company logo, but she didn’t recognize it.

“It looks like they landed OK,” said Rob, from the front seat.

“They’re facing the wrong way,” said Jim.

“Facing the wrong way?”

“There’s no way they’re OK,” said Jim. “Otherwise they would have landed the same way we’re facing, using the road as a runway.”

Sure enough, after a couple minutes of tense silence, the plane was fully in view.

The road had curved around in such a way that there’d been a clump of trees and buildings obscuring the view of the front of the plane.

Now, they could see it in its entirety.

And the front of the plane was completely gone.

About twenty five percent of the plane’s length was simply missing.

The rear section seemed unscathed, although some large scrapes and scratches were now visible. They ran along the plane on the portion underneath the windows.

The young woman let out a gasp of surprise and craned her head to see more of it.

Aly found herself holding her breath, noting that her heart rate had started to accelerate. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest.

“I can’t…” said Rob, his voice full of surprise, without finishing his thought.

Jim said nothing. He just kept driving straight down the road, right towards the plane.

Something was on fire. She could see the smoke billowing out of the charred wreckage of the front of the plane.

The ground was covered in charred rubble.

Trees that had been in the path of the plane had been decimated.

The front of the plane had crashed into a two story brick building, which was now mostly rubble.

A horrible stench hung in the air. It smelled like burning plastic and chemicals.

“Jim! What are you doing?”

They were close now, only a hundred feet away.

The plane was looming up huge in front of them.

“We’re not turning back,” said Jim.

He slowed the Subaru down, jerked the wheel, and made a sudden turn off the road.

The car bounced as they drove over the small curb and as the wheels hit the bumpy ground off to the right side of the plane.

“We’re not going to make it,” said Rob, practically yelling. “Look up ahead.”

The Subaru bumped along tremendously as Jim made a wide arc around the rear of the plane.

“It’s fine,” said Jim.

The fire in the front of the plane seemed to have intensified. Smoke was billowing now in their direction, even though they were on the opposite end.

The absence of any rescue crews whatsoever suddenly really struck Aly.

“Aren’t we going to stop?”

“Stop?”

“And help them. The survivors. They’re going to be in bad shape.”

“We’ve got to concentrate on us,” said Jim. There was a hardened edge to his voice, one that she’d heard before when he’d made up his mind about something and didn’t want to change it. “There’s going to be a lot of people in dire circumstances. We’re not going to be able to help them all. So we’ve got to draw the line.”

“Seems a bit selfish,” said Aly. “Not that you would know anything about that.” She said the last part somewhat sarcastically even without intending it. She’d accused him of selfishness in countless arguments, and she knew that he’d catch her tone, even if the others didn’t.

“I’ve got to concentrate on driving,” said Jim.

Aly saw him glance in the mirror again.

Aly turned around to see that the small truck that’d been behind them had decided to also circle around the plane.

Now the truck was closer, and it was driving faster than they were across the bumpy ground.

But only a minute later, Jim drove the Subaru back over the curb and they were back on the road, which looked fairly clear of vehicles. There were a few dots up ahead that must have been stopped cars.

“You feeling OK, honey?” said Aly, putting her hand around the woman next to her.

She didn’t answer at first, just glared suspiciously at Aly and shook her shoulder free of Aly’s hand.

“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Jim. “But we’re going to do the best we can do get out of here.”

“And what then?” said Aly, realizing that her husband didn’t actually have a plan, aside from getting out of the city.

“We still have to figure that part out,” said Jim, who wouldn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

“Watch the road,” said Aly. “You can’t keep looking behind us.”

“We might have a bigger problem than that,” said Jim.

Aly turned around once again.

Behind them, she could hear the whine of the small truck’s engine.

The truck was accelerating rapidly and now it pulled up alongside them.

There were two men in the car. Big burly muscular types who looked like they’d spend their lives going between the gym and some tough manual labor job. The one in the passenger seat, who was closest to Aly, wore a red and black checked flannel shirt unbuttoned all the way down to reveal a dirt stained white t-shirt. Neither were clean shaven.

“What do they want?” said Rob.

The Nissan kept pace with them as Jim weaved around a stopped car. The Nissan showed no signs of simply passing them.

They wanted something. That was clear.

The man in the passenger seat had the window down now, and he waved his hand in an unmistakable gesture. They wanted Jim to stop driving.

The passenger was shouting something, but Aly couldn’t make out what it was over the wind and the wine of the engines.

She saw Jim’s hand move as he shifted gears and increased their speed.

But the Nissan kept pace with them.

“What are you going to do? They want you to stop!”

“I’m not stopping,” said Jim.

“He’s got a gun!”

The passenger of the truck had produced a gun. Some kind of big handgun, which he held menacingly out into the open air, pointing it towards the sky. Now, he lowered it and pointed it towards Jim.

Jim glanced over, saw the gun, and reached down into his waistband.

Aly didn’t know the first thing about guns except that Jim had one. She wasn’t against them the way some people were. Jim, of course, had urged her over the years to learn something about them, at the very least. But for one reason or another she’d never gotten around to it. They just didn’t interest her that much. Her life had seemed so calm and safe that she couldn’t imagine a situation in which a gun of any sort would have been necessary or even useful.

It had been just one of many things that she and Jim hadn’t seen eye to eye on in their marriage.

A gunshot rang out.

The man in the truck had fired his weapon. She didn’t know if he’d shot at them and missed, or merely fired a warning shot into the air.