Keary Taylor: The Ashes

When I flip the light switch in the garage, the lights flicker. I jangle the keys in my hand for a second, debating.

There’s a flashy sports car and an SUV parked inside.

Speed would be nice, considering what I’ve just seen in the city, but I decide something a little more solid and dependable is what I need.

Opening the garage door makes me flinch. It pops and groans as it lifts. I don’t wait to see if it has woken Stella as I toss my pack into the passenger seat and start it up. I back out of the garage and pull onto the suburban street.

Darkness falls, making the world outside feel all the more ominous. I keep my headlights off, just to be safe as I drive down the highway. I haven’t the faintest idea where I’m going or what I’m going to do. I just know that I’ve got to get away from people.

Getting away from people means getting out of the city.

I flip the radio on.

The auto search scans through channels. It finds some station playing oldies, but after listening for twenty minutes or so, I never hear a DJ come on the air. It must be a recording. I push the seek button again and listen to silence for a few moments.

“—recorded broadcast,” a voice blares through the speakers. It’s scratchy and threatens to cut out. “The outbreak has spread through all fifty US states. Reports in Mexico, Canada, and many European countries—” The radio starts to cut out. “—ator Biotics is currently under investigation. However, most employees have fallen to the infection. It is being reported the war efforts in the southern United States have ceased, unresolved. No reports on the war in Asia or Europe.”

The broadcast ends with the time and date the message was recorded. Twenty-two days ago.

My guess is that there isn’t anyone left to update the broadcast.

I flip the radio off and stare at the dark road ahead of me.

It’s been years since I’ve driven in the area so I have to go off of my sense of direction and a mental map of the state to try and avoid the more densely populated areas. But when you live out this direction you can’t avoid city. When I see signs for the next town, I press hard on the gas, watching the speedometer creep up past the one hundred mile per hour marker.

There are cars abandoned on the sides of the freeway. They’re mangled and crunched, just like the police car I left back at Aunt Stella’s. Apparently I’m not the only one they’re attacking.

I keep an eye out for any movement. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if I see anyone else out driving, or see anyone who looks like they might still be human. I guess I’ll deal with that when the time arises. But for now I’m just going to get out of the metro area as quickly as possible.

I drive for another two hours when a loud beeping sound from the car makes me jump violently. I look down at the dash to see a red light telling me to refuel. The needle on the gas gage is overlapping the empty line.

Pounding a fist on the steering wheel, I curse under my breath. I’ve still got about two hours before I’m out of this crowded part of the country and into the beginnings of the cover of the mid-west.

I have no choice but to look for whatever exit has gas signs. I keep my headlights off and I can barely see the road as I pull off the ramp and come to a stop at the intersection.

There are cars on the road everywhere, abandoned. I look both ways, seeing only empty roads. Spotting a gas station to the right, I turn the wheel.

I roll up to the station slowly. Many of the street lights have been taken out along the road, but there are two still on in the overhead cover. I debate for a second after parking, but end up pulling out one of the handguns and taking the two remaining lights out. The moon is barely half full, but it provides just enough light to see by.

I grab Uncle Rich’s wallet from my pack and pull out his shiny silver card. Praying the pump is still working, even with no one to attend it, I slide the card in and out. Both to my relief and panic it beeps loudly and asks me to select a fuel type.

While the gas fills the tank, I take both the ancient rifle and a handgun to scope out the inside of the gas station. Keeping out of full view of the windows, I peer around the corner and inside the building.

I can’t see anyone inside and there isn’t any movement. Holding my breath, and keeping my eye on the sight of the rifle, I approach. A bell jingles softly as I push the door open. There are goods strewn across the floor, bags and crumbs crunching under my boots. My eyes scan the walls, not having to travel far in the small space.

The building is empty.

I feel only a little guilty when I start gathering food up into a box. I set it on the counter and walk around to check the till. Considering the current state of the world, I doubt I’m going to need cash money for a very long time, but it couldn’t hurt to have it.

My feet stop just short of stepping on the body.

There is a man lying on the floor. Through the dark I can’t really see many details, but I can tell he’s dead and not sleeping like Aunt Stella. I’m pretty sure the dark halo around his head is blood. He’s got a shotgun lying next to him.

Careful not to step in the blood and leave tracks that I was here, I cross to the register. It takes me a moment to figure out how to open the cash drawer but it finally pops open.

I wasn’t the first to find the body. The drawer has already been cleaned out.

I shake my head as I turn back to the dead man and relieve him of his firearm. I find a box of ammunition under the counter. When the world starts to go to hell, you always chose a weapon over money.

The tank is filled when I get back outside. I hook the nozzle back in its place and set my new box of food supplies in the back of the SUV. I’m about to hop back in when I notice the building across the street.

It’s a sporting goods store.

I’m torn as I look back toward the SUV and then back to the store again. In the end I can’t resist and switch Uncle Rich’s shot gun for the newer one. I check the ammunition and then silently cross the street.

The glass front door has been busted in and that’s nearly enough to send me unharmed back to my vehicle. But like the man that makes too many mistakes that I am, I step through the broken glass inside.

It’s pitch black when I get more than fifteen feet from the front doors. There are no windows in the building. One of those warehouse types. I head to the cash registers, and as I suspected I would, find two flashlights under the counter.

I switch one on, holding it level with my shotgun.

My blood drops to my feet.

There is an entire row of those things standing just feet behind the line of checkout stands. Twelve of them. They’re just standing there, their eyes open and empty. Just like Stella. They’re looking right at me, but I can tell they’re not seeing me.

I have to remind myself to breathe. Breathe quietly.

I’m about to leave when I see the section where they have all the firearms. It’s only about ten yards away.

My eyes never leaving the bodies before me, I take one cautious step to the right. None of them move. I take another two. Still nothing seems to notice me. Keeping the shotgun pointed in their direction, I slowly back towards the firearms section.

I wish I had more time to actually look at the labels and make sure I’m getting the right ammunition, but I don’t dare waste any time. I grab a shopping bag from behind the counter and start grabbing anything that looks remotely correct.

Daring to dash another twenty yards away, I grab one of the largest hiking packs I can find. After finding the key, I unlock the display case and grab two bigger handguns. I slip the ammunition inside the pack after them. Looking back toward the sleepers, I move silently toward the hunting knives.