It had taken a short amount of time for the world to fall to shit.
Climbing the hill on Van Buren road to reach the Heights set Matt in a terrible mood. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles mottled white, which was pretty tight for a ginger to mottle. He knew Lucy heard his teeth grinding inside his freckled cheeks as his body fell on old habits to cope with the stress. He didn’t experience it often, but the end of the world made for an exception.
People ran into the streets, jumped on the hood of the car, or banged on the windows begging to catch a ride. Thirty minutes was how long it took them to get gas at the Exxon station. Matt broke out the pepper spray to get a turn at the pump. Some people jammed the lines by pumping free gas into cans or gallon water jugs.
Meanwhile, others rushed out with armfuls of cigarettes, condoms, and snacks. Marveling over the hierarchy of priorities, Matt appreciated humanity maintaining the status quo. And when one looter rushed by and dropped a box of Trojan Magnums they might miss, he didn’t hesitate to retrieve it for himself. Stuffing it into the pocket of his cargo shorts with the pearl, he muttered, “Never know when it’ll come in handy.”
At that moment, Matt glanced into the car at Lucy. She was lying low in the seat just as he’d asked, biting her nails and scanning the commotion. Pretty blond hair, always curled at the ends, framed her worried dark-blue eyes. Her muscles were stiff, and her features were strained with tension. Matt preferred when they had class together, and Lucy looked relaxed and capable. Here she seemed outside of her element. The sudden urge to protect her struck him, to make it his mission to improve her situation.
Matt shook his head and looked away. He wasn’t about to guarantee the safety of someone in a brand new, uncertain world. So although he pocketed the condoms—and yes, he thought of Lucy as he did it—he remembered exactly what was in his trunk and shut his budding, protective instincts down.
Matt hopped back into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. At the pump beside them, three people argued over cutting in line. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought—yup—he glimpsed a gun. “Okay, we’re heading out.” With no hesitation, he pulled onto the road and away from that mess.
Eyes wide, Lucy followed the drama, saying, “I can’t believe that guy even brought a gun. Hasn’t he heard the news reports?”
“It’s not for the alien-vampire things. It’s for the other humans,” Matt explained. He tried not to dwell too much on the reports. None of it was helpful, repeating, “Our weapons are useless, our bodies are weaker and ultimately slower. Good luck dying.” Although, no one yet reported what happened to those who were simply taken.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
“What do you think they’re doing to us?” Lucy had read his mind.
Matt sighed, heavily. “No clue. Best not dwell on it.”
They both sat in silence as he concentrated on swerving around abandoned vehicles and hundreds of panicking pedestrians. The going was slow. They were not even a block away from the gas station when a massive explosion set the world behind them ablaze.
Both Lucy and Matt jumped so hard they almost hit the headlining of the car. She turned back, while he fiercely scanned the rear-view mirror. Siding, wood, tin roofing, and bits of neighborhood scrap rained down on the road behind them. Little metallic tings came from the roof as small rubble showered his white car in soot.
Goosebumps pricked Matt’s skin, and some color drained from his face. He said, “The world really is going to hell in a handbasket.”
For the fourth time since they’d set out on their journey, Lucy suggested in a shrill voice, “Maybe we should abandon the car.”
No fucking way. Matt had spent all last summer training for baseball and working so he could buy this car off his no good, piece of shit father. No way was he about to give it up so some asshole could fishtail it down the street and set it on fire. “We’ll make it,” he offered coolly and traversed over a sheet of siding.
Matt had visited the Callahan’s bookstore only once before. It was in a small string of shops very similar to one another in the bend up the road. The area was surprisingly devoid of people. Some were scattered here and there, but no one was trying to raid the local sushi restaurant for ingredients right at the beginning of the apocalypse. He pulled the Chevrolet Malibu down a skinny alley which butted up against the back of the bookstore.
Lucy gave him a quizzical look before scanning around and behind him.
Matt said, “It’s less likely to be stolen with a full tank of gas back here.”
The car might be full of gas, but he suddenly deflated against the driver’s seat as if he’d ran all out. Matt knew Lucy was watching him as his entire body practically sank into the pristine, creamy leather. Air blew out of his cheeks, and he finally let his hands drop from the steering wheel.
Only an hour ago, Matt had rammed his car into an army of monsters. Only four hours ago, the world was still negotiating for freedom. And only six hours ago, he was a somewhat normal high school student.
Matt stared at his hands, expecting them to shake. The hardest part was hiding from Lucy exactly how excited he was about it all. He wanted to explore the textures and colors of pain and fear. He wanted to see into homes abandoned, see how they lived. And he wanted to observe the Icarean activities. What were they doing with the people they stole? Were they murdering them? Taking them elsewhere for some kind of experimentation? How could he learn the answers without being taken himself? The only way to find out waited in that bookstore. He was sure.
“It’s scary, isn’t it?” She broke his reverie, mistaking his silence for concern.
Matt peered up at Lucy and said, “That’s one way of putting it.”