Shia looked up at the leaden grey sky and decided it was shortly after noon; with the thick clouds obscuring what weak sunlight there was, it was bound to start getting dark soon. He tightened his grip on Gina’s hand and pulled her onwards, ignoring her protests that her feet hurt and she needed to rest. She’d rolled her eyes earlier at his explanation that they needed to find shelter before dark, and he didn’t feel very sympathetic towards her, especially after he’d told her she needed more practical shoes.
A flash of anger went through him as she dragged her feet, whining like a child, then yanked her hand free of his and dropped down on the curb with a huff. She answered his glare with one of her own and snapped, “I need a rest. My feet are killing me.” She reached down to pull off her heeled sandals. “Look, blisters.”
“I told you to put sneakers on,” he said, only just keeping himself from adding, ‘idiot.’
“Oh, shut up, Shia. You always have to be right, don’t you?”
“I was right. If we get in trouble, you're not going to be able to run.” He looked around them, uneasy even though they were alone on a stretch of long road. Fields stretched out to either side, flat and brown in the cold November air; he could see a long way all around them but still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was sneaking up on them. “Come on, Gina.”
“I need a break. I’m not moving any further until my feet stop hurting.”
“I should just leave you here. You can sit and rot.”
“You won’t leave me,” she said smugly.
“Gina.” He caught her gaze, watching the smug expression fade from her face. “Get up now.”
Something seemed to tug in the back of his mind as he spoke the words and Gina stood up so fast she almost toppled over again, her eyes blank and her face devoid of expression. Suddenly uncertain, Shia eyed her for a moment, then snapped his fingers in front of her face. The glare she shot him should have vaporized him on the spot, but he was just glad that the blankness had disappeared from her features.
“Let's keep walking, okay, Gina?” he said, trying to keep his tone even and calm. “Just until we find somewhere to stay for the night. You want a piggyback or something?”
“No, I do not want a piggyback.” She rolled her eyes, an act he’d become intimately familiar with in the months they’d been dating. “Honestly, Shia, I'm not 5.”
He resisted the urge to tell her to stop acting like it then and simply turned around to keep going. They walked in silence, Gina with the sulky pout to her mouth that Shia had learned to recognize early on in their relationship. It meant she didn't want to talk to him, and she wouldn't talk to him until he did something to make up for whatever had ticked her off. Half the time he didn't even know what had made her angry in the first place and the other half he wondered why he put up with it.
Deciding that ignoring her was easier than trying to coax her out of her bad mood, he thought back to what had put them out here on this empty desolate road with no car and no place to go. He'd been in the lounge in his dorm, doing some homework, when someone had flipped on the big TV set on the wall, tuning it to the local news. The news anchors had been in mid-discussion on the eruption of a super-volcano, as ticker tags ran below repeating his words in short form. Shia had put down the textbook he was reading and sat up to see the TV better, as other students trickled into the room to watch.
The newscaster didn’t have much more information than the basics, though that was enough to make him believe the world was royally screwed. He'd left once they started repeating themselves, first going up to his room then, when he found it was empty, going to see Gina. She'd complained that she was studying but let him in on a promise that he would be quiet and not bother her. He'd ended up falling asleep on her bed, until loud screams from outside jolted him out of restless dreams.
He could still see the chaos that had erupted on the normally quiet campus when he closed his eyes. As he'd leaned out the window to see what was going on, he'd seen a blonde girl he vaguely knew from one of his English classes fleeing a tall football player. The football player was a lot faster and soon caught up to her, grabbing her by her long hair and yanking her backwards. It had been hard to see what happened next, and Shia was trying to deny it, but a deep part of him knew the football player had ripped her throat out with his teeth.
He'd told Gina to grab her coat and shoes and dragged her out of the building. Somehow they had managed to escape in all of the confusion, though they soon discovered that the violence was not confined just to the campus. It had been a harrowing run to his car, which had had the back window smashed in but was otherwise still whole. At least, he'd thought so, until it had spluttered and died only a mile out of the city, leaving them to walk.
Beside him Gina was complaining about her feet again, just loud enough that he knew he was supposed to hear it. He tuned it out instead, trying to decide what they should do. He knew they couldn't keep wandering without a destination in mind; it would only be a matter of time before they were picked off. His best idea was to head for some sort of government building, but he didn't dare turn around to go back into the city and he didn't know the area around it. Sighing, he decided to keep walking and look for the nearest house or building.
A few droplets of rain fell on his head and he glanced up at the sky again. Rain had been threatening all day and as the clouds built up he’d become aware he could smell the bitter, acrid scent he’d first noticed just before dawn on the day they had run. He’d mentioned it to Gina but she’d just shrugged, changing the subject back to her current favourite complaint. He wished he knew what was in the air, and how it was affecting them.
The road dipped down into a valley, and he saw they would have to cross under a railroad bridge. Dead cars were scattered around the opening, creating a winding maze into the darkness of the tunnel. Just the thought of going into it made his heart take a skipping beat and he has to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. He thought they could go around, even if it took them a while, but when he suggested it to Gina, she looked at him as though he had grown another head.
“I'm not walking all the way around, Shia. Don't roll your eyes,” she added, in response to his reaction to the patronizing way she had said his name. “It's just a bridge, don't be such a baby.”
“Gina, I don't think it's safe. Indulge me.”
“No,” she said. “My feet hurt.”
In desperation he tried to command her to go around, as earlier he had commanded her to stand up, but he felt no tugging in the back of his mind and she just snorted, heading for the bridge. Reluctantly Shia followed her, trying to look in all directions at once. Up close, the cars were as damaged as the ones back in the city, even the ones that had just stopped in the middle of the road. Others had slammed into other cars or into the sides of the bridge itself. It was like walking through an automobile graveyard and Shia felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck just looking at them. He shuddered and squinted into the dark under the bridge, then squared his shoulders and forced himself to follow Gina into it.
He told himself it was all an illusion, but the space under the bridge seemed much longer than it looked from the outside. The light marking the exit was barely a pinpoint, and he could only just see that the tangle of crashed cars continued all along the tunnel. Gina was already picking her way through them, fading into the gloom as she left the weak light cast through the mouth of the tunnel.
Shia hurried to catch up to her, but his toe caught on something and he sprawled on his front, just barely missing splitting his head open on a car bumper. When he picked himself up, there was no sign of Gina ahead of him. He stopped and listened, holding his breath in an attempt to hear better. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and his chest felt tight. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and oppressive. Then behind him and to the right, he heard a soft scrape, like a shoe being scuffed across the pavement.
Panic gripped him and he bolted, running blindly through the tangled steel jungle of wrecked cars. He slipped on something and almost fell again, hitting his shoulder hard on a twisted bumper as he caught himself. The pain was distant and he barely noticed the warmth soaking into his shirt. Footsteps sounded behind him, at least half a dozen to his frightened mind. He put his head down and forced himself to run faster, zig-zagging through the maze of broken cars, his eyes fixed on the light in the distance.
Fingers snatched at the hem of his shirt and then he was out into the overcast afternoon, stumbling as the light hurt his eyes. He hit another car and rebounded off it, pressing a hand to the stitch developing in his side. He risked a glance over his shoulder and, seeing nothing near the exit to the tunnel, gradually slowed down and then stopped, panting for breath. A bird twittered in a tree to the side of the road and he gave a start, swallowing against a cry of alarm. Steeling himself, he took a few cautious steps back towards the tunnel, then stopped again. When nothing happened, he hesitantly walked as close as he dared and tried to see into the darkness beneath the bridge.
“Gina?” He cleared his throat and raised his voice to call again. “Gina, where are you?”
He caught sight of something glimmering in the darkness as he turned his head. It took all of his courage to move closer and reach in to snatch it up, then he scrambled backwards. He took a look at the object in his hand and almost dropped it in disgust, a low whine coming from deep in his throat.
The chunk of bone was still wet with blood, both ends jagged where it had been ripped out. A scrap of flesh hung from one end, but otherwise it had been stripped clean. Clenching his teeth against the urge to vomit, Shia spun and hurled it into the field bordering the road, then scrubbed his palm against his dirty jeans until his palm was red and sore.
Something in the darkness under the bridge growled at him and he fled, running until his chest burned. His shoulder throbbed where he had hit it on the bumper, and that pain finally brought him to a stop. He found a flat, open space and examined his shoulder, wincing as he pulled blood-soaked cloth away from the wound. The gash was deep and ragged, with flecks of paint driven into the flesh around it. He pulled the shirt off completely and used it to make a clumsy bandage and sling for his arm, then kept walking, forcing himself to think about nothing but finding somewhere to spend the night.
It was nearing dusk when he topped another rise in the road and saw the town spread out below him. The sight nearly brought him to tears, and he forced himself into a shambling run to reach it before dark fell. He made it to the nearest plaza and ducked into the drug store, checking to make sure the break room in the back had a door with a lock on it. As the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, he gathered a first-aid kit, painkillers, bandaging, and something to eat. Taking it into the break room, he dumped it all on the scarred wooden table and locked the door, leaning a chair under the doorknob as extra protection.
Exhausted, he dropped down on the ratty couch along one wall and put his head in his hands. He felt as though he should weep for Gina, but he felt completely numb inside. After a moment, he sat up and opened the first-aid kit to clean out his shoulder, twitching as the hydrogen peroxide soaked in. By the time he was finished getting all the paint flakes out, he was surrounded by bloody scraps of gauze and nearly reeling with dizziness. The gash needed stitches, but he wasn't about to try and sew it up himself, and he didn’t think the local hospital would be accepting patients. Instead he swallowed a couple of painkillers and wrapped his shoulder in bandages, then tied it up in a sling.
He didn't feel hungry but he forced himself to eat anyway, picking at the junk food he'd gathered up. He found himself daydreaming of his mother's roast beef, but the thought of his family was too painful and he forced himself to find something else to think about, shying away from thoughts of Gina or of his current situation. Eventually, exhausted, he lay down on the couch to try and sleep. The blanket he'd found draped over the back of the couch smelled musty and was thin, but it was still better than nothing. He closed his eyes and made himself relax until gradually he drifted off into a light, restless sleep.
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