Road Trip

Long drives aren't for everyone; endless hours in a vehicle make the active fidgety, not everyone agrees on the music, and having nothing to do but stare out a window can be torture to even the most patient person.

She didn't mind them so much though; she'd been conditioned for them since childhood, when her parents would take her on a three-day trip to visit Nana Emmie for the Summer...before Mama got sick.

This trip, however, was nothing like the exciting ones from her past. She still sat in the backseat with her head resting against the rumbling window, but there was no music to bob along to.

The radio was on a Hellish roulette of static, one of three "breaking news updates" that never seemed to have new updates, and the Emergency Broadcast Alert. It was easier to just drive in silence.

She sat up, the vibrating glass against her forehead finally too much to take, and she met Derek's eyes through the rearview mirror.

That was the fifth time she caught him looking at her. She knew Derek well enough to recognize the concerned tilt to his lips.

"You okay, Peach?" He asked.

She was the only one who hadn't been able to get a hold of her Dad before they started the trip, couldn't even try now with the cell towers down.

Dad wasn't in the best health on a good day, and with the stores being either over-run or out-of-stock, she couldn't squash that nagging in her gut that he wasn't doing good.

"I'm fine," She said. Lies.

Derek shared a look with his friend in the passengers seat; she always called him Bob. A frown stretched across Bob's face and he turned, locking gentle brown eyes with hers.

"I'm sure we'll find 'em."

"Thanks," She said, leaning away from their staring eyes and putting a stop to this talk.

Because, unknown to Derek, Bob, and even Cassidy in the seat beside her, they were not going to find Peach's parents. She was holding out the faintest bit of hope of finding her Dad, but she knew her Mama was dead.

No one had told her anything for sure, but Peach couldn't shake their last face-time from her head.

Mama had missed one of their calls, and had messaged her saying she forgot but she wouldn't miss their next one; she didn't want to bog down Peach's time with too many video-chats.

So when Peach's phone rang on their next meeting day, a mere four weeks since their last, she was shocked to find a woman she didn't recognize on her screen.

Hollow cheeks, sharp angles to the jaw, skin an ashy pale, eyes sunken in; she was positive she was staring at a corpse. Until that corpse greeted her with a falsely cheerful, "Hey my sweet Peach."

Jesus, somehow her Mama looked better going through aggressive chemotherapy than she did now.

Peach must have appeared horrified, because Mama's smile slipped away. "You're gonna hurt my feelings, Sweetheart."

She shook her head, vibrant orange waves of hair fluttering about her shoulders; the same color as her Dad's.

"Sorry, Mama. How are you doing?"

A rough, hacking cough seemed to burst through the speakers and Peach's heart dropped. She recognized that nasty cough.

"I've been better. I just wanted to call and check up on you."

"I'm doing good."

They had their usual chat, though frequently interrupted by that hacking, and, even after they gave their "I love you's", Peach could still hear it. An earworm that hated her with every fiber of it's being.

The last message she got from anyone in her family was from her Dad, saying he had to take Mama to the hospital. That was six days ago now, and twelve hours before the world fell to shit (excuse the language).

A virus, something new and unusual, hit the country so hard and fast, it left everyone spinning. Hospitals were over-filled, under-staffed, and unprepared; once the medical staff started getting sick, things took a dark turn.

Stores had been stripped bare of everything. Literally everything. Her last real meal had been at the cafeteria at school. Otherwise, her little quartet survived off of vending machines and skeazy gas stations. Likewise, gas prices were soaring. Lines stretched out to the highway in some places for a single gallon of ten dollar gas.

As for the sickness itself, the media was silent on anything that mattered, set to repeating instructions on staying away from the sick and not hoarding supplies.

There had been no time to research this illness, and no people left to do so. Because those that got it...they changed. Now, this isn't sci-fi, this is real life; sick is sick, and dead is dead. But the time between sick and dead is short and pure Hell.

Cassidy knew at least a handful of people who had died suddenly from hyperthermia (being way too hot and feverish), lung collapse (exactly as it sounds), or total organ failure (the body shuts down). Not everyone shows the same symptoms and not everyone reacts the same way. But those that survive their way to organ failure are the ones who change.

This virus, as far as Cassidy can guess with her pre-med major, attacks the brain and brain stem. Peels away our finer details, like memory, coordination, speaking, and keeps grinding until there's nothing left but a fleshy shell.

People haven't gone cannibalistic or anything, they're not zombies. But they're not...them.

And, as much as Peach hates to think of it, her Dad hadn't seemed like himself for a week leading up to Mama's hospitalization.

A vibrant cluster of sunny orange flowers caught her eye as they zoomed passed; marigolds. She was flung back in time to those road-trips with her parents. The more marigold's she saw, the closer they were to home. They were maybe half an hour away, tops.

She couldn't stop the smile from curling on her face if she'd tried; in this moment, she was with her family on that drive to Nana's.

The car lurched, hurling her back to the present as Cassidy startled awake and threw her arms out, clutching at Peach's shoulder.

"What the Hell?" She shrieked. She leaned forward, a poisonous glare on her face, before the look dropped completely.

Peach leaned to look out the front window, and gasped. Traffic as far as the eye could see, bump-to-bumper over three lanes.

"Shit, think there was a wreck?" Bob asked.

"Had to be a big one to block up the entire highway," Derek said. He threw the car in park and sighed. "Hopefully it'll clear up soon."

They'd crept forward all of one inch in ten minutes before Bob let out an annoyed breath.

"Well, looks like we're gonna be here for a bit. I saw a sign back there about a gas station up ahead. Anyone want to get out and stretch their legs?" He asked.

Cassidy made a small "whoop" of confirmation and the two set off on foot, a single pistol tucked on a holster at Bob's hip. On a normal day, Peach would consider leaving the vehicle a rookie mistake, even when armed. In these times, she called it a stupid, dangerous necessity.

They moved about a yard in the hour the two were gone and had nothing new to report when the duo returned to the car with some bags of chips, stale doughnuts, and some water bottles; a good trip in that regard at least.

The half hour to home turned into half a day in the silence of the car. They were stopped again; the silence was almost overwhelming but the forced small chatter was even worse.

Bob rolled down his window in a sudden flash, and stuck his head out.

"What are you doing?" Cassidy asked.

He poked his head back in and said, "There's some soldiers up there."

"What?" Derek asked, craning his neck to try and see.

"Yeah, a lot of them."

The car rustled about on it's axis as the girls scrambled to look to the side of the highway. Indeed, a group in military colors were walking up to cars; each man held a weapon in their hands and they stayed in groups of three.

Peach didn't need to mention how ominous their approach was, she could see the unease clearly on everyone's face. A trio approach their car, trampling a small bed of fresh marigolds as they came up to Bob's window.

The man in the middle, marked Diaz on his uniform, took one step closer. "Hello ladies and gentlemen, this area is off limits for passing through. You'll need to turn your car around and take an alternative route."

Peach settled herself between the front seats and said, "Wait, I need to get home. This is-"

The soldier cut her off without turning his head, and though his eyes were hidden beneath dark glasses, she could feel his stare on her.

"Ma'am, this town is under a strict quarantine as of midnight last night. No one is to enter or exit the area. Now please-"

"What!" Peach couldn't help it, she had to yell. His unseen gaze burned into her and she collected herself. "I'm sorry, I-I haven't heard anything about a quarantine. My family is there, I just want to check on them."

Diaz paused a moment, appeared to think, then asked. "I'm going to need to see your license or proof of residence."

She fished it from her pocket, and held it out over Bob's shoulder. Diaz didn't take long to read it. He turned to his fellows, as if questioning, and one guy shrugged.

He let out a deep sigh and removed his glasses, striking hazel eyes meeting hers in a way that seemed almost gentle as he handed the license back.

"Ma'am...I'm not supposed to say this, and I won't sugar coat it, but I don't want you guys to do something stupid. In short, this town has been decimated. The virus has been incredibly aggressive here, and the people have been worse. There have been mass casualties. So I will not let you go through and you'll all be arrested if you attempt to sneak in. Just...trust my word on this one. If you haven't heard from your family, consider them gone."

A cacophony of "Who the Hell do you think you are?", "You don't know anything about her family", and a resounding "Fuck you bro" erupted from the car. None of which originated from Peach.

She could see it on his face, that hardened look of a man who'd been through too much; had seen it on her Grandpa's face during Fourth of July celebrations, knew he'd been in a war. So the sincerity she saw on Diaz's face hurt. Because he probably did know about it, had probably cleaned up some bodies.

That look on his face can't be faked, it's earned.

"Thank you, sir," Peach said, loud enough to silence her friends. "We'll...we'll be on our way. Thank you for telling me."

He gave a solemn nod and the trio walked away.

She didn't meet anyone's eyes as their car paused before rolling around. It took some time, but they made it to the other side of the highway, where the asphalt was bare of traffic.

She didn't meet anyone's eyes two hours later as they pulled up behind a gas station, the only space they could find, and got out to stretch their legs.

And no one tried to talk to her as she found a handful of bright, lovely marigolds, plucked one up, and held it close, tears falling delicately on the petals.