The air was thick with the scent of pine and something else – something metallic and acrid that made my stomach churn. The
'daybreak' I'd hoped for had morphed into a grim, sun-dappled nightmare. May was still half-asleep, nestled against Mom, who
seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant. The twins, Jonathan and Thomas, were already a study in contrasting reactions.
"Looks like the road's blocked up ahead," Dad stated, his voice flat as he pointed at the tangled mess of abandoned cars through
the windshield. It was a graveyard of metal, a testament to the sudden, chaotic flight.
Without a word, Dad veered the car off the asphalt, plunging us onto a narrow, unpaved path swallowed by the dense woods. The
trees instantly closed around us, their shadows stretching long and ominous. We hadn't gone far before the engine sputtered,
coughed, and died with a final, desperate gasp.
"Looks like we're hiking the rest of the way," Jonathan announced, his voice tight with an "I told you so" undertone. Dad merely
nodded, his jaw set.
"It should be about two clicks," Thomas added, ever the Boy Scout, already mentally calculating distances.
"We're walking? You can't be serious!" I exclaimed, disbelief warring with rising panic.
"What do you expect us to do, wait here like sitting ducks?" Jonathan shot back, his voice rising. "We have no idea what could be
lurking in these woods!"
Just then, May stirred, rubbing her eyes. "Mom, are we there yet?" she mumbled, her voice surprisingly gentle.
"No, honey," Mom replied, her attention instantly shifting to our youngest. "Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?" The mundane
question felt jarringly out of place amidst the growing tension.
"Dad, all I'm saying is we go back to the road. There are lots of cars there," Jonathan pressed, still trying to reason with him.
"No way. That's miles away now," Dad dismissed, already unbuckling his seatbelt. "We best get going."
Reluctantly, we piled out of the car, leaving it behind like a forgotten monument to a life that no longer existed. The forest swallowed
us whole as the sun began its slow descent, dimming the vibrant greens to muted, sinister shades.
The silence of the woods was unnerving, broken only by the crunch of our footsteps on fallen leaves and the frantic beat of my own
heart. Then came the sounds: sudden snaps of twigs, the distant, eerie howl of wolves. Every shadow seemed to shift, every rustle
of leaves sent a jolt of fear through me.
"What was that?" I whispered, pointing into the deepening gloom.
"Wait, I'll check it out," Dad said, his hand instinctively going to his belt, though there was nothing there. He moved slowly towards
a thick clump of bushes. A moment later, a rabbit bolted out, darting into the darkness. "Just a rabbit," he announced, but the relief
was short-lived.
"What's that smell?" Thomas asked, wrinkling his nose. Dad and Jonathan both inhaled deeply.
"Smells like a dead animal," Thomas confirmed, a grimace on his face.
We continued, the scent growing stronger, fouler with every step. Then I looked up. Hanging from a gnarled branch, swaying gently
in the unseen breeze, was a body. My hand flew to my nose, but the putrid stench was already seeping into my lungs. Mom quickly
shielded May's eyes. I walked closer, compelled by a morbid curiosity. The man's face was bloated and discolored, but it was his
arm that truly horrified me – jagged bite marks, raw and festering, circled his left wrist.
"He probably killed himself rather than turn into one of those things," I mumbled, the words feeling foreign in my mouth. "Dad,
look at the bite marks. How do you think he got them?"
Dad's face was grim. "I don't know," he said, his voice clipped. "We better get going.
i turned to leave, but something caught my eye. A figure in the deepening shadows, swaying slightly, emitting a soft, guttural
growl. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as I took a tentative step towards her.
"Stay away from her!" Dad yelled, but my legs kept moving, drawn by an insane curiosity. I got closer, the growling growing louder.
Her head slowly lifted, and I gasped. Her face was a ruin, flesh torn away, revealing bone and sinew. Her eyes were milky white,
completely devoid of life. Then, with a chilling shriek, she lunged.
I screamed, pure primal terror ripping through me, and spun to run, but my legs, heavy with fear, gave out. I stumbled, falling hard
onto the forest floor. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact, the inevitable bite.
BANG!
The gunshot ripped through the silent woods, deafening in its intensity. My eyes remained shut, my heart hammering against my
ribs. Slowly, cautiously, I opened them. The monster lay on the ground, still. I turned back, my gaze landing on Jonathan. He stood
there, smoke curling from the barrel of a handgun he held steady in his outstretched arm.
He had a gun? Everyone remained silent, staring at him, then at the fallen creature, then back at him. The question hung in the air,
thick and heavy: Where did he get that?
The silence that followed Jonathan's gunshot was deafening, a stark contrast to the echoing report that still vibrated in the humid
air. All eyes were on him, then on the grotesque form of the "infected" woman sprawled on the leaf-strewn ground. Her milky eyes
stared blankly at the canopy above, a stark horror that cemented the reality of our new world.
"Jonathan, what...?" Dad's voice was a strained whisper, a mix of disbelief and something akin to awe.
My brother, usually so composed, looked pale, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The gun, a compact black pistol, still trembled
slightly in his hand. He lowered it, though he didn't put it away.
"I found it," he finally managed, his voice hoarse. "In the glove compartment of that abandoned SUV, back on the highway. I… I
didn't think it was important enough to mention. But I figured… you know, just in case."
"Just in case?" Thomas burst out, his eyes wide. "Jon, that's insane! You could have gotten us all killed, carrying that around!"
"Or," I interjected, still shaken but feeling a flicker of something new—relief, maybe, or a desperate hope—"he just saved Jenna's
life."
Mom, who had May pressed tightly against her, simply nodded, her gaze fixed on Jonathan with a complicated mix of fear and
gratitude. Dad walked over to Jonathan, his expression unreadable. He took the gun from Jonathan's hand, checking the clip, his
movements practiced and efficient. He then looked at us, his gaze lingering on each of our faces.
"Alright," he said, his voice firm, the fear from earlier replaced by a steely resolve. "This changes things. We stick together. No
more going off alone, not for anything. Jonathan, you did good. But next time, no surprises. We're a team, and we need to know
what we're working with."
He handed the gun back to Jonathan, a silent gesture of trust and responsibility. Jonathan gripped it tighter, a new, heavy weight in
his hand.