I'M PRETTY SURE I just saw a tree get up and move, and then sit somewhere else. Maybe I’ve been at this wheel too long. These dangerous roads are keeping me awake. (Not that I sleep.)
One of the buses ahead of me slides across the road and over the cliffside. Starting from the front, the trucks slow and stop.
I get out and join the Cowboy. Peering down the hill, the truck is on its side, engulfed in flames. Those people are gone.
I can see the discomfort in his face.
“We lost one.” He says.
“They're all dead?”
He nods and takes a few steps away.
“Nothin we can do for em now. Ya gotta keep goin. We don’t want the rest to freeze. They’re gone. Say some kind words and mosey on.”
I look down at the flaming wreckage.
“May you find the peace in death you couldn’t in life. Your struggle is over now.”
We climb back into our buses and continue our death rally to a place I still don’t know.
OUT OF THE FOREST
It isn’t long before I notice a change; the howling wind has stopped. The snow is getting looser, and there is less of it. I can see some nature peeking out of the frost.
In the split of a hair, the road transforms. We come down a slope, and I could hear the sound under the tires. The snow is gone; we are driving on pavement.
I’m happy to leave that winding death trap behind.
I turn and look at my wild comb-over friend; he seems to be enjoying the ride.
I caught a glimpse of the Demon floating behind us. Why didn't she just get on one of the buses? Is it that she feels judged by the humans? Or was it all because she is trying to not tear them apart, so she keeps her distance?
Either way, I’m glad my head is not in her mouth. (I will never forget the feeling of her teeth trying to rip open my neck.)
THE BARRICADE
There is a barricade of cars up ahead. The buses are slowing to a halt. The Cowboy tooted his horn in a familiar tone. I think it was part of a pop song. (Now it’s going to be stuck in my head, and it’s been too long to remember what it was.)
The Cowboy exits his bus, followed by the humans. He looks right at me and beckons me closer.
“It looks like we’re here, everybody. Let’s get off the bus.”
I open the door and exit into the outside air. I can’t say ‘fresh’ on the account that it stinks. You know, rotting things out there, ruining it all. A hazard of surviving the apocalypse: everything stinks.
A young girl stops in front of me and looks me dead in the eye.
“You’re weird.”
I nod my head.
“Thank you.”
Then I helped her move along a little by giving her a gentle guiding shove.
"Hey, I’m telling.” She states.
I can see why the Demon bites the heads off of some of them. Nah, just kidding, I like them enough. If the Demon was going to do it, I might not stop her. (No, I’m going to do the right thing.) We can give the kid a chance and see how she grows up. (Then the Demon can bite her head off.)
We are manoeuvring around the vehicles on their side, bottlenecking us into single file and coming out into a blocked-off pit. We are sitting ducks here. I’m starting to wonder if the Cowboy has other motives.