Twelve hours earlier
Twelve hours earlier.
“We’re lost. I don’t recognize anything!” Jordan wailed, crumpling the maps she held in her lap.
Sara bit her tongue so hard she thought she tasted blood. There was no use losing her temper, but the girl was making it damned difficult to be patient with her. Kids nowadays had no notion how to get by on their own without their cell phone and their daddy’s VISA card. The fact that Sara was only a few years older than Jordan was irrelevant, as far as Sara was concerned: she was just the exception that proved the rule. Besides, she was technically a generation older, which automatically made her more knowledgeable. Right.
“Okay,” she expelled her breath in a sigh of exasperation. “What am I looking for, Jordan? Don’t look for landmarks, it’s too dark for that now. Just tell me what road to look for.”
“I don’t know!” came the reply. “We were doing fine until we left the highway, and now I don’t know where we are anymore, and I don’t know what road this is, and I can’t see anything!”
Sara drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she kept the car going at a steady clip of seventy kilometers an hour. It had been dark for almost an hour now, and to her annoyance and considerable dismay, a fine rain had begun to fall, freezing on impact and making visibility problematic, to say the least. To either side evergreen trees slid by in a blur of grey against grey. The only source of illumination on the road was the beetle’s highbeams, which cut through the darkness directly ahead, and serving only to plunge the rest of the world into inky blackness. There was no way to read any of the road signs (had there been any to read) except for the brief moments in which they were illuminated by the car’s headlights. Sara had no idea where they’d taken a wrong turn, and her attempt to backtrack had not brought her back to any recognizable location. In short, Jordan was right: they were lost.
“Okay, time for Plan B,” she said, forcing herself to sound optimistic and cheerful, as though they had been going out for a picnic and been forced to relocate due to rain. “We keep following this road until we find a village, or a town, or any building that still has lights on.”
“What if there isn’t one?”
“This isn’t the godforsaken howling wilderness of Northern Quebec, Jordan,” Sara chided her companion. “We’re in the Laurentians, one of the trendiest ski resorts in Quebec. You can’t spit without hitting some new condominium project, or so I’ve been told. I think the last time I went skiing around here, I was twelve years old. Anyway, I keep hearing all about the huge economic boom around here. We’re bound to find something eventually.”
Her eyes flicked anxiously to the gas meter on the car: almost half full. That was good news, anyway. The car wasn’t great for winter driving, but it had good mileage, and that was a blessing right now. With the heater at minimum, they could still drive for another hundred and fifty kilometers without worrying about a refill. For whatever reason, the zombies they’d seen on the way out of Montreal had flocked around the various gas stations. Perhaps because so many living people had stopped to try and put gasoline into their cars, a mistake which had cost them their lives.
“What if it’s full of zombies?”
“God, and I thought I was pessimistic! If it’s full of zombies, we keep going until we find a place that isn’t full of zombies. If there are only a couple of zombies, we squash them with the car and stay there until morning.”
Jordan crossed her arms and stuck her hands in her armpits to warm them, her breath pluming in front of her, and said nothing. After a few moments, Sara heard her unsuccessfully try to stifle a sob. Sara winced. She was useless at offering comfort when it was needed. Marco used to tease her that she was about as empathetic as a porcupine. She glanced over uneasily at Jordan, who was staring resolutely out the passenger-side window and pretending that she wasn’t crying. Sara looked back at the road, wondering if she ought to say something, or if that would only make things worse. Maybe Jordan didn’t want her to notice. Maybe she was embarassed. Better not to say anything, in that case. Then again, maybe Jordan was hoping she would notice, and do something about it. She was the oldest, the one in charge of this whole thing, and Leadership 101 dictated that she find a way to keep her team together, even if that team was a frightened girl.
“I suppose it’s too dark for car bingo,” she offered in a jocular tone. “Too bad -I would have kicked your ass at it.”
To her relief Jordan offered her a watery smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve got a pretty-” she broked off with a shriek. “Look out!”
A shadow appeared in the headlights. With a curse Sara slammed her foot against the brake pedal, and felt the rear wheels of the car lose their grip on the road. The car fishtailed, and she twisted the steering wheel around, trying to turn into the curve, instinctively pumping the brake with her foot. There was a grinding sound as she realized, too late, that this wasn’t an old jalopy like she was used to driving, but a car that came with anti-lock brakes as a standard installation. The shape that had reared itself before them like some kind of phantasm was nowhere to be seen, but the damage was done. Jordan was shrieking, her arms thrown protectively over her head, as Sara felt the car spin out of control, the summer tires skidding on the icy road, the anti-lock braking system completely out of commission. With one last desperate wrench she tried once again to pull the car out of its tailspin, only to have it spiral sideways across the road. Instinctively she braced herself for the impact as, with a dull crunching sound, the car collided with the trunk of a large maple tree a few yards off the road. Her head snapped back as her airbag deployed and smacked her hard in the face, forcing her back against her seat, and she lost consciousness.
It took a moment for her to remember where she was when she awoke. She opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus on the splintered windshield before her, the broken glass looking like a million overlapping spiderwebs. The hood of the car had sprung open, and she could hear the hiss of escaping steam. Her head was throbbing, and her ears still rang from the impact, and so she guessed she couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few minutes. Gingerly she reached down and released her seatbelt, testing her arms and legs to see if all her limbs were still intact. They were, although there was a sharp pain in her neck and shoulders that she would likely be feeling for many days to come.
“Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. Jordan, what about you?”
There was no answer.
“Jordan?”
Sara turned in her seat, and felt her heart rise into her throat. The car had smashed sideways into the tree, and was now wrapped partially around the trunk. The passenger-side window was gone, and Jordan lay on her side, her head at an awkward angle where it had smashed through the glass, resting on the door. Tentatively Sara put a hand out to feel for a pulse, but she knew she wouldn’t find one: the girl’s skull was all but crushed.
“Christ.” Her stomach heaved in protest, and she looked away, swallowing hard.
She turned back and tried to force open her own door, but it was stuck fast.
“Shit!”
Fighting back panic, she pulled up both legs and began to kick determinedly at the windshield. After a few moments the splintered glass finally gave way, and she was able to pull herself from the wreckage and crawl over the hood of the car. She fell to her hands and knees on the ground, and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the muddy ground, retching miserably until all she was bringing up was bile, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally managed to stop dry-heaving she clambered to her feet. She was in shock, she knew, and there was no one for miles who would be able to help her. So she had to save herself. No other choice.
“Come on, Sara,” she told herself. “Think. There’s a way out of this.”
A rustling sound in the trees nearby made her head snap up. Something was coming toward her. She could hear it perfectly. It was joined a moment later by another, and then another. She looked around for anything she might use as a weapon, and found a large stick, although she didn’t know how long it would withstand prolonged use. The tire iron Jordan had found earlier was in the car somewhere. She began edging back toward the car, wondering if she oughtn’t to be making for the road instead. No, there was no point in taking to the road if she was completely undefended. The tire iron was right there, at Jordan’s feet.
She could see them now, in spite of the darkness. At least five zombies, slowed down even more by the freezing rain it seemed, but still shuffling toward her, dragging muddy feet through the slush. She eased herself onto the hood of the car and grasped at the tire iron, the tips of her fingers just brushing against the cold metal. Come on, just another inch, she pleaded with herself, hearing the moans coming closer. Her hand closed around the weapon, and she hauled it out triumphantly and sprang to the ground, dizzy with fear and pain and determination.
“All right you sons of bitches,” she said, even though they couldn’t understand her. “You want me? Come and get me!”
“We’re lost. I don’t recognize anything!” Jordan wailed, crumpling the maps she held in her lap.
Sara bit her tongue so hard she thought she tasted blood. There was no use losing her temper, but the girl was making it damned difficult to be patient with her. Kids nowadays had no notion how to get by on their own without their cell phone and their daddy’s VISA card. The fact that Sara was only a few years older than Jordan was irrelevant, as far as Sara was concerned: she was just the exception that proved the rule. Besides, she was technically a generation older, which automatically made her more knowledgeable. Right.
“Okay,” she expelled her breath in a sigh of exasperation. “What am I looking for, Jordan? Don’t look for landmarks, it’s too dark for that now. Just tell me what road to look for.”
“I don’t know!” came the reply. “We were doing fine until we left the highway, and now I don’t know where we are anymore, and I don’t know what road this is, and I can’t see anything!”
Sara drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she kept the car going at a steady clip of seventy kilometers an hour. It had been dark for almost an hour now, and to her annoyance and considerable dismay, a fine rain had begun to fall, freezing on impact and making visibility problematic, to say the least. To either side evergreen trees slid by in a blur of grey against grey. The only source of illumination on the road was the beetle’s highbeams, which cut through the darkness directly ahead, and serving only to plunge the rest of the world into inky blackness. There was no way to read any of the road signs (had there been any to read) except for the brief moments in which they were illuminated by the car’s headlights. Sara had no idea where they’d taken a wrong turn, and her attempt to backtrack had not brought her back to any recognizable location. In short, Jordan was right: they were lost.
“Okay, time for Plan B,” she said, forcing herself to sound optimistic and cheerful, as though they had been going out for a picnic and been forced to relocate due to rain. “We keep following this road until we find a village, or a town, or any building that still has lights on.”
“What if there isn’t one?”
“This isn’t the godforsaken howling wilderness of Northern Quebec, Jordan,” Sara chided her companion. “We’re in the Laurentians, one of the trendiest ski resorts in Quebec. You can’t spit without hitting some new condominium project, or so I’ve been told. I think the last time I went skiing around here, I was twelve years old. Anyway, I keep hearing all about the huge economic boom around here. We’re bound to find something eventually.”
Her eyes flicked anxiously to the gas meter on the car: almost half full. That was good news, anyway. The car wasn’t great for winter driving, but it had good mileage, and that was a blessing right now. With the heater at minimum, they could still drive for another hundred and fifty kilometers without worrying about a refill. For whatever reason, the zombies they’d seen on the way out of Montreal had flocked around the various gas stations. Perhaps because so many living people had stopped to try and put gasoline into their cars, a mistake which had cost them their lives.
“What if it’s full of zombies?”
“God, and I thought I was pessimistic! If it’s full of zombies, we keep going until we find a place that isn’t full of zombies. If there are only a couple of zombies, we squash them with the car and stay there until morning.”
Jordan crossed her arms and stuck her hands in her armpits to warm them, her breath pluming in front of her, and said nothing. After a few moments, Sara heard her unsuccessfully try to stifle a sob. Sara winced. She was useless at offering comfort when it was needed. Marco used to tease her that she was about as empathetic as a porcupine. She glanced over uneasily at Jordan, who was staring resolutely out the passenger-side window and pretending that she wasn’t crying. Sara looked back at the road, wondering if she ought to say something, or if that would only make things worse. Maybe Jordan didn’t want her to notice. Maybe she was embarassed. Better not to say anything, in that case. Then again, maybe Jordan was hoping she would notice, and do something about it. She was the oldest, the one in charge of this whole thing, and Leadership 101 dictated that she find a way to keep her team together, even if that team was a frightened girl.
“I suppose it’s too dark for car bingo,” she offered in a jocular tone. “Too bad -I would have kicked your ass at it.”
To her relief Jordan offered her a watery smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve got a pretty-” she broked off with a shriek. “Look out!”
A shadow appeared in the headlights. With a curse Sara slammed her foot against the brake pedal, and felt the rear wheels of the car lose their grip on the road. The car fishtailed, and she twisted the steering wheel around, trying to turn into the curve, instinctively pumping the brake with her foot. There was a grinding sound as she realized, too late, that this wasn’t an old jalopy like she was used to driving, but a car that came with anti-lock brakes as a standard installation. The shape that had reared itself before them like some kind of phantasm was nowhere to be seen, but the damage was done. Jordan was shrieking, her arms thrown protectively over her head, as Sara felt the car spin out of control, the summer tires skidding on the icy road, the anti-lock braking system completely out of commission. With one last desperate wrench she tried once again to pull the car out of its tailspin, only to have it spiral sideways across the road. Instinctively she braced herself for the impact as, with a dull crunching sound, the car collided with the trunk of a large maple tree a few yards off the road. Her head snapped back as her airbag deployed and smacked her hard in the face, forcing her back against her seat, and she lost consciousness.
It took a moment for her to remember where she was when she awoke. She opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus on the splintered windshield before her, the broken glass looking like a million overlapping spiderwebs. The hood of the car had sprung open, and she could hear the hiss of escaping steam. Her head was throbbing, and her ears still rang from the impact, and so she guessed she couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few minutes. Gingerly she reached down and released her seatbelt, testing her arms and legs to see if all her limbs were still intact. They were, although there was a sharp pain in her neck and shoulders that she would likely be feeling for many days to come.
“Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. Jordan, what about you?”
There was no answer.
“Jordan?”
Sara turned in her seat, and felt her heart rise into her throat. The car had smashed sideways into the tree, and was now wrapped partially around the trunk. The passenger-side window was gone, and Jordan lay on her side, her head at an awkward angle where it had smashed through the glass, resting on the door. Tentatively Sara put a hand out to feel for a pulse, but she knew she wouldn’t find one: the girl’s skull was all but crushed.
“Christ.” Her stomach heaved in protest, and she looked away, swallowing hard.
She turned back and tried to force open her own door, but it was stuck fast.
“Shit!”
Fighting back panic, she pulled up both legs and began to kick determinedly at the windshield. After a few moments the splintered glass finally gave way, and she was able to pull herself from the wreckage and crawl over the hood of the car. She fell to her hands and knees on the ground, and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the muddy ground, retching miserably until all she was bringing up was bile, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally managed to stop dry-heaving she clambered to her feet. She was in shock, she knew, and there was no one for miles who would be able to help her. So she had to save herself. No other choice.
“Come on, Sara,” she told herself. “Think. There’s a way out of this.”
A rustling sound in the trees nearby made her head snap up. Something was coming toward her. She could hear it perfectly. It was joined a moment later by another, and then another. She looked around for anything she might use as a weapon, and found a large stick, although she didn’t know how long it would withstand prolonged use. The tire iron Jordan had found earlier was in the car somewhere. She began edging back toward the car, wondering if she oughtn’t to be making for the road instead. No, there was no point in taking to the road if she was completely undefended. The tire iron was right there, at Jordan’s feet.
She could see them now, in spite of the darkness. At least five zombies, slowed down even more by the freezing rain it seemed, but still shuffling toward her, dragging muddy feet through the slush. She eased herself onto the hood of the car and grasped at the tire iron, the tips of her fingers just brushing against the cold metal. Come on, just another inch, she pleaded with herself, hearing the moans coming closer. Her hand closed around the weapon, and she hauled it out triumphantly and sprang to the ground, dizzy with fear and pain and determination.
“All right you sons of bitches,” she said, even though they couldn’t understand her. “You want me? Come and get me!”