Chapter Text
I hadn’t been preparing for the Apocalypse necessarily, but if I’m one thing, it’s a planner. On nights when I can't sleep, doom-surfing the web, I got caught in rabbit holes.
Earthquake preparedness.
How to survive a flash flood.
What to do if the country was invaded.
Procedures to follow during a global pandemic.
The dead walking hadn’t been on my list of possible disasters, but my planning meant I didn’t panic when they did. Well, any more than any normal person would panic seeing a dead body stand up and take a chunk out of a reporter live on the news.
I hadn’t even fully processed what I had seen before I had packed several go-bags into my very fuel-efficient Jeep and gotten the Hell out of Atlanta, messages sent to all my friends telling them to do the same and where they should meet me, where might be safe.
Barreling down the highway, I take in the miles-long line of cars stuck in traffic going the opposite direction. The radio had told everyone to come to the refugee center in the city, and it seems like most people in the area are listening. I hadn’t even considered following that instruction. The population density of a city and the surrounding suburbs mixed with a threat that fed on people sounds like a terrible combination. And anyway, I have somewhere better.
The traffic jam stretches on, and I can see people wandering in the spaces between cars, stopping to talk to anyone who looks like they might have an idea of what to do now. People standing on car roofs to see if they can spot what’s holding everyone up. Children running around playing without a worry.
I feel bad for them. They’ll find out soon that there is no salvation in the direction they’re facing, and then they’ll panic. I plan to be far away when that happens.
Anxiety is creeping up the back of my neck, making my scalp sweat. I’ve been running on adrenaline for hours and a crash is incoming, of both exhaustion and emotions. I feel the burning at the back of my eyes and push back the tears as the thoughts of my friends start swirling around.
The cell towers are all now either down or overloaded from use. I don’t know if my texts went through, if they know to get out of the city, or if they had even listened.
I need to get off the road, find a safe place to camp for the night and pick the journey back up in the morning. I pull over to the median wall and unfold the map of Georgia I had packed. With the fading light, I find my current location and scan the surrounding areas for somewhere to camp.
The quarry. Not too far to put me majorly off course, but far enough to avoid any problems that may arise on the highway once people start realizing there is no salvation where they were going. That will work.
A knock on my window has me reaching for the pistol sitting in my cup holder. I stop myself from grabbing it when I notice it is just one guy. He gestures for me to roll the window down, so I do a few inches.
“Evening ma’am,” the man starts. A typical Georgian drawl and manners. Dark hair and a large crooked nose, he’s handsome and something in his smile says that he always has been and is no stranger to using that to his advantage.
“Yes?”
“Couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be going in the wrong direction.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Instead, I nod toward the lines of cars that haven’t thinned in hours. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”
“There a reason you’re fleeing the city like a bat outta Hell?”
He isn’t wearing a uniform, but I peg him for a cop. The way his questions are phrased like I owe him the answers.
“Didn’t want to be around when everything went FUBAR.”
He looks surprised at that. Like he hasn’t even considered that the plan to cram hundreds of thousands of people into some hastily set up refugee centers won’t go perfectly. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Shane!” a dark-haired woman calls him from a car a few yards away, her arm around a young boy, 10 maybe 12. “Carl’s hungry.” Another woman, this one older with short gray hair, stands nearby similarly embracing a young girl.
Determination and dismay war on his face. I can guess what it means. He wants to help them, provide for them, but he hadn’t thought it would take this long to get to the centers, hadn’t prepared correctly.
I reach over to one of the bags in my passenger seat and pull out a box of protein bars. Soon, things like that will probably be worth more than gold, but I have plenty. “Take these.”
I push the box through the window opening and he takes it, immediate gratitude filling his eyes. “Thank you.”
I nod. He turns away to bring the food over to his family, but another look at the little boy and girl has me stopping him. “Hey!” I call, and he stops. “When shit hits the fan, people are going to freak out. You don’t want your family in the middle of that.”
He still looks skeptical, like he trusts the government and the Army will come in and clean up the mess and we’ll be back to our lives by next week. I almost pity him.
“Do you know where the quarry is?” He shakes his head, and I hold up my map and point. “Here, bout 10 miles northeast of the interstate. I’ll be camping there tonight. I have a feeling there will be safety in numbers during this thing, so y’all are welcome to join me.”
“Thank you, I’ll consider it if traffic doesn’t start moving soon. For the record, I hope you’re wrong about Atlanta.”
He walks away before hearing my response. “Me too.”
I’m just pulling into the quarry, hoping the last bit of daylight would last long enough to get my tent set up, when the helicopters fly overhead. Not even a minute later, I hear the explosions.
Screw the tent, I’ll sleep in the Jeep tonight.
I jolt awake from my adrenaline crash just after dawn when a caravan of vehicles enter my campsite. I’m already drawing up worst-case scenarios and contingency plans when I recognize the cop from last night in the leading car. It seems he extended my invitation along to some others.
With a twinge in my lower back from sleeping in my car, I climb out to assess the new situation.
The cop gets out of his car and scans the area for threats before nodding for his wife and son that it’s safe.
“I see you brought some friends,” I call out to him.
He makes his way over to me. “Some of them asked to tag along when they saw we were leavin’, others just followed.”
My mind is already moving a mile a minute, the pros and cons leaping out like they are written in the air in front of me. The RV will be good to have, as well as the canoe strapped to the top. It’s a good bet that the guy with a crossbow strapped to his back can hunt. The five children I can see might be a problem for noise. And other than the car driven by an Asian guy a few years younger than me and a couple with a small girl, most don’t seem to hold many useful supplies for roughing it. I can’t tell how many others have weapons.
“Hey, what are you thinking?” the cop asks, looking like he wants to wave a hand in front of my vacant stare.
“Figuring out what’s more important: introductions, skill assessments, supply inventory, or ground rules.”
“Rules?” He’s taken aback.
I nod. “For all we know, civilization as we knew it just fell. It won’t take long for anarchy to take over if we let it. There also are now literal monsters out there that want to kill and eat us. There needs to be a plan, a system, or we won’t last long out here.”
“Are you a cop?” he asks.
I almost laugh, “No, I was in risk assessment and management.”
He cracks a smile, “Seems like that might come in handy.”
I shrug, “It’s good to have a plan that considers all angles.”
“And what rules would you set?”
“No loud noise, keep nighttime fires to a minimum, everyone pulls their weight and contributes a skill to the group, you get one warning and then you’re sent packing.”
“Think that might be a little harsh?”
I look around at the new additions to the camp again. They are all slowly getting out of their cars, some starting to unload things, some chatting with other groups. I know it is the right move, but I don’t know if I could send any of them away either.
My plan had been to continue on my journey, only stay for the night. But after seeing the highway last night, I know I don’t want to get caught in the mass exodus they’ll all be making now that Atlanta isn’t an option. So, I’ll stay. I’m not sure how long exactly or how to decide if it is indeed safe to continue north, but I’ll take each day as it comes.
“If you say so. Can you gather everyone and start with introductions and ground rules?”
“Why not you? It’s your plan.”
I shake my head, “It’ll be better coming from an authority figure, especially if he’s a man. This is still Georgia.”