Page 38 of Outbreak

A tear slips down my cheek, my eyes burning and blurring the rushing trees out of the window as my heart feels like it’s being ripped apart in two different directions.

What worries me the most—I don’t know how I’ll survive without him, either.

‘Welcome to Georgia’

The headlights reflect off the shiny green sign as we slowly weave through the abandoned cars on the dark highway. The rain is heavy; we can’t see. My anxiety is through the fucking roof. We had to detour around the backroads, getting back on a main highway again. Our last experience is still fresh in my mind—the memories of the horde overtaking the road and pushing me into the woods. Losing Ghost in the chaos and fighting the dead to find him. The little girls in the van cling to their mother. The yellow converse splattered in blood. Every image flashes in my head, like a home movie, making me relive the nightmare over and over again.

“You see the little red circle? That’s where we’re going,” he says, pointing to a spot in the upper part of Georgia. “We’re on this highway, right about here.”

He’s highlighted and marked a path from Louisiana up to Georgia. I notice he’s avoided any major cities or any bold print labels. I trace the line with my finger, finding another road not far from where we are that should lead us in the right direction. Or at least I think it will. I’m fucking directionally challenged. But as long as we get the fuck off this road, I’ll be able to breathe again.

“Here,” I say, my hand shaking as I point to the map and hold it up for him. “Could this road work?”

He slows down even further, almost to a stop, and leans over to look. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Good. Just get us off this goddamn road,” I snap, laying the open map on the dash and sitting up to look around as he speeds up a little and weaves us through the cars and debris.

Where are all the people from these cars?

Probably dead and now lurking around the woods and killing more people. An endless cycle of death. That’s what we’re fighting against.

The air feels suffocating. It reminds me of the first time I met my foster parents. I could feel death—smell it in the air around them. The only time I got a break from it was when I was with Wyck.

Fuck.I haven’t thought of his name in so long. It hurts too much. He got me through five years of living in that house. If it weren’t for him, I would have killed myself after the first year. No matter how much he destroyed me, I can admit that.

Shoving the past out of my mind because I don’t have the mental energy to deal with the fallout, I grab the map from the dash and focus on helping Ghost find the road we are looking for.

“I think this is it,” he says after a few minutes, leaning closer to the dash to try and see through the heavy rainfall. He veers around one of the cars parked in the road, then pulls onto the ramp that's lined with vehicles on the median.

“Take a right,” I tell him, pointing to the map when we make it to the top of the ramp. “It will take us through this town, but then we can get on this road.”

Once the highway is behind us, I take a deep breath, but still, I feel like I’m suffocating. Something doesn't feel right, but I can't figure out what it is. But I do know that I should trust my gut.

“Slow down. Something’s not right.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding panicked as he lets off the gas and takes his eyes off the road to check me over. “Are you okay?”

Our eyes lock in the dimly lit truck cab, time seeming to stall. I’m not okay. But I don’t know how to explain it to him. And the concern etched into his features is too much. I can’t look him in the eyes, knowing what I’m planning. What I need to do. I have to look away. I can’t?—

“Ghost, look out!”

When I look up, a truck comes out of nowhere, abandoned in the middle of the road and hidden behind the downpour of rain, making visibility nearly impossible. Ghost throws his arm across, pushing me back into the seat as he swerves into the other lane, narrowly missing the truck. We spin in a circle before we skid to a stop.

“Fuck! Are you alright?” He throws the truck in park and frantically checks me for any injuries, finding none.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see—” He trails off, his hands cradle my face as he searches my eyes for something—anything. But I can’t meet his eyes. “You’re okay?”

“Yes. Let's just get out and see what’s out there before we try to drive in this again. Maybe we need to stop until it clears up.” I need a second to breathe. Some space away from the intensity of his eyes on me. Before I let myself get lost in them and change my mind.

He is my kidnapper. Not my savior. I learned a long time ago that the only person who can save me is myself.

I don’t wait for his response before I unclip the seat belt and slide out into the freezing cold rain.

“Rue! Wait—God dammit woman!” I slam the door shut and cut off his cursed protest, hugging my arms around my body as the rain pelts into my skin like tiny shards of ice. It doesn’t hurt,though. The rain seems to wash away the anxious tension as I turn my face up to the night sky and close my eyes.

I hear his door slam before I open my eyes and find him in front of the truck, the headlights illuminating the rain as it dances around him. He stands there, watching me through the slits in his mask, looking like a God of Death.

---