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1
Lazlo
It would’ve been a beautiful evening in spring, if it weren’t for all the zombies howling.
The rumbling of the truck engine always seemed to have a soothing effect on the other survivors, and they were sleeping while I stayed awake. I was leaning against the tailgate, with a thick canvas cover keeping most of the sky hidden, but when I tilted my head, I could see the bright crescent moon among the sea of dazzling stars.
At times like this, I was always tempted to think of Remy. From where she was locked up inside the medical ward back at the Blaine County Quarantine Zone, I doubted she could even see the moon. There were no windows in the room they kept her in, but maybe she had escaped by now.
It had been seven days since I had been evacuated from the quarantine with eleven other survivors, because the zombies were weakening the perimeter walls. A soldier friend, Pvt. Tatum, had stayed behind and promised to help Remy get free before it was too late.
Now, for the first time in six months, there was actually a chance that Remy and I were looking at the moon at the same time, and I found some comfort in that.
My main concern, though, was that Harlow was safe, and so was I. My focus had to stay on the here and now, on ensuring the two of us survived, and not on any daydreams about maybe reuniting with Remy.
I didn’t know for sure how many people lived back at the BCQZ, but we had been sent out in small groups. The people who were studying the virus had deduced that larger groups attracted zombies. The sweet spot was apparently fewer than a dozen.
Along with myself and Harlow, there were ten other people:
? Private Kerrigan, a soldier I had gotten to know back at the quarantine, and he was generally considered the one in charge since we’d left
? Riva and Calvin, a medic and her boyfriend who worked in the mess hall
? Drew, a man in his thirties, along with his two nephews and one niece, but I couldn’t remember the children’s names, and it would be rude to ask them what they were called now that we’ve been travelling together for so long
? Bâo and Vân, sisters from Vietnam who kept to each other mostly, but I knew Bâo a little because she had worked with Harlow back in the quarantine
? Kimber, a teenage girl about Harlow’s age, and the two had been attached at the hip since we left
For the past week, we had all spent the majority of our time crammed into the back of the truck, putting as much distance between us and the zombies that were overrunning our former home in the BCQZ.
We stopped for breaks during the day, scavenging for supplies when the opportunity arose, and we camped out at night. We headed north into the Canadian wilderness, since the zombies were rumored to be cold avoidant. The hope was that, eventually, we would stop hearing them, and then we would start looking for somewhere to make our new home.
We had yet to go a day without hearing zombie groans, although, they had been sounding more distant. At least, they were until tonight.
Usually, we’d have stopped to camp out by now, but Kerrigan kept driving onward. I was way in the back, so I couldn’t ask him why, but I assumed that he heard the same howling I did.
It had begun after most everyone else had fallen asleep, and as the night went on, the howling grew closer and more aggrieved. I wished the military truck could go faster, but at least we were moving.
A loud sound – like a small explosion – came from underneath the truck, and all at once, the vehicle lurched forward before flipping and rolling.
2
Lazlo
The back of the truck was full of elbows and screams, as we tumbled head over feet over one another. Harlow cried out, but the sound was cut short as the truck skidded on its side.
“What the hell happened?” someone asked, and one of the children was crying.
I scrambled on my hands and knees out of the back of the truck onto the asphalt road. My eyes darted around, scanning the moonlit highway and surrounding forest for any sign of zombies.
When I couldn’t see any, I turned back to the truck to check on Harlow. But Kimber was already feeling around in the dark, saying her name.
“What’s wrong with Harlow?” I asked.
“I don’t think she’s in the truck,” Kimber replied. “She must’ve gotten thrown out when we flipped.”
I spun around and shouted, “Harlow!”
