Gabriel

I agreed to go on the supply run only because I knew there wasn't going to be another opportunity for my uncle and I to get a moment alone. The camp we'd come from was too packed. You couldn't throw a stone without hitting someone in the back of the head. And I had an important question to ask him.

The old truck rattled down the asphalt. Its tires managed to hit every pothole, every bump in the road, and I bit my tongue at every lurch in the cab as the courage leapt in my throat, only to be swallowed back down when we were thrown around like luggage in an airport.

It wasn't the best place to ask my uncle about us taking off across the country on our own, but I needed to say it. We had to leave camp.

I inhaled, looking at the pine air freshener hanging in the rearview that hadn't smelt like anything except plastic for decades.

"Uncle-" I started, but the truck jerked to the left and I had to use every muscle in my body to keep my temple from smacking against the window.

My uncle chuckled. The deep, baritone type of laugh that only formed from years of abusing cigarettes and alcohol, and the accompanying smell on his breath signaled he hadn't quit that habit, either. He turned to me, the same dark, brown eyes famous in my family, twinkling some type of mischievous humor.

"Should have picked a smoother road, huh? Maybe the one over on Grover Street?" He turned sharply, taking our boring backwood expedition down through a long-abandoned neighborhood.

I stifled a forced laugh. "You took that road on purpose?"

"Just making sure the shocks still work," my uncle replied, patting the dashboard. The sun dried plastic almost cracked from the gesture.

"I'm not so sure there's a mechanic that could help you out if you broke your truck, Uncle," I muttered, sitting back in the seat.

"Don't worry, boy, I haven't needed my own mechanic in a while. Now, what was it that you were saying earlier?"

He actually heard me? It didn't matter, there wasn't a chance I was bringing it up, now. Not after he'd proven he was still just as immature as I'd remembered. There was no telling what kind of dangers he'd get us in if it really was just the two of us.

Maybe it would be better if it was just me.

"Nothing," I muttered. "I was just going to mention that it looked like we were nearing the school."

My uncle nodded in agreement. "Good, and I haven't seen any signs of the Turned yet. Or Blares. We should be in the clear for this supply run. The others will look at us like goddamn heroes this time around."

We turned through the last street of the neighborhood, opening out into a wide road that led toward the school. It was difficult to miss, surrounded by biohazard signs and banners marking the site as an evacuation zone. My eyes were drawn to the actual sign for the highschool itself, designed with its tiger mascot and all.

"Maybe we could forge you some kind of diploma, since you didn't graduate last year," my uncle joked. "If college is ever a thing again, I'm sure they'll accept the end of the world as a reason for not finishing highschool."

I blew air loudly from my nose. "Right."

We pulled into the parking lot, passing through parked convoys of military vehicles and personal cars. I eyed them warily. As my uncle weaved the truck through, both of us immediately looked over toward the shadow of someone, or something, darting just beyond the last cars.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.