Chapter 3: Stacy & Megan
927 Words
A young woman cried out, "Help me!"
Her voice cracked with terror as the car screeched to a stop. Jaydon shot her a cold glare, his expression hard and unreadable.
"Move," he said flatly.
But she didn't move. She stood frozen in the headlights, trembling. Her eyes were wide with desperation, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Please," she begged. "Help me."
Jaydon's jaw tightened.
"If you don't move," he said coldly, "I'll run you over."
The young woman met his gaze.
"Then do it," she whispered.
Jaydon let out a sharp breath and revved the engine.
The roar shattered the silence.
"Jaydon," I said, staring at him. "We can't just run her over."
He glanced at me.
"Watch me."
Before he could press the gas pedal, a small voice cried out.
"No!"
A little girl ran into view and wrapped her arms around the woman's legs. Jaydon froze. For a moment, nobody spoke. The child's terrified eyes met his through the windshield. Finally, he sighed and released the pedal.
"Get in."
The woman didn't hesitate. She hurried into the car, clutching the little girl against her chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I turned toward them.
"Were either of you bitten?"
The woman shook her head immediately.
"No."
I looked at the child.
"Not even a scratch?"
The little girl shook her head too.
Relieved, I smiled faintly.
"Good."
As night fell, we pulled over to rest. The roads were becoming harder to navigate in the dark, and driving with the headlights on for too long risked attracting unwanted attention.
"I never got your names," I said after a while.
The woman brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm Stacy."
She looked down at the little girl sleeping beside her.
"And this is Megan. My daughter."
A sad smile touched her lips. I pointed toward myself.
"I'm Sara."
Then I pointed at the driver's seat.
"And that's Jaydon."
He simply grunted in response. Not long afterward, we all drifted off to sleep. Everyone except Jaydon. He remained awake behind the wheel, staring into the darkness beyond the windshield. When morning came, I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window.
Then
THUD!
An infected woman slammed against the car, jolting us awake.
Megan screamed.
Stacy immediately pulled her daughter into her arms. The creature outside dragged one leg behind her as though it were broken. Blood covered her clothes. It dripped from her mouth and stained her chin. Her skin was pale, peeling, and rotten. Every ragged breath fogged the glass. She hissed and snarled like a wild animal.
Her face was a map of wounds, deep cuts, torn flesh, and a pair of milky-white eyes sunken into dark circles. I stared at her.
Frozen.
She looked like she'd been dead for Months. Stacy went pale.
"You've seen one before?" I asked.
She swallowed hard.
"Not exactly."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Stacy kept staring at the infected woman outside.
"Tee-Town was locked down two months ago."
The car fell silent.
"What?" I asked.
"My sister lived there," Stacy said quietly. "She called me before the phones stopped working."
Megan buried her face against her mother's shoulder.
"They said it was some kind of virus. The government blocked people from leaving the city."
A chill ran down my spine.
"And now it's here," I whispered.
Stacy nodded.
"And whatever this is..." Her voice trembled. "It's gotten worse."
Jaydon started the engine.
The infected immediately began clawing at the car again.
"Story time is over," he said. "Let's go."
An hour later, hunger finally caught up with us. Up ahead, I spotted a gas station.
"Let's stop there."
Jaydon nodded and carefully pulled into the parking lot. We scanned the area.
No infected.
At least none that we could see.
"Megan, stay in the car," Stacy said gently.
"If you see anyone coming, human or infected, honk the horn, okay?"
Megan nodded bravely.
We stepped outside. The place was a wreck. The gas station sign, still faintly glowing, showed prices coated in grime. Trash litter all around us, gum wrappers, crumpled napkins, cigarette butts. Empty cans rolled softly in the breeze. The air smelled faintly of gasoline mixed with something rotten.
Inside was worse. Shelves were toppled, products scattered across the floor. The smell of decay hung thick—like spoiled meat and old fish. The cash register was pried open, its drawer empty. Somewhere, a faint tick-tick-tick echoed, steady and rhythmic.
“Grab what you can,” Jaydon ordered. His tone was low and urgent. “We’re not staying long.”
We moved quickly, stuffing food and water into bags.
The air felt heavy.
The silence was worse.
Every creak of the building made me flinch.
Then Stacy screamed.
A car horn blared outside.
Once. Twice. Three times. Sharp.
Frantic.
Desperate.
My heart dropped.
"Megan!" Stacy cried.
We abandoned everything and ran.
The moment we burst through the gas station doors, we froze.
The car was surrounded.
At least a dozen infected clawed at the windows.
Their rotting hands slammed against the glass.
Blood smeared across the doors.
Megan sat in the back seat, crying hysterically.
One infected had climbed onto the hood.
Another was smashing its head repeatedly against the driver's side window.
The glass began to crack.
A jagged line spread across the surface.
"MOMMY!" Megan screamed.
The sound sent every infected into a frenzy.
The crack widened.
Then widened again.
Jaydon's face darkened.
Without a word, he tightened his grip on the basketball bat he found inside the gastation.
And charged.
- Writer
