the maw

on the road again

episode one - part two

august 19th, 2007

the angeles crest highway

14:00pm

"so... where to?"

those are the first words we've said to each other after witnessing the horrors of outer los angeles.

it seems the world's descended into hell, and every law is null and void. every single image that flashes through my mind makes a new knot in my throat, but the only thing i can truly feel other than that crippling nausea is how glad i am that there are no windows in the back of the van.

there's a sunroof, but they can't have seen too much through that. i'm so relieved they were spared of the trauma of the outside world.

people were eating each other. tearing each other from limb to limb, bone to bone, vein to vein. it was the single most horrifying thing i have ever seen in my entire life.

they were all rotten, rotting or rotted. gray, famished and wide-eyed like cannibalistic mannequins.

i could hear their howls through the shut windows.

those words that sofia and stephanie said - they weren't just one-offs. those 'people', in-between gnashing their teeth and stuffing their hollow bodies with intestines, were murmuring their own unique phrases.

some were screaming. some sounded tortured, as if they were crying. however, not a single tear sprang from their pinpoint, ghostly eyes, blank like they'd been painted on.

these things aren't people. all they seem to do is stare, eat, and repeat the same thing over and over.

they're all kinds of sizes - tall and hunched over, short and bent back as if they're watching the sky, fat, but slowly deflating like tires, but most commonly, they're emaciated. i saw a few that were riddled with dying muscles, but not many.

i don't think anyone was alive out there.

"anywhere else." nate's too stunned to think straight. the sourest, most sarcastic man, who always has so much to say, can barely speak.

"...this can't be real." i mutter, fingering the zipper on my handbag. if i have a cigarette, this might all fade away with the clouds of smoke.

"at least we have a car." he's somehow seeing the best in this situation, which is surprising for a guy like him. he pauses, staring at the road like it'll magically disappear.

"yeah, we can make it. i won't let us not. make it." i hope i sound confident. i feel the opposite, but i hope i can make everyone else feel a little better. "i mean, it could be worse, right?"

"don't do that. this isn't time for that, leah, we have to make some kinda plan." he won't listen to me trying to lift his spirits, because he's just not that kind of guy. he's never been that guy.

"what plan? seriously, what plan do you have, almighty braniac? what could possibly get us out of this!" i'm going to throw up. this is everything a person's life shouldn't be. no one deserves this, no one should have to live through this.

"i mean, we got out of the city alright, didn't we? look, we gotta work out some kinda way to tell the kids, and we need to find somewhere to go." at least he's somewhat rational, and he can sort of think. that makes one of us.

"okay. well, where should we go?" i hug my knees to my chest, as i stare at the large, beige hills crawling past us.

"...how the f**k should i know? you're the one with the map." he's such an i***t, he just barrelled us into his van and he didn't even think about where the hell we were supposed to go.

"what map? you didn't give me a map! i don't have one, i thought you knew where we were going!" i'm about to start freaking out, because my siblings are in the back, and if anything happens to them i will kill someone/something.

"why would i know where we're going! i saw living dead people, i thought hey, what the f**k, and then bennett called me, and now i have your entire family in my van!" he shouts, still concentrating on the road.

"yeah, but, y'know! shut up! it's not like it's a bad thing that you're helping out your neighbors, i mean, we've been helping you out for years! i mean, remember when your mom got arrested, and we-" i'm just getting purely angry, because that's how riled up he gets me. just the sound of his voice gets me pissed off.

"stood outside and watched, like everyone else? yeah, i remember that! why should i help you guys?" is he seriously questioning why he should help us?

"what, why should you help a bunch of defenseless kids? i don't think you need a reason to do that!" i don't think my hands have ever shaken this much, or this hard.

"no, no, i should've stopped at you! why should i help you!" he shoots me a glare when the van reaches a straight point, with no bumps or curves.

"because those kids are mine! i'm all they have left! their foster mom is dead, their sister is dead, and they don't have any parents!" they don't know it yet, but they only have me left. they'll soon realize that neither sofia or stephanie is here with then.

"well you should..." his anger dies down, as does his voice. i think he's processing what i just said. "...what?"

"yeah. i was cleaning a couple hours ago, and sofia came down the stairs, and she was one of those things. stephanie followed, sofia ate her throat. i... i had to lock them in the backyard." it stings my chest to even think about what i did. it feels like someone's sitting on me.

"oh my god. you're sure? they're dead?" even though he didn't see them get in his car or get out of the house at any given point, he's making me confirm it. asshole.

"yes, i'm sure, nate. i watched it happen, i couldn't- i froze, and i couldn't do anything." it feels like it's happening all over again. it was so fast, i didn't even have time to think.

now he's not talking, the only noise in the hot, august air is the hum of the car. the road is strangely deserted, i thought there'd be more people trying to get out.

i don't think they were given a chance.

nate's still watching the road, which is good, because he's driving. i just don't like it because i now have nothing to look at but his stupid face.

his eyes are the color of withered tree trunks, like old, weathered leather, or charred toffee. warm, speckled with darkness, just like the rest of his face. his skin is tanned; he has that kind of color to him that farm-hands get after spending a lot of time out on the fields.

his mouth tugs down, in the sort of disappointed frown you'd see on an old man. his cheek bones are carved into his face like a wood sculpture, along with his fine-cut jaw and nose. i don't know what it is, but every feature on his face gives him the look of permanent irritation. even his dark eyebrows are constantly knitted together.

when my eyes flit to his hair, he looks at me.

"are you staring at me?" he doesn't look uncomfortable in the slightest. he looks like he's pissed off, as usual.

"...yeah. not much else to look at." i mean, there's a beautiful view outside that i could easily watch instead, but i'd rather watch him. he annoys me, i want to know why.

"okay? stop it. it's weird, i don't like it." he just looks... crabby.

"asshole." i shrink into my seat and cross my arms, staring at the dashboard. nothing happens to it, but it's something to look at, i guess.

"what? i'm an asshole 'cause i don't want you staring at me? wha- what are you, twelve?" there he goes, talking to me like i'm stupid again. i don't think he's ever been nice to me.

"no! i'm just bored. and you're an asshole in general, not just now." i raise a finger at him, like i'm his mother.

he just glares at me, and keeps driving, as i redirect my focus to the window.

i'm not really watching it. i'm, well... i'm watching his reflection. there really is nothing more interesting to look at, and i'm not about to obey his stupid little rules.

when he thinks i'm not looking, he slips a cd in, and some stupid band starts playing. probably guns 'n roses, he never stops listening to that s**t, it's mind-numbing.

as he hums along to whatever song is playing, i think to myself. how am i going to tell the kids about this?

'hey, guys, guess what? we're not on a road trip, we're running away from what can only be described as an invasion of the living dead!'

i don't think that would work, no. that might be a little on-the-nose. maybe i should try a softer approach, like not telling them, and sheltering them until the military sweeps all these teeth-gnashers up, and we can go home.

there's really not much to call them, other than teeth-gnashers. maybe... dead guys, or something. that's what they are.

i kick my feet up on the dashboard, to make myself a little more comfortable so i can think better about how i can avoid telling the kids about the gnashers.

"get your feet off the dash." he grabs my knee, and pulls it back, so i retreat my legs to the seat like a normal person.

"y'know, you should think about being nicer to me." i honestly don't know how i'm going to keep my will to live if he stays being this much of an asshead.

"oh, really? why?" he says this like i'm just plain stupid for speaking in the first place.

"because... there aren't gonna be many girls our age left. i might be all you got, and i'm not gonna have s*x with you if you're a d**k to me." i don't want to have s*x with him in the slightest, i'm just trying to get him to be nice to me.

"i'd rather let the earth wither up and die with those monsters than have s*x with you." he's so unbothered by that, which definitely bothers the s**t out of me.

"yeah, sure. like you wouldn't pay to see me take my shirt off." i'm being strangely cocky for someone who also doesn't have many options other than nate.

"okay. so, what i'm getting from this is that you wanna have s*x with me." he's so logical it makes me mad, i could just strangle him right now.

"what! no, nate, jesus! i don't want to have s*x with you, i'm just saying, i won't have s*x with you if you're not nice to me!" i'll never let him win - i think it would actually cripple me mentally and physically if he won anything over me.

"...you think i want to have s*x with you?" he raises an eyebrow, and now i think he's just too dense to understand what i mean. then i realize he's a man.

"no! it's a hypothetical! it is a scenario!" i think the kids might be able to hear me, but i don't care. as long as i'm right, this is going to be fine.

"okay." he says, as we finally start to slope downwards, on to flat land. it's a relief, we've been driving in the hills for so long they've all started to look the same. "so, just to get this straight, you don't want to sleep with me?"

"not in the slightest, no." even if he was the last man on earth, i don't think i'd sleep with him. i think i'd rather die.

"that's kinda rude, i mean, victoria didn't say the same." how dare he bring up my ex-best friend?

"hey! no! no, you can't use that, that doesn't count." i'm uncomfortably close to smoking right now, which would put everything i've built up against him at risk.

"why not!" he's always been so proud of sleeping with her. i'm not sure why, and that annoys me more than most things he does.

"'cause you broke her heart, man! she liked you." my voice grows weak, because of the memory of her. how she dumped our whole friendship down the drain, just to chase the hopeless idea of him that he'd never fulfill.

"so what? sounds like a her problem, honestly." he shrugs like this means nothing to either of us, when i know he feels bad.

"...god, f**k you, nate." i make glaring eye contact with the side of his head, almost praying that we can start arguing about something stupid and petty, like we were before.

"sorry, it's just the truth. i didn't make her fall in love with me, she just did." he's never felt love, probably, so it's natural that he's such an asshole about this.

"still, you lead her on. she thought you actually loved her back, but you didn't." i'm sick of sugar-coating it. he lead her on.

"i mean, i liked her. kinda. like, i liked her enough to have s*x with her, so that's something." something must've happened to him when he was younger, something that broke his heart, to make him this dense about love.

"have you ever even been in love? she wanted to marry you, not just have s*x with you." maybe i can knock some sense into him, now that the world's ending.

"i don't care what she wanted, it wasn't serious. i don't care if she thought it was." his jaw tenses after he says this, like he knows he's said the wrong thing, but he can't take it back. to repeat his words, i don't care what he wants to take back.

i'll just ignore him, and try to listen to whatever guns 'n roses drivel is blasting out of the speakers.

every time i conjure up a thought that isn't about my (probably dead) broken-hearted friend, the torrid image of the city streets swarmed with the true faces of death takes over, and my chest locks up.

my brain is full of relentless corpses, laid out in swathes of gray, black and red, writhing in their own sick version of living. their brains pulse in their thin, mushy skulls, bright scarlet like crushed pomegranates under parchment paper. they watch me with their bleak, bloodshot eyes, smooth and shiny like eggshells.

my movements are calculations to them. my every thought is nothing, all i am is a target, something to hollow out and kill.

the organs that pump blood through me and keep me alive are just capsules of sweet lively nectar for their dried up bodies to consume, just a fresh hit of cannibalistic heroin before they move on to the next bloated blood buffet.

these morbid, hallowing thoughts are only going to drive me crazy. i'll just talk to the only thing more maddening in this world than walking, talking, chewing corpses.

"never said i haven't been in love, by the way." oh, he couldn't have said anything less interesting to me than that, but i don't want to think anymore.

"alright, i'll bite. who were you in love with?" i roll my head over to face him, and his unnaturally un-grumpy face.

"as if i'm gonna tell you, leah." he has this weird little half-smile on his face, like he finds something mildly funny, and it's messing with my head. i don't see him smile that often, it's a spin-out.

"why not! we have to get along now, so we might as well start here." i don't know why i'm prompting him, i don't care who he loved. all i know is that it was probably a long time ago, and it scarred him into becoming the world's most irreparable player.

"alright, fine. i'm not gonna tell you her name, 'cause you were friends with her. we played truth or dare in middle school, and she kissed me, and i was in love with her for, like, years. i gave up, 'cause it was never going to happen." the brief mention of middle school throws me back into a pit of memories.

it brings back the taste of watery fruit punch, the smell of newly-born teenagers and their mall kiosk perfumes, the sound of songs that would bury themselves in the pits of our minds for years to come. squeaky shoes, awkward cheek-kisses and teased hair floods back to my head like a rush of adrenalized blood.

"oh, my god. was it lizzy?" we were best friends for so long, until her family packed up and moved to nebraska. i get why they left.

"...fine. yeah, it was lizzy." he admits this with a tender smile on his face, something i don't think i've ever seen in any kind of light like this. the sun's rays play off of his tanned skin like they would on shards of glass, and he looks... good.

"huh. wow. i never thought you liked lizzy, let alone loved her. i'm pretty sure she was a lesbo, so you made the right choice, i guess." i remember almost nothing about her, except for that.

"yeah, uh, she wasn't into me at all. i think she would've dated you before me, to be honest." that wry chuckle he lets out doesn't help at all, and i think there must be something in the air. maybe some kind of spore from those monsters that seeps into your head, and warps your eyesight.

"probably." why am i laughing? i don't think he's funny at all.

"see, you're wrong. we can get along." there it is, that's why i hate him - he always has to be right in some way. it's the most annoying thing in the entire world.

"no, we can't. well, okay, we have to, but i'm not happy about it. you got that?" i don't think anyone would get that, i'm just really confused right now. i'm not about to talk about it, though.

"...not really." i can see his eyebrows furrow again in the rearview mirror, which is good. slightly pissed off should be the default for him, happy isn't good. happy is not what i want.

"good. you don't need to get it." at this point, even i'm confused, but as long as i have the upper hand, i'm okay with it.

"okay, anyway," he shoots me a strange side-eyed look, and keeps talking. "so, i've been thinking. stephanie and sofia are gone, so, y'know, who's gonna take care of the kids?"

"...us. obviously. we're adults now, we need to take care of them." i would rather cut my arm off than abandon those kids, i mean, they're not just my sibilings anymore. they're my kids.

"yeah, no. i'm not really good with kids." he's got to be joking.

"i don't really think that matters right now, to be honest. as long as you're there, and you can protect them from those things, you'll be golden." i just want him to stick around, because i know i can't do this alone.

"i'm not a babysitter, i don't want to." he just sounds like a child now, which is ironic. i guess he can't deal with kids because they think the same way as him.

"you're going to have to have some kind of responsibility for them, i mean, at least protect them. you said you can shoot a gun, that's pretty good, isn't it?" i'm trying so hard to sway him that it's denting my pride.

"okay. yeah, sure, i can do that. i can protect you guys, i've been protecting you for years." he drops this as if it's not supposed to mean anything, but it definitely does.

"what? how? you haven't done s**t for me, all you do is glare at me and prank me." it's genuinely been torture being his neighbor for this years.

"you kidding me? you remember that guy, kevin? in the 9th grade?" to be honest, that name doesn't bring anything to mind.

"...not at all." i'm not sure what he's trying to prove, because he's always been a d**k to me, so i don't know why he's trying to act like he's the angel gabriel.

"what! he used to follow you around like a dog, how do you not remember that?" he's smiling again. i hate it.

"i don't know, but what did you do to him? you gotta tell me now." i'm smiling too, which is humiliating. at least we have this empty seat between us, so that's something.

"i caught him try'na sneak into your house, so i beat him up and took his money!" he's oddly excited about beating up some kid when we were 14.

"what! jesus, nate, why'd you do that? i didn't even know the guy, you're insane." i genuinely do think he's crazy, in some way - i don't like him at all, but that doesn't affect my decision.

"i'm not insane! i just didn't like that guy. he always followed you everywhere, and he tried to break into your house. he was such a pervert." he makes a point, however, i'll never admit that it's a good one.

"i thought you hated me, why would you do that?" i don't even remember this, why am i playing along to his weird little memory?

"i don't hate you." now, if i said earlier that a bomb had been dropped, i don't think i meant it quite as literally as i do now. this is true disillusion. i've been angry at an assumption i made all too fast, and it definitely bit me in the ass.

"hold on," i need a moment to process this, because i don't understand what's going on right now. "what? you don't hate me? i thought you hated me this whole time!"

"when did i ever say that to you?" his eyebrow is raised as if anything is funny, or confusing at all, and it stops everything for me.

"i- i mean, i don't know, it was just, like, it was always a thing! we hated each other, that was our whole relationship. i hated you, you didn't hate me?" this was an entire, huge thing between us, i have no idea what's happening.

"no, i never hated you. i kinda liked you, i thought you were alright." he must be getting a sick kick out of this. first the world turns upside down, and now this?

"why did you prank me so much! and why would you always ignore me!" this doesn't match up with anything i've ever known about him, it's just simply alien to me.

"i never ignored you, you ignored me! i just kinda gave up, i knew you were never gonna like me, so i stopped trying!" that sounds strangely sad, now i feel kind of bad for him.

"oh. right." when i look at him, i want to try and cheer him up, or pat him on the back or something. i feel bad. "sorry, i guess. i didn't know."

"at least you know now, and you can stop being a bitch." wow, nevermind, i don't think i'm sad anymore, i'm just going to go back to hating us.

"hey, just because you hate me doesn't mean i don't hate you." i'm not letting the double negative trip me up, i know exactly what i mean, and i'm pretty sure he's recieving my glare's spiteful message.

"...what?" i don't think it got through to him as clearly as i wanted it to.

"i still hate you. even if you don't hate me." i explain it to him like i would a first-grader, keeping my eyes trained on him as if he'll slip away if i don't.

"oh. sure, i guess. you can do that if you want." he just shrugs, in this muted acceptance of my feelings towards him. i don't think i've ever seen anyone just... accept that someone hates them. i guess he just doesn't care what i think.

"yeah, i will. asshole." as i bask in the harsh awkwardness of my declaration, my eyes wander, searching the fields beside the road.

in the distance, a small building catches my eye. it isn't much, but it's isolated from all society, and i doubt any gnashers have come this far.

i watch a woman stagger out from behind the building, clutching her shoulder with one hand, and waving out to us with the other. she has the grace of someone still human, properly poised, in control of her limbs.