EPISODE 2 – James: The Road They Never Planned For
1062 Words
James tightened his grip on the steering wheel as Veronica’s truck disappeared down the road ahead of him. He tried to keep her tail lights in sight, tried to breathe normally, tried to convince himself everything was fine.
It wasn’t.
People didn’t panic like this over nothing.
He swallowed and pushed the accelerator a little harder.
The fuel gauge blinked dangerously.
“Seriously?” he muttered. Of course Dad left the truck half full. “Great timing, Pops.”
He pulled into the next fuel station he could find. The pumps were crowded. People yelling. People arguing. A woman crying while a man tried to drag her back into their car.
Something wasn’t right.
He filled the tank anyway. Fast. Heart pounding.
By the time he finished and pulled back onto the road, he couldn’t see Mom anymore.
Or Hazel.
Or Kinsley.
For the first time since this started… fear crawled into his chest.
Not panic.
Not hysteria.
Cold.
Sharp.
Focused.
He had to move.
He swung the truck toward Leanne’s house, horn blaring as he rolled into the yard.
The front door burst open.
“Come on!” he shouted. “Get in—now!”
Leanne grabbed Zariah’s wrist and sprinted.
They were halfway to the truck when a blue sports car screamed down the road like a bullet. It spun out of control, fishtailing straight into the yard.
“ZARIAH—MOVE!” Leanne shrieked, shoving her out of the way.
Zariah hit the ground.
Leanne dove.
The car tore past them, plowed into the front of the house with a skull-splitting crash.
“LEAVE IT!” James yelled. “We do not stop. We do not play hero today.”
Leanne’s voice shook. “What if they’re hurt?”
“They could also be insane! Or dangerous! Get in the truck. Now.”
They listened.
Because the world wasn’t acting normal anymore.
And whatever was happening…
they didn’t have time to bleed kindness.
They drove.
“Where’s Mom?” Leanne whispered.
“Already ahead of us,” James said, forcing steady confidence into his voice. “We’re meeting Dad at the shop.”
“What’s happening?” Zariah whispered.
“I don’t know.”
He hated how honest that sounded.
They pulled into Sylvia’s neighborhood.
James parked away from the house, heart thumping.
“Doors locked,” he ordered. “If something comes near you—do not think. Pull the trigger.”
Both girls stared at him.
“You’re leaving us with guns!?” Leanne squeaked.
“Congratulations,” James muttered. “You’re survivors now.”
He slipped into the shadows.
Mrs. Gray answered the door, scowling.
“You need to leave. Now. You are not allowed here.”
“Ma’am—this is an emergency. Please let me talk—”
“No.” She went to slam it, and for one split second James wondered if he should drag her outside with him.
But no.
He wouldn’t become a monster.
Fine.
He found Sylvia’s window instead.
She popped it open wide-eyed.
“James?!”
“Pack. Clothes. Shoes. NOW. Your brother too.”
Minutes passed.
Way too many.
Then bags came flying out the window.
One slammed into his head.
“OW! What the hell do you have in there!?”
“Ammo and handguns!” Sylvia whispered.
He blinked dumbfounded.
“Well are we going or are you just going to
stand there gawking?”
They ran.
They piled in.
Two more souls saved.
Two more people trusting him.
And he felt the pressure like a weight on his chest.
He had to get them there.
He had to be strong enough.
He had to be Corey’s son.
They hit YY Highway.
James finally let himself breathe.
Then the sound hit him.
Sirens.
Metal ripping.
Screaming.
Smoke thick and black swallowed the skyline ahead.
He turned the curve and his stomach dropped.
Cars stacked like dominoes.
Blood on pavement.
People running.
Some dragging others.
Some attacking others.
“This… isn’t… real…” Zariah whispered.
Leanne grabbed James’s arm. “Turn around. Turn around—TURN AROUND!”
He did.
Fast.
Gravel back-road.
Woods.
Silence swallowing chaos.
Breath in.
Breath out.
He didn’t let the truck slow until the woods broke into open gravel.
The machine shop.
Finally.
He parked.
No car.
No Mom.
No Dad.
“Where are they?” Leanne whispered.
“I don’t know,” James whispered back, and saying it out loud hurt.
He forced himself to think.
To breathe.
“Stay here. Lock the doors. If anybody comes near you and I’m not yelling your name…”
They nodded.
He didn’t need to finish.
He tried the CB.
Static.
He tried again.
Static.
He called their names into the empty air.
Nothing.
No footprints noticeable.
No abandoned supplies.
No sign of a struggle.
Which meant…
They left on purpose.
He scanned everything like Dad taught him.
Look for what DOESN’T belong.
Then he saw the paint.
White curves.
Symbols.
Language shaped in strength.
Ojibwe.
Corey didn’t just teach him the words.
He taught him the meaning behind using them.
James walked closer.
Heart pounding.
Voice shaking.
“Mshkikiwinini-ingod Zaaga’iganiing gegoo niibaw’an akiing…”
He choked out a laugh that was half a sob.
Leanne opened the truck window. “What does it mean?”
He pressed his hand over the paint like touching a lifeline.
“It means,” he said softly, steadying his voice,
“Son… hurry to the old hunting trail.”
Zariah frowned. “There are a million trails.”
James shook his head.
“Not ours.”
He remembered campfires.
Laughter.
Mud on boots.
Corey’s voice:
“Someday, if the world goes stupid… this is where we meet. Where we trust the land. Where we breathe.”
His throat burned.
“They’re alive,” James whispered. “They’re okay. Dad left this for me.”
“Do we go now?” Sylvia asked.
James looked at the sky.
Darkness bleeding in.
Dad’s rule echoed loudly.
Never travel blind.
Never travel tired.
Never travel at night.
He shook his head.
“No. We wait. First light we move.”
They nodded.
Because for the first time all day…
They had direction.
They had purpose.
They had hope.
And James wasn’t a scared kid anymore.
He was leading.
Because Corey believed in him.
And he refused to fail.
- Writer
