Gray ash exploded beneath the heels of my worn black boots. It was the consistency of powdered snow, the kind snow bunnies flock to the mountain for. It clung to the faded leather and remained caked in between the rubber treads.

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining fresh crisp air, blinding snow, and tall pine trees cutting a path through the side of a mountain. The vision vanished on my next breath as I inhaled the smoky remains of a main-street cafe.

Singed curtains fluttered gently through broken glass windows and dishes lay scattered across the black and white tiled floor. I had to step out into the street to avoid the toppled wrought iron cafe tables.

I followed the double yellow line unhindered by the nonexistent afternoon rush hour traffic. Abandoned cars littered the pavement, their metal husks roasting in the hazy sun.

The streets were silent. The kind of quiet that creeps into your bones and makes you wonder if you are the last person on earth. I hadn't seen anyone in days, so it was entirely possible.

A green pickup truck rested at an angle in the roadway. The driver side door stood open revealing the inside of the cab. I climbed inside, brushing shards of broken glass from the front seat. I opened the glove box and pulled out the owners manual and tossed it over my shoulder. I rifled through a pile of paper napkins, salt and pepper packets, and loose straws. It was obvious the owner of the truck liked fast food. Not finding anything important, I ran my hands under the seat. My fingers touched the warm metal of long forgotten nickels and dimes until my hand closed around a plastic bottle.

Jackpot.

I shook the bottle, relishing in the quiet sound of liquid sloshing from one end to the other. I greedily untwisted the cap and drank from the open end. Warm water trickled down my parched throat. I sat there with the bottle turned upside down while the last drops of water hit my tongue.

Then I heard a noise.

I froze. Tension snaked through my body. My mind refused to accept what my ears had already confirmed. I wasn't alone.

I inched out of the truck and slowly reached for the knife strapped to my cargo pants. The six-inch blade had once rested in my kitchen drawer. I had a thing for late night shopping and this blade was guaranteed to stay sharp or my money back. It was scary to think I was risking my life on three am infomercial promises.

Heavy footsteps sounded to my left and I looked in their direction. The figure stopped a car's length from me. Dried blood coated his arms and a fierce snarl formed on his scarred face. 

It was one of them. One of the dead that had risen. 

His mouth twisted and his lips tried to form some semblance of words. The gargled sound sent shivers down my spine and my hand shook as I lifted my knife.

"Stay back!" 

He smiled then, or at least what his mangled lips would call a smile. The emotion was a deep contrast to his vacant eyes. He took a lurching step closer and I stumbled backward into the pickup. Sweat made the knife in my hand slippery and I tightened my grip. I used my empty hand to feel behind me, searching for another weapon. My fingers worked quickly, delving between the seat. I prayed for a metal bar, or something solid. I pulled out a lighter, not exactly the fearsome weapon I'd been hoping for.

I moved away from the door of the truck and waved the knife. The creature wasn't swayed and he prepared to strike. I twisted in a panic, starting to run. Adrenaline pumped through my system. I rounded the truck bed and stopped. My eyes caught on a red gas can sitting in the back. I lunged for it and my hands slid over the dirty metal of the truck bed. I lifted the can, relieved to find it half full. I removed the cap and the smell of gas drifted to my nose. It was heavenly.

With the can in my arms, I turned, using my momentum to throw the gas on the advancing creature. It ran down his body in brown wet streaks. He pushed forward, undaunted by the wall of smelly liquid.

I dodged out of the way and he landed against the truck. A roar of rage filled the air. I backed away, clutching the lighter and running my thumb over the metal wheel. A flame flickered to life and for a second I watched it waver in the breeze. More creatures would come. They rarely traveled alone and I needed to be long gone before they did.

I tossed the lighter and as it flew through the air I could have sworn time slowed to a crawl. Until the flame hit its target and ignited. The creature fell to the pavement quickly becoming engulfed in flames. 

The smell became intolerable. I stayed only long enough to confirm that he wasn't getting up. My stomach felt sick and my head was dizzy as fear slowly left my system. I reattached my knife to my pants and stepped away from the truck. I still had further to go.

I walked until I came to the corner of a four-way intersection. A metal sign swung in the wind hanging at an odd angle. I pulled a folded letter from my pocket and smoothed out the creases. My brother's sloppy handwriting scrawled across the page.

                                      Meet me at the military compound in Ashland. There's a cure.

Refolding the letter, I glanced at the hanging sign. It read: Ashland 5 miles.

Only five more miles to go.