(song: "All We Do" - Oh Wonder)

I can smell the scent of burning rubber and plastic, it's so strong that I have to keep my nose covered by my hoodie. Embedded in the broken pavement on the highway are several large craters with meteorites the size of mattresses. The cracks against the asphalt make it look like a shatter clay mask.

     Serena and I make our way carefully over towards the highway. We try our best to take cover behind each vehicle, bush, or slab of upturned asphalt.

     She keeps one of her hands on my arm, and in the other, she holds the hose for me. "Wow, it was really bad here. Do you think it was like this in Fullerton?" she asks in a whisper.

     "I hope not. The idea of being stuck in Fullerton used to bring me down, but now I actually miss it. It is a simple town and the problems were always simple with easy solutions to fix them."

    "Yeah, I remember when I first moved there, I was really depressed about it. Fullerton seemed like such a dull, sleepy town. I'd give anything for dull and sleepy right now."

     We find a minivan that doesn't look damaged from the meteors or the fire. The luggage is still tied down to the roof and the side doors are wide open with a dirty baby blanket hanging down from one of the seats. It looks like they left all their belongings and ran in a hurry. I guess that's part of the chaos my father wanted to spare me from.

     I press a finger to my lips to let Serena know that it's time for us to be silent. We keep as low to the ground as we possibly can and I press my back against the warm, smooth metal. My fingers feel out the shape of the small door to the gas tank. Luckily it's one with a press-in button, so I'm able to get it to open with a tap. I gesture for the hose and get to work on siphoning the gas.

     I've never stolen gas before, but my father showed me how to do this once. He told me to not inhale the fumes and to suck the air into my mouth and blow it out to avoid getting it into my lungs. The hose slides in easily, I take a deep breath and force myself not to go into a coughing fit as I try to draw the fuel from the tank.

     Serena darts her head around to keep a lookout for the slightest sound or movement near us.

     The fumes reach their end and I can taste spicy fuel pouring into my mouth. I quickly spit it out like a poison and place the end of the hose into my canister. It pours slowly, but steadily.

     "All clear so far," Serena mutters very quietly and settles at my side.

     I extend my hand out to her seeking the warmth of her fingers touching mine. She shakes her head with a half-hearted smile and rejects my offer.

     "But we were just holding hands in the car?" I remind her.

     Serena clasps her hand over the top of mine and gives it a little sympathetic squeeze, then she releases it. "That's the thing about being impulsive, Logan—it's a fleeting moment. You said it yourself, we're a 'to-be-determined', and right now isn't the time to determine anything. Let's focus on getting to Texas."

     She's probably right, but selfishly, holding her hand makes me feel like I can handle anything.

     "Fine," I say flatly.

     I focus my attention off Serena and onto the canister, mostly because I don't want her to see how much her words affect me. The fuel hasn't filled it up yet, but it's about halfway there.

     Serena squeezes my arm, hard. I'm really not in the mood to explain to her why I'm bothered.

     "Look, I'm not mad, I'm just—" I don't get to finish talking because Serena covers her hand over my mouth.

     Her eyes look frightened like a mouse avoiding a cat. She motions with her finger ahead to where a group of five men with bats, golf clubs search the nearby vehicles.  They could be scavenging for food to bring back to their stranded families, in that case, they'd be harmless. But my father had also warned me to not trust anyone, and after the run-in with the cow farmer, I think it's better to assume the worst.

     One of the men has a large belly and muscular arms with a long beard. He looks like a weight-lifting Santa Clause. The other three are lanky and tall with rough faces that look like they replaced drinking water with whiskey instead. Santa acts like the leader of the group and directs them on which cars to search.

     "Check the glove compartments for money or keys. One of these undamaged cars has to have a spare key," Santa commands.

     A skinny man with a thick, blonde mustache and biker bandana looks at Santa with confusion. "But, they're all locked in like a sardine. How are we gonna move 'em?"

     Santa steps up to skinny and grabs a fist full of his shirt. His teeth are clenched and Santa drags up the man so close that he practically spits in the guy's face. "We're not going to walk all the way to Mexico idiot. We need a car."

     These guys are not harmless, they are taking advantage of the chaos.

     "There's a car that's not locked in or damaged," another guy with sunglasses says. He points at our car off in the distance behind the bushes.

     I grab up the canister and frantically start trying to withdraw the hose from the tank as quickly and quietly as possible. Half-a-can will have to do. There's no time for being stealthy either, Santa and his minions already start to walk in the direction of my car.

     "On three we run as fast as we can and don't stop until we're in the car," I hastily warn Serena.

     She just responds with a nod.

     I take a hold of her wrist to ensure that we don't lose one another.

     "One . . . " I tense my muscles.

     "Two . . . " I stand to my feet and firmly plant my toes in a launching position.

     "THREE!" I take off running.

     I can hear the sound of my own breathing as my legs take flight. Our cover is blown and the five men shout and yell out.

     "HEY! The kids have the keys, go after them!" Santa yells.

     Four of the five begin to run after us. They're older, but they're also taller than us. Their long legs give them a running advantage. I just hope our youth makes us faster. Serena keeps pace with me, but after a few seconds, it feels like I'm dragging her more than running alongside her. She can't keep up with me, but I can't slow down either.

     The guy with the blonde mustache is gaining momentum behind us. If he keeps at that speed he'll eventually catch up with us. I could be faster if I let go of Serena's hand. Then I could get in the car and drive towards her for a daring escape. But that meant leaving Serena to potentially be captured by the men and who knows how that scenario would end.

     I have to think fast.

     I lift the can of gasoline to my lips and fill my mouth with it and try not to choke on liquid and fumes as it spills down my face. I lowered my strides down to match Serena's so that we can keep together. The car is closer, we're almost there, but so is the guy behind us.

     The car is about 200 feet away, so close, but it may as well be the moon. I can hear the footsteps move close enough for the mustache-man to touch Serena. I turn around sharply and halt our steps altogether. His fingers reach out for her like the talons of a hawk. I wait until I have a clear view of his vile face and then I spit all of the gasoline right into his eyes.

     He screams like it's acid. I tug Serena's hand and take advantage of every spare second that we earned. Serena takes hold of the can and hose from me while I use shaky fingers to scramble for the keys in my pocket. I finally get the door open and we both climb in frantically.

     The doors are shut and locked. Ahead of us, the other three men are almost at the car. They could easily overwhelm us with their bats and clubs before we could build enough speed to get away from them. Everything depends on how fast I can get the engine started.

     My hands are still uncontrollable. I struggle just to get the keys in the ignition to turn it on.

     Serena puts her hand on my arm and her eyes stare at me with firm confidence. "You got this, Logan."

     I inhale, then exhale and turn the car on. The engine hums and I set the gear into reverse and floor it. Dried grass is unearthed and sputters into the air. I use the rear-view mirror to guide my direction as I avoid street signs and guard rails. The men throw their melee weapons at us and one manages to hit the hood of my car before springing off it. I keep my foot down on the gas until Santa, Mustache, and Sunglasses look like small, angry dots.

     Then, I swerve the car around at 180-degrees until I am able to put the gears into drive.

     The both of us breathe hard and look at one another.

     We knew that we weren't safe from the sky, but now, we aren't safe from anything.