Echo

Daniel would never admit it out loud, but Echo could tell he was scared by his uneven tone and the way his hand trembled in hers.

Though she'd tried to assure him by telling him to drive, Echo understood and accepted that they might not make it through the city alive. From what she'd been able to piece together, she'd almost died in Phoenix anyway, and the experience had been traumatic enough to repress her memories.

Her only hope in the worst case scenario if they were killed was that it would be quick.

As Daniel approached the city, Echo noticed with interest the many churches with tall, white spires—or were they steeples? Mormon churches just looked different, like mini temples compared to the classic evangelical image in her mind's eye.

The closer they got to Salt Lake City, the more the roadway condensed with stopped cars. Doors remained opened from people fleeing on foot, and most appeared untouched as if looters had decided the contents weren't worth the danger. Rust tarnished the frames, a coat of dust covered the interiors, and shattered glass reflected a myriad of colors on the sunlit road. In some places, weeds in the grass shoulders had begun to grow around the vehicles.

Within two miles, passage was made impossible by the pileup of cars and burnt debris, forcing them off at the nearest exit.

"I don't like this," Daniel said, glancing to his left and right as he drove along the shoulder around a stopped semi.

Tall skyscrapers congregated in a condensed block against a snow dusted mountain backdrop. The scene would have been picturesque were the silence not so eerie.

"I know," she said, equally alert for anything moving around them, "but we can dwell on our anxiety later. Let's just get through the city without stopping."

Daniel caressed her hand for a moment before turning left and then right to keep them on track. "You're such a boss queen," he said with a chuckle. "I feel like a—"

He inhaled sharply and clamped his mouth shut before clearing his throat. Then he released a breath and continued driving, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

"Do you know how to read a map?" he asked with an anxious inflection. "I'll need you to guide me through the city until we can get back to the main highway."

"Sure."

Taking the map from the visor, she studied it until she found their location. Something she found fascinating, along with a vague memory of Phoenix with the same system, was that Salt Lake City's roads were laid out in a grid.

While she navigated, Daniel flipped through the radio channels, most of which displayed static. The facility was officially out of broadcast range, leaving an open channel from a guy who called himself Z-Blade.

"Good morning, Utah! My name's Z-Blade, and I'm reaching you all through my modest home setup. So far, we're looking at sunny skies with a chance of zombies on the horizon."

Daniel rolled his eyes while Echo snorted.

"I think he has a good radio voice," she giggled. "It's very clear."

Seemingly unimpressed, Daniel shook his head and continued driving per Echo's instructions.

"According to reports from various survivors, it would be wise to avoid the I-15 whenever possible. The I-80, leading into Salt Lake City, remains impossible in both directions, and gangs have set up camps south of the city. Not much is known except they lay traps in the form of sending a child or woman for help before ambushing unsuspecting Good Samaritans."

Daniel and Echo shared a dark look as he muttered, "Good to know. Now how do we get through?"

Z-Blade continued his broadcast, oblivious to the silent listeners. "Last night, I picked up chatter from a government facility in Nevada. I always said there government had their hands in this apocalypse, and today is no different. They popped a man over the live mic before dispatching convoys to find a group of renegades. If y'all happen to be listening, give them hell. I must be the only man in Utah who didn't support that pumpkin before the world went to shit, and I wouldn't be surprised if the higher ups sanctioned the creation of the virus."

A chuckle filled the cab. "That guy is something else," Daniel laughed. "Still, he was mostly en pointe with the conspiracy, minus the president part. He was one of the first to go when the virus hit the East Coast."

Nothing—not even a vague flash—came to mind when Echo tried to recall the last election. "I feel like I should remember this," she remarked with a frown. "Was he well-liked?"

Of all the responses she'd expected, Daniel's hysterical laughter wasn't one of them. A solid thirty seconds passed before he caught his breath. "Liked is such a broad, relative term to describe that man, and it really depends on who you ask. It's safer to say he was controversial at best, and a raving nutcase at worst."

That didn't sound good.

Z-Blade cheerfully continued his updates before changing the tone. "Now that all the depressing stuff is out of the way, I'd like to lift our spirits a bit. With streaming gone along with mainstream electricity and technology, I've had to rely on generators and solar panels to keep this all running, but that's no reason not to share music from my granddad's vinyl collection! So let's have a listen to some old comfort music, shall we?"

By "old," the song turned out to be "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey, making Daniel choke. "I hate the young. This isn't that old!"

Echo grinned as Daniel turned up the radio anyway, singing along, very off-key.

The change was nice.

"You may want to keep your day job," she teased.

He stuck his tongue out at her before picking up the lyrics as if he hadn't just been called a terrible singer.

After a few songs, their pace slowed in a congested traffic stop where passage between abandoned vehicles was narrow. Some cars had been left overturned while others littered the intersection. Whatever carnage that had been present was now gone; likely picked clean by carrion birds.

"I don't like this," Daniel said, lowering the radio volume. "How far until we get through the city?"

Echo set the map on her lap and shrugged. "About forty minutes, give or take. It really depends on what we run into along the way."

Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, Daniel slowly maneuvered through the intersection and turned left before straightening the vehicle and moving around the debris. Metal squealed as the bumper grazed a small sedan, but he kept moving as if it were nothing more than a pothole.

"What are you doing?" Echo asked, glancing through the windshield, passenger window, and back glass for threats.

The rumbling engine attracted a small group of soapies from nearby buildings, but they didn't move fast enough to catch up. That didn't mean the truck couldn't be overwhelmed by sheer numbers if they didn't move fast enough.

"Did you notice the abandoned cars form a path to the left?" he noted, pointing his index finger to the road while maintaining his hold on the wheel.

Echo turned toward the back glass with a frown.

Indeed, upon closer inspection, the cars did seem prearranged to lead passing vehicles to the left, and Daniel had pushed through a narrow gap.

No sooner than he mentioned it, a loud crack against the windshield startled them both. A crack spidered in several directions from a focal star in the dotted upper middle section. Within that star was a bullet lodged into the glass, stuck inside the laminate keeping the windshield together.

Daniel swore and stepped on the gas. "Guess that answers my question. Keep your head down and hold on to something."

As Echo ducked, Daniel drove recklessly, jostling them back and forth like an old board game missing holding trays for the pieces.

More bullets sprayed the truck, taking out the quarter glass behind the driver's side window and showering the interior with small, rounded shards. With the panel gone, the sound of growls mixed with wind entered the vehicle.

While all this transpired, flashes of gory memories assaulted Echo's mind: a similar situation—at night in a desert—surrounded by zombies and broken glass. A stab of intense pain in her forearm, followed by the agony of an axe removing her limb.

Unclicking her seatbelt, Echo sank to the floor, curled her knees into her chest, and screamed into her legs as she covered her head with her good arm.

"It's okay, sweetie," Daniel called over the noise, grunting when the truck squealed like a tuna can being sliced down the middle. "We're almost through this block."

The truck picked up speed, slowing only when Daniel ran over something that sounded and felt suspiciously organic before revving up again.

The bullets became fewer and the road smoother after several minutes, but Echo didn't dare leave her spot on the floor.

"It's just looters by the looks of it," Daniel said as if he wasn't bothered by their dangerous predicament. "And not very good ones. They're probably survivors short on food and supplies."

"And how are they supposed to get through the zombies?" Echo asked between sobs.

"They were probably waiting for the zombies to pick us off before looting the vehicle. It would be the smartest way to conserve ammo."

That explanation didn't do anything to reassure Echo, but she trusted Daniel to do his best and keep them alive. Or at the very least, ride with her till they died. She couldn't ask for much else.

She didn't relax, not even when Daniel gently placed his hand over her head.

"We're already through the worst of it," he promised. "The gunshots came from the buildings at that intersection and the one ahead of it, but they've stopped."

Echo wanted to ask for how long, but as Daniel promised, no more bullets pierced the vehicle.

She remained hunkered in place, though, trembling as visions from the night she was bitten continued to play across her eyelids like a bad horror movie.

It wasn't until an indeterminate time later that the road became smooth again, and the truck moved at a steady speed.

Slowly, Echo pushed herself up again and climbed into her seat. They were already back on the freeway, with the zombies and looters long gone.

"How much further?" she asked quietly, finding the crumpled map on the floor and smoothing it over her lap.

Daniel didn't immediately answer as he rubbed her back with his free hand. Once her shaking subsided to occasional trembles, he stroked her hair once before taking the wheel with both hands again. "We should be there in about six hours. Salt Lake was the only major city in our path. We can take an alternate route the rest of the way."

Echo nodded, satisfied with his answer. That meant one or two more stops to refuel with the diesel they had still in the back, and they'd be home free at the bunker.

After buckling her seatbelt, she reached for Daniel with her left hand, squeezing tight when he took it. "I don't know if I should say thank you or I love you."

"I'll take both," he replied with a laugh as he pressed her knuckles to his mouth. "And when we get to that bunker, I'll make you dinner and a warm bed. Then I'll tell you how much I love you, too."

A small giggle bubbled inside Echo's chest. "Are you really trying to romance me at the end of the world?"

He shrugged and cast her a lopsided grin. "No time better than the present, right?"

That was good enough for Echo, who returned his smile.

Hiii!

Again, I'm not taking a public stance on politics, but those who know me well know how I feel. That said, this is a reminder the original story was started in 2018, so long before the craziness of these past two elections. If anyone is somehow offended by this; that's a you problem, considering how fantastically gay and diverse this story is.

Anyway, enough of all that.

'Don't Stop Believin'' was released in 1981, just a few years before I was thought of. It's definitely old, but as an 80s child, it really doesn't feel like that much time has passed. 

Fun fact: the back glass is never a back windshield/windscreen. The windshield is just that: a shield against wind, designed with laminated glass (two pieces of glass with laminate sandwiched in between). It's designed to keep objects out and you inside. Back glass is tempered glass designed to shatter into small rounded pieces. It's a safety measure to not only limit serious cuts, but also easier to break if your car is submerged (and never ever break a truck's back glass to rescue your keys locked inside your vehicle).

I could go on awhile about glass but I'll leave it here for now except that windshields also don't shatter unless something hits it with the force of a bullet, but that's a different issue. I used to work in insurance and notice these things in movies and stories. 🚍

With the direction changing, what do y'all think of Daniel? Do you want more chapters with these two on the road? Is there anything else you'd like me to satirically explore?

Let me know in the comments!