The Survivor Chronicles (Parts 1-24) by Erica Stevens

Author:Erica Stevens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, scifi, suspense, adventure, mystery, action, animals, death, chaos, apocalyptic, survivors, natural disaster, unexplained phenomena

Carl

Somewhere in Mass.

He was getting tired of driving like a lunatic. It made his aching back ache even more and set his teeth on edge. He supposed it was better than being engulfed by a giant ball of flame and bar-b-qued alive, but he still wished they could catch a break. Wished they could have one hour where things were not completely insane, and he could actually take the time to see where he was going instead of just hoping that they didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere, or plummeting over the side of one of the new craters.

John was not helping, his sharp intakes of breath, his slamming of his hand on the dashboard, and his constant chatter to do this and don’t do that were driving Carl insane. He wanted to scream at the kid, but it wasn’t John’s fault, he’d be backseat driving too if the roles were reversed.

“Left!” John shouted as he bounced his hand off the dashboard. “Right!” Carl had a flash of the movie Twister, and wondered if at some point in time they would see a cow flying past. He honestly would not have been in the least bit surprised. “Fence! Fence! Fence!”

He could see the fence; it didn’t mean the truck turned on a freaking dime though. In fact, it most certainly did not. The right front fender clipped part of a pole as he turned the wheel hard. The girl let out a small cry of fear as she grabbed the handle over her head. John was thrown up against her, they were pinned to the door as the tires skidded and the wheels sought traction. Something screamed, or hopefully someone, he didn’t want to think it was the truck that had made that noise.

It wouldn’t be good for any of them if it was.

Carl sprayed some washer fluid; he turned the wipers on in an attempt to get rid of the dirt and mud that had pelted the windshield. He leaned forward, peering through the smears that now streaked his line of vision. He strained to see the field he had driven across in an attempt to outrun the fast moving flames. He drove parallel to the fence, searching for an opening, praying for some way through the wooden rails. He’d run it over if he had to, but he was hoping to avoid that move for fear of hurting the truck. The last thing they needed was a hole in the radiator.

“There! There!” the girl cried, pointing toward a metal gate in the middle of all the wood. Relief filled Carl; he swung the truck hard toward the gate and threw it into park far more sharply than he normally would have. The girl was lurching out of the truck before he could open his door.

He was still five feet from her, but she already had the chain deftly unwound and the gate thrust open. “Come on! Hurry!” she yelled to him.

“She told you,” John said laughingly.

Carl scowled at him as he ran back to the truck and drove it eagerly forward.

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