We all crowded into thebuilding corner, staying safe from whatever the hell was out there.We just need to be careful until we find a vehicle somewhere here.The dim interior offered a brief respite from the harsh daylightoutside. Our footsteps echoed through the empty halls as we exploredthe abandoned structure. The air hung heavy with tension, theuncertainty of our surroundings weighing on us.
As we moved deeper into the building, a flickerof hope sparked within us. In a storage room cluttered with forgottensupplies, my eyes landed on a dusty canister of fuel. "Thiscould be our ticket out of here," I exclaimed, relief washingover me. Sam inspected the canister, confirming it was still usable.My mother and Sara exchanged knowing glances, understanding thesignificance of this discovery.
Our elation, however, was short-lived as distantgrowls grew louder, signaling the approaching threat outside.Frantically, we began searching for a vehicle large enough toaccommodate all of us. The urgency in the air was palpable as weraced against time. My heart pounded in my chest as we scoured thedesolate streets for a suitable means of escape. The distant growlstransformed into menacing roars, heightening our fear and pushing usto the brink of panic.
Suddenly, Sam spotted a battered but functionalvan parked nearby. "Over there!" he shouted, pointing tothe vehicle. Adrenaline surged through us as we sprinted towards thevan. The growls now seemed to echo from every direction, the unseencreature closing in on us. The van's doors creaked open as wepiled in, fueled by a mixture of desperation and determination. Theengine roared to life, drowning out the ominous sounds outside. Witha collective sigh of relief, we sped away from the clutches of anunknown menace, leaving Dale City behind in our quest for survival.
The van rumbled along the worn-out roads,leaving the desolate streets of Dale City in the rearview mirror. Ourjourney to Toronto, Canada, was marked by an uneasy calm. I glancedat the passing landscapes—ruined buildings, overgrown vegetation,and the remnants of a world that had crumbled under the weight ofwar. The van pressed forward, a steel cocoon sheltering us from theuncertainties that lurked beyond the glass.
Derek, armed with the makeshift map wediscovered in the community hub, assumed the role of navigator. Hisfingers traced the worn lines on the paper, guiding us through thelabyrinth of roads and potential safe zones. "We're headednorth, following this route," he explained, his eyes flickeringbetween the map and the road ahead. The realization that our faterested on the accuracy of that map intensified the gravity of oursituation.
In the back seats, conversation ebbed and flowedamong us. Sara and my mother shared stories of resilience and hope,attempting to lift our spirits amidst the bleak surroundings. Samchimed in with occasional jokes, his humor providing a brief reprievefrom the harsh reality outside the van. I stared out the window,contemplating the world we left behind and the uncertain future thatawaited us in Toronto.
As the hours passed, the atmosphere inside thevan shifted. Tension loomed, and the weight of our individual fearspressed against the confines of the vehicle. Derek, focused on themap, occasionally looked up to gauge our progress. "We shouldreach the outskirts of Toronto by midnight," he announced, histone carrying a mix of determination and concern. The van continuedits journey, each passing mile bringing us closer to a destinationshrouded in both hope and the unknown.
As the day waned into dusk, we decided it wastime to make a pit stop. Derek, always meticulous in his planning,spotted a relatively sheltered area by the roadside—a spot thatoffered a modicum of safety and seclusion. The van eased to a halt,and a collective sigh escaped as we stepped out into the cool eveningair.
Setting up a temporary camp became a sharedtask, a collaborative effort to create a semblance of normalcy amidstthe chaos. Sara and my mother took charge of arranging the fewsupplies we had, creating a makeshift dining area. "We need toration what we have," my mother emphasized, a practical reminderof the scarcity that defined our new reality.
YOU ARE READING
Aftermath
Science-FictionIn the events after World War III, Anne, Sam, and their moms, Brylee and Sara, have to learn to survive in their newly abandoned world while trying to avoid larger threats along the way.
