Inside the Ford E450

  The driver was a middle-aged white man in his fifties, with a slight beer belly and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. His face was tense, but his hands on the wheel were steady, maneuvering the bulky vehicle with practiced ease.

  In the backseat, near the sliding door, sat a young Black man, no older than twenty. He wore a gray T-shirt with punk-style lettering, baggy harem pants, and a chain around his neck. His head was shaved close, and he had a pair of earrings glinting in the dim light. He looked every bit the hip-hop enthusiast.

  Behind him, near the rear door, sat a young girl—probably still in high school, though she carried herself with a maturity beyond her years. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, and her makeup was subtle, with a touch of blue eyeshadow. She stared out the window, lost in thought, her hands gripping the back of the front seat as the car jolted over the uneven road. The driver, Mike, wasn’t at fault; the streets were littered with debris and the occasional zombie corpse.

  “Hey, look! There are people up ahead!” the young man, Jason, exclaimed, pointing through the windshield. “What are they holding?” He glanced at the fire axe resting beside him.

  The girl in the back, Christine, snapped out of her daze and leaned forward, peering over the seat. “Two people. What are they shouting?”

  **On the Road**

  “Hey! Wait! Take us with you!” a woman’s voice cried out.

  “Damn it, they’re bringing all the zombies with them!” a man’s voice growled, trailing off as he turned to fend off a zombie lunging at him. He swung his makeshift spear, driving it into the creature’s skull before yanking it free.

  Vincent frowned deeply as he and Manuela ran, stopping occasionally to deal with the relentless horde. “There are too many. They’re going to lead them straight to Vigo Street.”

  “Hey! Help us! Hey!” Manuela waved her arms frantically, her chest heaving under her loose T-shirt. If zombies could be distracted by such things, the entire street would’ve come to a standstill.

  **Inside the Ford**

  “Whoa, that girl’s hot! Mike, stop the car! Let them in!” Jason said, clearly impressed by Manuela’s… enthusiasm. He leaned forward, slapping the back of Mike’s seat.

  “Are you crazy? Look at all the zombies around us!” Mike shot back, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

  “Come on, Mike! If Aunt Laura finds out you left people to die, she’ll kick you out!” Jason argued, his voice rising.

  “Watch your mouth, kid. I’m your uncle now, remember? Laura wouldn’t be too happy with you talking to me like that either,” Mike snapped, keeping his foot on the gas.

  The car sped past Vincent and Manuela, leaving them in its wake. Christine, still looking out the window, turned to watch the two figures recede into the distance.

  Jason glanced at Mike, then at Christine, giving her a subtle nod. She hesitated for a moment before climbing over the seats to the back of the van.

  “What are you doing, kid?” Mike barked, catching her movement in the mirror.

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  *Click.*

  The rear door unlocked, and Christine pushed it open. “Hurry! Get in!” she shouted to Vincent and Manuela.

  Jason scrambled to the back as well, fire axe in hand. He swung it at a zombie trying to climb into the van, cleaving its skull in two. “Get lost, you freak!”

  “Damn it!” Mike cursed under his breath. There was no turning back now. He adjusted his cap, gripped the wheel, and slammed on the brakes. The van screeched to a halt, then reversed rapidly.

  “Oh, thank God!” Manuela cried, sprinting toward the van. Vincent was right behind her, taking down another zombie with his spear. The van stopped just a few feet away, and Manuela tossed her spear aside, leaping into the open door. Christine and Jason grabbed her arms, pulling her inside.

  Vincent followed, hurling his spear like a javelin into a zombie that had gotten too close. He yanked the door shut behind him.

  *Click.*

  The door locked, and Mike hit the gas, speeding down Vigo Street and leaving the horde behind.

  **Inside the Van**

  Vincent and Manuela sat in the back, catching their breath and sizing up their rescuers.

  Christine pulled a pack of tissues from her pocket and handed one to Manuela. “You’ve got… uh, blood on your face.”

  “Thanks,” Manuela said, wiping her face clean.

  “Hey, man, I’m Jason,” the young man said, turning around with a grin and extending his hand to Vincent.

  “Vincent,” Vincent replied, shaking Jason’s hand.

  Jason then turned to Manuela, his grin widening. “And you are?”

  “Manuela,” she said, shaking his hand but distracted.

  “I’m Christine,” the blonde girl added, giving a small wave. She wasn’t as outgoing as Jason, but her tone was friendly.

  “Hi,” Vincent and Manuela said in unison.

  Mike, the driver, finally spoke up, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Name’s Mike. You can call me Old Mike.”

  Mike wasn’t hostile toward Vincent and Manuela, but he hadn’t wanted to risk stopping for them either. To him, Jason and Christine were kids—even if Jason was technically an adult. Now that the two were in the van, though, he wasn’t about to throw them out.

  Vincent’s plan to find a car at the parking lot was scrapped. The Ford had drawn too many zombies to Vigo Street, and the horde would linger there for a while.

  The van sped through the streets, weaving around abandoned cars and swerving to avoid zombies. The undead chased after them, but the Ford’s sturdy build and Mike’s driving kept them at bay—for now.

  “I saw you drive past Oak Street earlier. Why’d you come back?” Vincent asked, finally catching his breath.

  Jason shrugged. “We were heading to a gun shop, but the place was crawling with zombies. So… we turned around.”

  “Where are we going now?” Manuela asked, peering out the window. The streets were unfamiliar, and the number of zombies wasn’t reassuring.

  Jason hesitated, glancing at Mike. Mike kept his eyes on the road but said nothing.

  “We’re going to Dreamland Clothing on Westgate Street. Two more people are waiting for us there,” Christine explained.

  **Westgate Street**

  Westgate Street was much like Oak Street—old, rundown, and littered with wrecked cars and corpses. Dreamland Clothing was a mid-sized store, its windows and doors shuttered with metal roll-down gates. It hadn’t opened for the day when the outbreak hit.

  The Ford screeched around a corner and onto Westgate Street, plowing through zombies as it sped toward the store. Mike slowed slightly as they approached a narrow alley beside the building, then expertly guided the van into the tight space. The left side of the van scraped against the wall, leaving barely enough room for the sliding door to open.

  A metal door in the wall creaked open, and Jason tossed his fire axe inside before climbing out. Zombies swarmed the alley, but the narrow gap between the van and the wall kept them from reaching the door.

  “Move it, everyone! Out now!” Mike barked, waving for the others to follow.

  Christine, Manuela, Vincent, and Mike scrambled out of the van and through the door, which slammed shut behind them.

  **Inside Dreamland Clothing**

  The store was dimly lit, its walls lined with racks of clothing and posters of celebrities wearing the latest fashions. Waiting for them inside were two figures: a towering, muscular white man covered in tattoos, and a middle-aged Black woman.

  The man held a Sig P210 pistol, its barrel pointed casually at the woman beside him. His sharp, angular features gave him a menacing air, and his cold eyes flicked toward Vincent and Manuela.

  “Where are the guns?” the man demanded, his voice low and threatening. He gestured toward Vincent and Manuela with the pistol. “And who the hell are they?”

  Something about the situation felt… off.