Mason drove well into the night taking backroads, purposefully avoiding main or major roads which would no doubt be filled with people. Only stopping briefly for a short two-hour nap within his truck.
By the time he woke up, the sun was already shining. Thankfully with the light of day Mason is able to recognise where he is and knows that there's a town a few miles ahead which has a road that leads right up to Atlanta. Where he may have to abandon the truck and head into the city on foot, but he'll make that judgement when he gets there.
"C'mon girl, toilet break"
Cheshire perked up at the sound of his voice, stretching before hopping down from the passenger seat. Mason stepped out into the cool morning air, stretching the stiffness from his back as he scanned the treeline.
He leaned against the truck, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes while Cheshire sniffed around nearby. The past twenty-four hours played in his head on a loop, Sarge's voice breaking through the static, the chaos on the highway, and the bombs that had lit up the night sky like the end of the world.
Atlanta.
The image of the burning skyline wouldn't leave him. He'd watched the city crumble from miles away; He had to watch everything he knew fall apart, and the only thing keeping him moving now was the thought that the orphanage was far enough out to be spared.
They had to be alive.
He checked his map on the dash. The town up ahead sat just outside the metro area. If he could make it through, there was a service road that wound toward the outskirts. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the path home.
Cheshire trotted back, tail flicking, and Mason crouched to scratch behind her ear. "Good girl. We're almost there."
They got back into the truck, Mason starting the engine with a tired sigh. The road ahead was cracked and overgrown, and the smell of smoke still hung faintly in the air. As he drove, the small town slowly came into view empty streets, Cars abandoned at odd angles, a gas station sign half hanging off its post
He slowed to a crawl, eyes darting between the buildings. Storefronts had been smashed in; doors left swinging open. A few papers drifted across the road like ghosts in the sunlight.
"Stay sharp," Mason muttered. Cheshire's ears twitched; her gaze locked forward.
A quick glace down Mason looks at his fuel gauge; he's going to have to refuel quickly before moving on. Climbing out of the truck, Mason grabs the jerry can James gave him. Opening the fuel cap Mason starts to refuel his truck in silence.
Silence that is broken by Cheshire's growl, "What's the matter girl?" Mason asks looking around only to spot a singular man stumbling toward him.
"Hey, you okay man?" Mason asks stepping in the man's direction. Only to pause as he gets a closer look at him.
The man's clothes are torn and bloodied, his skin darkened, eyes pale and unfocused. Stumbling toward Mason the man lets out a growl showing his bloody teeth.
Mason instantly thinks back to what Sarge said to him on the walkie, 'Eating People'. Mason doesn't hesitate and pulls out his pistol, "Back off, right now!" He demanded.
The man doesn't stop, not an ounce of hesitation nor fear. The man whatever it is just keeps heading toward Mason. "I'm warning you, I will fire"
Mason gets no answer, just more growls and snarls.
His breathe speeds up as the man slowly gets closer and closer, "Last chance man, don't make me do this" Mason's voice comes out weaker than he would've wanted.
A few feet is all that separates the two; Mason could hear his own heartbeat, but his hands remain steady. The man stumbles closer to close for Mason to hesitate any longer. Relying on his training from his father and his hours in the shooting range Mason pulls the trigger.
Three shots are fired each hitting their mark. Two to the chest and one to the head, the most common shooting technique practiced by the police and military.
The man falls to the ground with a sickening thud.
Mason's heart starts to slow, his breathes steady as he cautiously approaches the body. Theres very little blood coming from the gunshot wounds, so Mason has too certain. He gently nudges the body with his foot, there's no response. Crouching down Mason rolls over the body getting a proper look at the now dead man.
The bullet hole in its head slowly leaking some blood, its eyes wide open and cloud, its mouth and teeth covered in blood, blood that covers its body and hands. Mason quickly pats it down and finds a wallet in its pocket. Opening it he finds some cash, cards and an ID.
this ha"Micheal Owens, 32 years old" Mason muttered under his breath before looking at the photo in the wallet, "Father of two, I don't know what happened to you but I'm sorry"
Mason takes a moment of silence; that was quickly interrupted by Cheshire barking loudly and frantically. He takes a look around to see what set off his dog, only for his heart to stop.
Stumbling around and heading in his direction, growling and snarling was a small group of these monsters. Mason could already see six in front of him and more appearing from all other directions. "Fuck me"
He doesn't waste anymore time a bolts toward his truck, spotting one of the monsters close to the truck's doors Mason couldn't hesitate to raise his gun as he fires once, hitting its shoulder. His next shot hits its forehead, and it drops dead.
Without skipping a beat Mason jumps over the body and pulls the door open, sliding behind the wheel he turns the key and starts the engine, before slamming his foot down, getting the hell of out this town.
The city loomed ahead like a graveyard. From the rise in the road, Mason could see the edge of Atlanta, a jagged horizon of ruined buildings, some still burning. The closer he got, the more the air changed. The wind carried that faint, sour stench of rot and gasoline; it made Cheshire whine low in her throat.
He slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill, letting the engine idle while he took it in. Miles of silence. No moving cars. No people. The sight turned his stomach not from fear, but from the brutal reminder that this had once been home.
He'd been here a hundred times before field trips, errands, cheap lunches with the kids from the orphanage and now the same skyline looked alien.
Mason killed the engine and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel shoulder. The wind tugged at his jacket as he leaned on the hood, scanning the road ahead. "We made it," he murmured, mostly to himself. Cheshire circled once before sitting beside him, her ears pinned back.
He knelt and rested a hand on her neck. "After this, it's on foot. Too many wrecks in the streets, too many places to get boxed in." Her brown eyes flicked up to him, trusting, waiting. Mason smiled faintly, the first real one in days. "We'll be smart. Careful. Just like we planned."
He took one last deep breath, tasting the ash in the air, and slung his pack over his shoulder. "Alright, girl," he said, voice low but steady. "Time to finish this."
Cheshire stood and padded beside him as he started down the slope, leaving the safety of the truck behind. Each step toward Atlanta felt heavier, but his resolve had never been clearer. Whatever waited for them inside that broken city, he was going to find his Family or die trying.
The city loomed ahead like a graveyard. From the rise in the road, Mason could see the edge of Atlanta, a jagged horizon of ruined buildings, some still burning. The closer he got, the more the air changed. The wind carried that faint, sour stench of rot and gasoline; it made Cheshire whine low in her throat.
He slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill, letting the engine idle while he took it in. Miles of silence. No moving cars. No people. The sight turned his stomach not from fear, but from the brutal reminder that this had once been home.
He'd been here a hundred times before field trips, errands, cheap lunches with the kids from the orphanage and now the same skyline looked alien.
Mason killed the engine and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel shoulder. The wind tugged at his jacket as he leaned on the hood, scanning the road ahead. "We made it," he murmured, mostly to himself. Cheshire circled once before sitting beside him, her ears pinned back.
He knelt and rested a hand on her neck. "After this, it's on foot. Too many wrecks in the streets, too many places to get boxed in." Her brown eyes flicked up to him, trusting, waiting. Mason smiled faintly, the first real one in days. "We'll be smart. Careful. Just like we planned."
He took one last deep breath, tasting the ash in the air, and slung his pack over his shoulder. "Alright, girl," he said, voice low but steady. "Time to finish this."
Cheshire stood and padded beside him as he started down the slope, leaving the safety of the truck behind. Each step toward Atlanta felt heavier, but his resolve had never been clearer. Whatever waited for them inside that broken city, he was going to find his Family or die trying.
~End