The Rental

  “We were making pretty good time Laura. Until we got redirected by the GPS” He says to his wife. Looking at the GPS app pulled up on his phone. He gives it the disdainful glance of a spouse. Forced to take back an adulterous partner. The woman riding in the passenger seat sits back. Having just turned the satellite radio to the seventies station. “Well, James like I told you.” She uncaps a bottle of soda taking a swig. “I just didn’t want to be in some backwoods town when the sun went down.” He chuckles as the shiny sleek grey minivan speeds down the interstate. He had fallen in love like most folks with a rental car. This was pure automotive heaven compared to his ten-year-old minivan sitting at home. They had rented this beauty to drive from Illinois to Alabama for their daughter’s wedding. Now they were heading home. Midnight was approaching as they came upon Nashville. South, I-65 was bordered by thick dense forest on either side of the road. On the east side of the road in the distance. The city lights sparkled like multi-colored jewels laid out on pristine black velvet. Nashville was separated from I-65 by several miles of trees and open fields. Where the land sloped gently down to the city. “Anybody hungry?” Laura calls back to their children. She opens a blue cooler as a chorus of “I am” and “me” erupt from the back seat. “Jordan,” Laura says passing two sandwiches to their teenage son. “Pass those back to Joslin and Jalen.” The boy does as instructed handing food back to his giggling younger sisters. “I just want an apple mom.” Their oldest Susan blurts from the seat behind Laura. The minivan begins to decelerate quickly. “Why are we slowing?” Laura turns bracing herself against the dashboard. “Ugh, I think we are coming up on some night road construction.” He sighs through gritted teeth. Ahead of them, a line of red brake lights stretching out like a string of Christmas lights. They go from cruising to a complete stop in less than a minute. The cars on the Interstate now idle bumper to bumper. He shuts off the car in frustration. Staring in disbelief James sees the once green route traced out on his phone’s GPS app. Now blinking the dark red of delay and gridlock. The dense dark forest dances with glimmering red shadows cast off by the multitude of brake lights.

   Without warning and intense ball of flames shoots into the night sky over Nashville. The entire family whips their heads in the direction of the blast almost in unison. A greasy black cloud of smoke billows up against the night sky like an oil stain on a black shirt. “What the ….” James shouts as his younger daughters’ yelp in terror. The minivan rocks softly as the blast waves reach them with a muted “boom.” “Good Lord …” Jordan begins from behind his father. “Look at all the emergency lights.” Below them, scattered about the cityscape strobing lights materialize out of the distant inky darkness. As if they have been summoned by magic. In the blink of an eye with the speed of someone tossing a match in a puddle of gas. Three more rapid-fire explosions dot the city’s beautiful skyline. Below them in the distance. The city of Nashville is infected with pockets of ravenous yellow flames. They are drawn back to the here and now by a slap on the van’s windshield. All at once everyone in the van screams in horror. A bloodied man the skin on his face in tatters. Slaps the window on Laura’s side of the van. The woman unclasps her seatbelt and in one panicked motion leaps into her husband’s lap. James lets his gaze settle on the blood-soaked man. Suddenly baring his teeth. The man snarls like a rabid animal. A brackish thick foamy rivulet of saliva pours from his mouth. In the rear of the van, the younger girls begin to wail for their mother. The man slaps the passenger side window with a bloodied palm. He pounds the window repeatedly. Leaving behind an abstract portrait of bloody smears. On the once pristine window. Behind the man, a second man appears. Having exited an idling big rig in the next lane. “Hey, buddy …” is all the hefty truck driver gets out. The man pounding on the window snaps to as if touched by a cattle prod. Roaring the bloodied man pounces on the burly man, driving the trucker to the ground. A scream, unlike anything anyone in the van has ever heard a human make. Echoes across the night sky as the man atop the trucker. Tears away a large portion of the trucker’s right cheek with his teeth.

  A new wave of screams bounces around the interior of the minivan. Punctuated by an eight-year-old Joslin. Who hollers “zombie” at the top of her lungs. James finds his mind following a disjointed fractured path. It briefly goes back to his wife scolding him. After allowing their baby girl to watch him play a zombie-themed video game. As his eyes focus pulling away from the past and back to the present. His heart leaps hard enough in his chest to cause him physical pain. Across the road from where they sit. Dozens upon dozens of figures are staggering from the pitch-black woods. This shuffling, wailing mass of figures plunge onto the asphalt of I-65 in waves. Attacking anything living like fire ants consuming all in their path. People caught outside their cars are defenseless against the onslaught. Soon the family is surrounded by screams and chaos on all sides. These crazed people, he refuses to admit they are possibly the undead. As his eight-year-old has insinuated. They cover the road breaking in vehicles. The dead work attacking with an uncoordinated frenzy. It requires no thinking just pure primal instinct. As one helpless person after another is dragged from their vehicle. Then brutally torn to shreds by gnashing teeth and filthy clawing fingers. While yet others die screaming. As these monstrous beings’ pile into their vehicles to get at their warm flesh. With his wife still on his lap, James sees his teenage daughter in the rear of the van. A woman with a savage neck wound. Is clawing at the window screeching as she attempts to get at the girl. Jalen terrified at the woman’s face and with tears running down her cheeks. She presses her jacket up to the window covering the woman’s face. Attempting to his from the woman outside. “Dadddddd” Jalen calls. Before James can move, he watches the woman outside the van loose interest in his daughter. Instead, the ragged woman moans turning away. She shuffles away two cars over to a woman who is standing on the roof of her car. The blonde woman on top of the car is surrounded. She cradles a tiny yapping dog in her arms. The agitated crowd of zombies besieges the car on all sides as the woman cries for help. They begin to rock the car. This causes the woman and her dog to topple head first into the hungry crowd below. “Cover the windows,” James yells as he makes eye contact with a pack of crazed figures headed their way.

  He grabs the windshield sun cover the rental car company had provided from the center console. The metallic green cover is emblazoned with the company’s orange swoosh logo. It unfurls like an umbrella as he jams it into place with second to spare. The Lawson family demolishes the contents of the car. Frantically covering the windows obscuring their attacker's view. Two dozen sets of bloodied hands began to pound on the rental’s exterior. They use everything from Laura’s formal pink dress to their pillows and covers. Soon the interior of the car in cast into a deep black claustrophobic darkness. The pounding slowly ceases as the moans drift away fading into the night. The family is huddled in the center of the van doors locked. From the middle of the pile, someone starts praying softly. They compress themselves in together. From somewhere close by a massive engine revs. This is followed by the unmistakable sounds of a semi truck’s engine dropping into gear. The massive truck comes to life. With only their ears to tell the story. The horrendous shriek of metal rending rings out. The van jostles as it’s pushed sideways. Someone whimpers inside the van. “It's ok, it's ok” James soothes his family wrapped in his arms. Outside the world descends into chaos. The sound of the diesel battering ram carrying into the distance. The night goes by slowly. Serenading the terrified family with a soundtrack of screams, sirens, gunshots, moans, and explosions. All the sounds one would associate the world falling to its knees.

 Tense hours pass by like years in the van. A thin shaft of sunlight cast across the roof of the rental awakens James. He pulls away from his family and positions himself to peek out the window. In the door’s armrest, he sees his phone. He grabs it tapping the screen to wake the device up. The GPS app is still running. It shows the road to home is still impassable. It advises a U-turn as the northbound lanes are free. Operating on muscle memory alone, his thumb refreshes the GPS app. He sees a text message from twenty minutes ago. It's his newlywed daughter back in Illinois, Kayla. “Dad, Bob and I have been trying to call you guys. News is talking about zombies and outbreaks like all over the south. Turn around come back here. Praying you guys are safe call me please.” He can see a few zombies walking aimlessly about through the slit. The road before them is dead figuratively and literally. Something large has plowed a clear path in the next lane over. The other side of the I-65 leading back north is open and clear. The line of his daughter’s text resonates in his mind. “Turn around …” “Wake up” he whispers to his family. Cranking the engine up. The van starts with a smooth growl. James rips the window screen down. As he steers the car over debris in the road. Plunging the now dented grey gore covered minivan into the soft grassy median.  Directly before him, he can see Nashville. Wicked black tendrils of smoke waft upwards from the dying city. The smoke threatening to obscure the brilliant early morning sun. He runs over two filthy figures crouched in the high grass tearing at something meaty and pink. Once he hits the open road on the opposite side, he guns the engine. The only obstacles he can see are rogue packs of zombies scattered about. The dead meander on legs stiffened by rigor and injuries. The van passes them by with ease. “What are we doing?” Laura asks panic still etched across her beautiful brown features. He hands her his phone without speaking. Eyes locked on the road passing a green sign reading “Illinois 150 miles.”