passed the Indianapolis Airport on his right. Nothing stirred there at all. He usually saw planes either landing or taking off constantly as he drove by.
He had been worried that, once the highway slimmed down to two lanes, he would encounter more trouble with stray cars, but he found that not to be the case. As he came farther and farther from the city, he saw less cars and accidents. The once-lush fields, now stripped of everything but dirt, appeared out of place under the clear, blue horizon. James flipped on the radio as he passed the exit for State Road 39. A high pitched squealing mixed with static shot from the speakers. He moved the dial up and down the frequency band. Various other pitches of screeching and static snipped in and out as he did this. He flipped it back off and tried to focus on the road ahead. Across the median, the occasional car sat waiting for the end of the world. Or had it already happened? He found himself getting drowsy from the monotony. His eyelids drooped heavily when out of the corner of his barely-open eyes, he saw a car zoom past on the eastbound side of the highway. He slammed on his brakes and began to swerve, the car tires screeching like a banshee as the car itself started leaning. When he regained control, James blasted over the median onto the eastbound side and sped after the car he had just seen.
3
James held his foot all the way down on the gas pedal. The car looked like a dot in the distance. Whoever was driving was in a hurry, that much he could tell. He felt equal parts relief and fear to know he had found someone else. The dot gradually became a slightly larger blur. He could make out its red color now. Whatever it was, it looked boxy, very European like.
As he came closer he recognized it to be an old Volkswagen van with two things tied down to the top off it that he couldn’t quite make out. A moment more of holding the gas pedal down and he could see they were surf boards, one bright yellow and the other a dull purple. When he got close enough that he could read the license plate, he saw the face of the woman driving the van. She looked back at him in a panic. He had thought that anyone he might find would be just as happy as him to see another human being. But here he had found one and she was running away.
They were in the middle lane of the now three lane highway as they passed beside the Indianapolis Airport. The lady took another look at James and then swerved to the right just in time to get on the 465 South exit before he could follow suit. Unconcerned with traffic as there was none moving, he slammed on the brakes, squealing tires louder than he could remember. Then he slammed the car into reverse, back into drive, and spun around toward the exit. When he got onto 465 South, he slammed the pedal down and drove for some time, no moving vehicles in sight. When he got to State Road 37, he took the exit and turned back the way he came from. He drove back to where he’d entered the highway, finding no sign of the van. He pulled off to the side of the road, put the car in park, killed the engine, and sat there staring into the distance for a few minutes. He’d missed his chance, he was sure of it.
After some time sitting and feeling sorry for himself, James started the car up and drove back to I-70. He pulled onto the ramp and headed west. The sun was setting up ahead and he tried to block out the worry in the back of his mind. He couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like in this desolate new world at night. The thought gave him goose bumps and he tried to bury it in his mind. He focused on the brilliant hues of gold and lavender. The farther away he got from the city, the more pitch black outside it became. But the clear skies littered with stars were a wonder to James. He’d forgotten how magical the sight was. He had decided to spend the night driving and sleep during the day in order to quell his fears. Just the thought of closing his eyes in the dark produced images of something animated and out of focus grabbing hold of his shoulder. He shuddered. A strong wind had been pushing on the car for some time now and it was unnerving to think that all there was consisted of him, one other person, some trees here and there, strong winds, and the leftover waste of a civilization. He tried to remind himself he still didn’t know for sure how far the effects of whatever had happened extended to.
Maintaining a steady 65 miles an hour, James watched the dotted lines of the highway blur past in single file. He’d been driving for three hours and by the clock on his radio it was now 9:47 PM. His headlights reflected off a familiar green sign. It was the State Road 46 exit for Terre Haute and Riley. He checked his gas gauge. Less than a quarter of a tank. He decided he would be better off getting gas somewhere he knew rather than trying somewhere completely unfamiliar to him. So, he swerved and took the exit. He almost couldn’t make it due to the semi jack- knifed into the curve of the ramp, but he managed to get around by driving over the curb on the left side of the ramp. He took a right on 46 and swerved another right into the Pilot station. There were cars pulled up to most of the pumps. He found one he could pull up to without having to parallel park and killed the engine. The inside of the gas station was well lit and just as empty as everything else. He tried his card again and this time the machine produced an error on the screen. He sighed and looked at the ominous building.
He walked up to the main front door and pulled it open. Inside the place looked as though it were any other day except there were no other people at all. Against the back wall, a single glass door hung open as if a ghost were browsing for a drink. For the first time since he woke that morning, James began to feel a deep growling in his stomach as he looked at the plastic packaged snacks covering the aisles. Even the pork rinds looked good. He went behind the counter and scrambled around until he found the plastic bags. He pulled several out and started filling the bags with a variety of unhealthy snacks. Then he went back behind the counter and tried to figure out the controls to turn on the gas for pump 6. Seemingly by accident he hit the right button and the machine beeped at him. When he came back to the car his arms were full between the bags of snacks, the two 24 packs of cola, the case of beer, and the large gas can he’d taken from the store. He put all the food and drinks in the passenger seat and started filling the gas tank. Then he filled the can. He opened the air hole on the gas can and wedged it in the trunk between a tall stack of old waterlogged magazines and a spare tire.
He closed the trunk and stood watching inside the empty gas station, his hands still sitting on the car. A gust of wind blew at him. It was strong enough that he had to grab hold of the car to keep upright. He looked at the sky above the building. Faint stars were blurred by the bright light of the gas station. In the distant sky beyond the lights of the city he could see something dark obscuring some of the stars.
Once he was back on the highway headed west again, he looked in the rearview mirror to see the darkness spreading. He hadn’t seen any lightning yet, but he was sure it would come. Several minutes later he crossed the Illinois state line. He cracked open a bag of Doritos and loudly crunched on a handful of chips. A moment of anxiety came when he realized the electricity in affected places wouldn’t last much longer. He’d seen once on a documentary show that electric plants will eventually need maintenance and, without people, will shut themselves down as a safety precaution.
Two bags of chips and an apple pie later, James was nearing the I-270 junction. He still hadn’t seen any lightning. A while later, he found the lines on the road starting to blur in the fuzzy warmth of the car heater. He woke up swerving toward the right edge of the highway.
Strange, guttural, almost angry sounding noises filled his speakers, nearly stopping his heart. They weren’t voices. At least he didn’t think they were. But they certainly weren’t any kind of natural radio interference, either. After a while of listening, he realized he was holding his breath and had slowed down to 15 MPH. He stopped the car, put it in park, and continued listening. The sound reminded him of growling, if metal could growl. He sat listening, trying to make sense of the various deep pitches and rhythms. Then his cell phone rang.
4
The air swelled as if static electricity were rising all around him. He looked at his caller ID message on the
