The internal clock in Brian’s head woke him at seven.
He opened his eyes slowly, ready to stretch, but his left arm was completely numb.
He turned his head and found Sarah still using it as a pillow, her body wrapped around his like an octopus.
He sighed and gently extracted his arm.
The pins and needles hit him like a wave, and his face contorted in discomfort.
A few minutes later, the sensation faded.
Brian carefully peeled himself out of Sarah’s grip, breathing a sigh of relief once he was free.
He stood up and glanced down at her, still fast asleep.
Then he crouched and pulled a folded map of Texas from the inner pocket of his backpack.
He’d grabbed it from a bookstore yesterday.
After a quick check of the car, he crept to the factory entrance, opened a narrow gap, and slipped sideways through the crack.
Outside, the morning sun hit him square in the face.
He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust, then walked over to a rusted car and spread the map across its trunk.
He found Austin on the map and traced his finger northward: Round Rock, Temple, Waco, and finally Dallas.
He studied the route and muttered to himself, “I wonder what kind of trouble we’ll run into.” BOOM!
A massive explosion echoed from somewhere nearby.
Then came the rapid rat-tat-tat of rifle fire, followed by human screams—the unmistakable sound of people dying.
Brian’s heart seized.
He snapped his head toward the noise.
But too many obstacles blocked his view.
He couldn’t see what was happening.
A cold dread settled in his chest.
He folded the map, shoved it into his pocket, and ran back inside the factory.
He threw both doors open wide and shouted, “Sarah!
Wake up!
We’re leaving!
Now!” Sarah’s head popped out from behind the car, relief washing over her face when she saw Brian was safe.
She looked confused.
“What happened?” The explosion had jolted her awake.
Finding Brian gone had sent a spike of panic through her.
Now she just wanted answers.
Brian quickly explained what he’d heard, then opened the driver’s side door and climbed in, his expression grim.
“Whatever’s going on over there, it’s not our problem.
Grab everything and get in.
We’re leaving.” “Right.” Sarah nodded and ran for the backpacks, tossing them into the car before sliding into the passenger seat.
VROOM—!
Brian didn’t hesitate.
He wove through the scrap yard and shot out onto the road, tires kicking up a cloud of dust.
He floored the accelerator and the car sped forward like an arrow.
His eyes darted constantly to the rearview mirror.
He kept checking for pursuers.
Only when they’d put some distance between themselves and the factory did he start to relax.
Then he saw the sign for the highway entrance and turned the wheel.
“Son of a—!” The moment they rounded the corner, Brian spotted a military truck blocking the highway ramp.
Soldiers stood beside it, fully armed.
His mind raced.
Why were they here?
But the moment the soldiers raised their rifles, Brian knew.
These people were not friendly.
The gunfire and screams from town.
His previous encounter with trigger-happy soldiers during the outbreak.
His gut told him everything he needed to know.
He might be wrong.
But he wasn’t about to gamble his life on it.
He’d never been the type to hand his fate over to strangers with guns.
“What are they doing here?” Sarah frowned, her distrust of the military now deeply ingrained.
“No idea.
But it’s not good for us.” Sarah understood.
The highway was blocked.
And if they turned back, the soldiers would eventually find them anyway.
“So what do we do?” “Hold on.
Get down.” Brian tapped the accelerator, then slammed it to the floor.
The car rocketed toward the highway entrance.
Sarah screamed and ducked.
The soldiers at the checkpoint stared at the approaching vehicle in disbelief.
They’d just set up.
A car this early was the last thing they expected.
One of them, apparently the leader, grabbed a loudspeaker from a supply crate.
“Vehicle ahead!
This is the National Disaster Response Unit!
Stop your vehicle and submit to inspection!
We will escort you to—” He never finished.
The car was accelerating straight at him.
He realized the driver knew something.
He dropped the loudspeaker and raised his rifle.
“Open fire!” RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Bullets peppered the car’s exterior, sparking against the metal.
The windshield cracked, spiderwebbing with bullet holes.
Brian crouched low, pressing himself against the seat.
Fear and adrenaline surged through him in equal measure.
His heart pounded.
His breathing came fast and shallow.
The gap between them and the soldiers shrank.
Brian yanked the wheel hard, swerving toward the supply crates stacked beside the checkpoint.
CRASH!
The impact sent crates flying in every direction.
Some slammed into the soldiers, forcing them back.
Others shielded the car from incoming fire.
Seizing the moment, Brian floored it again.
He shot past the military truck, smashed through the barricade, and tore onto the highway.
The soldiers stared at the fleeing vehicle, stunned.
The leader turned to his men.
“You two stay here!
The rest of you, get in the truck!
We’re chasing them down!” He jumped into the driver’s seat and sped onto the highway, grabbing his radio.
“Command, this is Checkpoint Seven!
A vehicle broke through the northern perimeter and entered the highway!
I’m in pursuit!
I’ll cut them off!” But the voice that crackled back wasn’t his commander’s.
“Who authorized you to pursue?
Return to your checkpoint immediately.
I will handle the vehicle.
And soldier—if anyone else escapes your position, there will be consequences.” “Yes…
yes, sir.
Returning now.” The leader’s face went pale.
Sweat dripped down his forehead.
He slammed the brakes, turned the truck around, and headed back.
Somewhere west of town, in a military encampment, the commander in the tactical vest set down the radio.
He turned to the officer beside him.
“Get to the northern sector.
Don’t mess this up.” “Yes, sir.” The officer saluted and hurried out of the tent.
Alone now, the commander leaned back and closed his eyes.
A smile crept across his face.
He’d been wondering how to quietly let a few survivors slip through.
And now, as if fate had handed him the solution, a car had simply escaped.
It was almost too perfect.
Even God wants this country saved.