Chapter 3: Jocelyn
Bodies. At least half a dozen piled on top of each other beside the entrance to the garage. I could tell that Jon had tried his best to turn my head, but the horrors lock my gaze. Maggots and flies swarm the gray faces as they glare up at me. I turn and taste vomit in my mouth. This is barbaric that someone would leave this here. No one even tried to cover them up. They just lay there. Jon takes my bags and nudges me along. I don't know why, but my legs feel like bricks. It seems they want me to stand there and gaze at these sunken faces. But soon, I move on. I ask for my bags back, but he says not to worry about it. Jon tries to be protective; it makes him feel better.
I wipe my mouth with my arm.
“I'm okay; let's just keep going,” I mumble out. I'm really not sure if I am, but I needed to say it. I start to walk quicker, ahead of Jon, to where we parked the car last week. Not many cars are left. A few have shattered windows and the resulting shards of glass crunch beneath my boots. They seem to have been rummaged through and some have their gas tank lids open. I hear the wheels of the luggage as Jon follows me, but they don’t come close to drowning out the sound of the people outside. The crowds in the streets seem louder in the garage. I feel so uneasy, thinking about how everything would become so mad, especially when Jon and I have remained so calm throughout this ordeal. I guess we are a minority. We arrive at dad's white SUV and load in what’s left of our home. Luckily, unlike most of the cars in the garage, it hasn't been damaged. Jon takes the driver seat. We drive down the gray concrete garage. Jon has to steer around a few cars that look like they’ve broken down. Our SUV takes us around and around to the exit of the garage. I put on my sunglasses as the early sun blinds my vision at the exit.
I wish I could have remained blind because the streets lie in complete chaos. It’s indescribably painful to see my home and my neighbors tearing themselves apart. Storefronts along the tall buildings are shattered open. Bodies line the streets. I see people yelling, just next to some children who are crying without anyone paying them any mind.
“This isn't possible.” I mutter to Jon. He brings the car to a stop right outside the parking garage. His bulging eyes and slightly open mouth convey that he’s just as shocked.
“My God, this is out of control. It seemed…more contained from so far up. It was not even this bad yesterday. We need to get out of here.” As Jon finishes his last words, I see a man point toward us. He must be approaching his twenties. The man's mouth moves, as if to shout to all of those around him. I cannot hear him. At least twenty more eyes peer at us. Most are teenagers.
“Jon, get us out of here. What do they want?”
He turns the car away from the strangers and hits the accelerator. “Probably a running car. Not a lot of people in the city have a car-everyone who did probably left, or at least tried.”
Few people dwell in the opposite direction of that soon-to-be mob. I turn around and watch as the crowd of people, my age, slowly drifts away. After I breathe a sigh of relief, Jon and I exchange glances and drive forward. Young children look lost and older ones try to give comfort. Maybe they are headed to hospitals and police stations in search of some help-any help. Some seem to be all alone, and I feel horrible for them. I wish I could help all of them somehow. A few more cars pass us on the left, on the other side of the yellow line. We are all heading out of the city, and I imagine that some of these people don’t even know where their ultimate destination is.
Jon slouches down to look at the road signs at the top of the telephone poles. “We need to get to one of the bridges.”
Jon pulls up to a red light and the car comes to a halt. There doesn't seem to be any cross-traffic, but why chance it, I guess. There’s certainly no reason to stop for fear of the police. As we are stopped, Jon looks over to me.
“We are gonna make it though this, I promise.” he fakes a smile. I know he means it, but this madness is far out of either of our control.
“I know.” I say back, not making eye contact. I push my hair behind my ear and stare at the red light. Jon leans forward and squints his eyes at me. No, not at me- past me and out the window. I turn my head and see a boy waving; he is maybe 18 or 19. Behind him, there are a few others of his age. He returns Jon's look with a smile and approaches the car. Jon rolls down my window to talk to him. The boy’s head is only a few feet from my own.
“Hey, Darry. Man! How have you been making out?” Jon asks, observing Darry’s fatigued features. He sounds almost too casual. Our father just died. Most of the city just died. My chest tightens.
“My folks were two of the first to go, right when school was canceled. We have been managing ever since. Good to see you made it out alright.” Darry slowly responds. His sunken eyes shift to me then back to Jon. He leans in slightly and looks into the backseat. “Where are you two headed?”
“Out of here. I thought the country may be a better place to wait this one out.” Jon answers as I nod in agreement. Dad thought we should get out to the country. Regardless, the plan seems strange to discuss with others. Darry looks to the left and his right then back to Jon.
“That's a good idea. Sorry it's not going to work out.” Darry smirks. I am not sure what he means, but then I feel his knife resting against my throat.