On the highway, Brian sped down the highway in the bullet-riddled car, his eyes glued to the rearview mirror. The side mirrors had been shattered in the gunfire, so he had to rely on the center mirror to keep an eye on what was behind him.
After driving for several hundred meters without seeing any pursuing military trucks, he finally started to relax a bit. He glanced over at Sarah, who was huddled down in her seat, and said, "You can come up now. They're not following us."
Sarah shuddered slightly as she sat up and looked around. Seeing that they were on the highway, she let out a sigh of relief, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline of what had just happened. It felt like something out of a cop movie she'd seen before—way too intense for her liking.
She turned to Brian, about to scold him for the reckless move, but then she noticed the blood on his face and arms and gasped.
"Are you hurt? Did you get shot?"
"Huh?"
Hearing Sarah's exclamation, Brian finally noticed the blood on him.
As the tension drained from his body, he felt a wave of exhaustion and pain wash over him. He realized he was covered in cuts from the flying glass, especially a burning sensation on his right cheek that told him a bullet had grazed him.
This realization made him shudder. He had acted on a moment's impulse, and if he hadn't been lucky, he could have been killed instantly.
"I'm okay. I didn't get shot. Let's keep driving and find a safe place to deal with these wounds," he said, trying to sound calm.
Sarah, seeing the blood continuing to seep from his wounds, reluctantly set aside her anger. She rummaged through her backpack and pulled out some tissues to clean the cuts.
Despite the shattered windshield obstructing his view, Brian managed to drive for half an hour before Sarah's constant urging made him pull over onto the emergency lane.
"You were crazy to do something so dangerous," she said, her voice tinged with worry as she carefully removed the glass shards from his wounds and dabbed at them with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol.
Seeing the pain contort his face, she softened her tone. "I know you were just trying to get us out of there, but you have to be more careful."
Brian let out a wry smile. "I know I was reckless. I just wanted to get us out of there so badly that I didn't think it through. I'm sorry."
Sarah nodded, understanding that he already knew he'd made a mistake. She carefully wrapped a bandage around his arm, securing it with a few tight knots. She wasn't sure what she felt for Brian, but she knew she didn't want to see him hurt. Seeing him almost get himself killed today had made her furious.
Once his wounds were bandaged, Brian stretched his limbs and looked at the battered car.
"We need to find another vehicle," he said to Sarah, who was putting away the first-aid supplies.
"Huh? What's this?" Brian asked, noticing a clipboard stuck under the windshield wiper. He hadn't seen it while driving because the windshield was shattered. He pulled it out and flipped through the pages, finding a military log sheet with a few entries:
6:10 - Departed from the southern main camp, heading to the northern blockade point.
7:03 - Arrived at the northern blockade point, began deploying blockade measures.
...
There were no other entries, clearly indicating that the log had just started. But what caught Brian's attention was the last line under "Mission Execution" - "Blockade all exits, indiscriminate clearance of the infected zone!"
Though it sounded alarming, Brian had already suspected something like this. He shared his findings with Sarah and showed her the log sheet. Both of them felt a heavy weight in their hearts, each lost in their thoughts as the car fell silent.
At the Rest Area.
American highways are generally free, so if you need gas, food, or a break, you have to exit the highway. After driving for another half hour, Brian saw the sign for a rest area exit ahead. Without hesitation, he turned right and exited the highway.
The rest area was just off the exit, pretty much the same as what he remembered from his past life - a standard gas station, restaurant, and convenience store. Across from the rest area was a motel, and looking down the road, they could even see the outline of the nearest town.
But now, both the rest area and the motel were in disarray, clearly having been ravaged by the infected.
"Let's go check it out," Brian said, pulling over to the side of the road. He got out of the car, grabbing all the pistols and a metal pipe. He had given the dagger to Sarah since she didn't have the strength to wield a blunter weapon effectively. The assault rifle was out of bullets after their last encounter with the infected and was now just a decoration.
Instead of heading to the rest area, which seemed to have more supplies but no vehicles, they crossed the street to the motel. Their priority was to find a working car. The rest area's parking lot was empty, and they didn't need food urgently, so the motel across the street, with several cars parked, became their first choice.
Unbeknownst to them, two figures were hiding inside the convenience store, watching their every move from the shadows.
"Look at that RV over there," Brian said, scanning the motel parking lot. His eyes lit up when he spotted a large white vehicle in the far corner. It would be perfect for their journey ahead, with its built-in beds and bathroom. But then he shook his head.
The RV was too conspicuous and would attract unwanted attention. Plus, its size would limit their speed. So, he let the idea go.
"All the driver's doors are locked," Sarah said, having checked the few cars in the lot. "There's a reception office over there. Maybe we can find the keys inside," Brian suggested, pointing to a small building near the road.
They approached the glass door of the reception office. The windows were covered with blinds, so they had to listen carefully for any signs of the infected. After a moment of silence, they slowly pushed the door open and peered inside.
Unlike the chaos outside, the reception office was surprisingly tidy, as if someone had been cleaning it regularly. "Why is it so clean in here?" Sarah wondered aloud.
"No idea. Maybe because the door was closed," Brian replied, but he had a hunch. He nodded at Sarah, raised his pistol, and slowly moved toward the closed room inside.
Sarah, sensing something was off, also raised her gun and said, "Forget about that. Let's just find the car keys."
As Brian reached the room door, he kicked it open and rushed inside. To his surprise, the room was empty except for a messy bed and a makeshift bed on the floor.
"Is anyone in there?" Sarah called out, worried that Brian hadn't made a sound since he went in.
"It's clear. No one here," Brian replied, squatting down and feeling the residual warmth in the bedding. "Someone was staying here, but they seem to have left."
"Forget that. Let's find the car keys," Sarah said, climbing behind the reception counter and starting to rummage through drawers. After searching for a while with no luck, she moved into the room and finally found the keys in a small metal box on the nightstand.
"Look, I found the keys," she said, holding them up triumphantly.