It had all happened so suddenly.
One minute a volcano had erupted, the next the entire US was without a food source, and he was driving in the middle of a desert that looked more like a snowfield, to a place where it was known that crop seeds lay safe inside a warehouse.
Of course, it would take much more than just the crops themselves; America would need a place to raise them, and of course the government had greenhouses all over the country for that. But there was one more danger out here, dangerously close to ground zero…
Zombies, previously creatures of fiction, were now fact, destroyed by the supernatural volcano deep within the heart of Yellowstone. It just so happened that the storehouse was in that same region, almost the same state, as the famous national park.
The people once known as and laughed at Doomsday Preppers might yet save the human race. He tightened his air mask; even in this regal limo, he didn’t feel safe.
It wasn’t a wide open area like the Sahara out there, nothing but yellow sands and one solitary road. This desert was dirtier and rockier than that, just on the edge. And just when the President finally thought he was safe… this road trip was about to get a lot rockier.
He pulled his seatbelt tighter against him as the awkward, long car was sent over high and low rock hills, landing smoothly or jarringly each time. They had to get away, for the good of their country. But no matter how fast they sped, the zombies were somehow faster.
Darkness fell, even through the tinted windows, and they knew they had failed. They had caught up. All the dead and rotting bodies pressed up against the windows, smashing them, pale hands reaching out.
“The President!” called the driver, and he could see the flash of a phone. “We won’t make it! You have to –”
The line went dead.
Tale for Trifecta
Inspired by a game on my phone called Zombie Road Trip