Threnody (035).

(This is a 500-word-a-day novel project.)

Ryan clapped his hands together. We got zombies and demons and tree-kids, so why not? He took Denny’s hand and ushered him towards the passageway through the station wagon. We walk fast, and if we keep our heads on straight we’ll get to the other side.

The other side. They kept hoping that such a thing existed, that there would be a clearing after all of this madness, where they would be allowed to rest. But what if there was no such place? Jesse thought. What if things became increasingly more horrible until they were either killed or driven mad by it all? What if, after all the darkness, there was only more darkness, more monsters, more dead?

We might not make it past this, she thought darkly. One thing at a time, Jesse-girl.

The other side of the wall made of cars was dark, so dark that they were only able to see a few steps ahead or behind, and then only if they strained their eyes to the point of headache. They had to walk slowly to avoid the low hanging tree branches and their black, slimy leaves that dragged on them unpleasantly while their trunks up close looked like every haunted house image that Jesse had ever seen, complete with knotholes that looked like faces out of the corner of her eyes. Bad things, the boy whispered; Ryan was carrying him again, though it clearly pained his back. Bad things everywhere.

Knock it off, kid, Ryan said kindly, you’re giving me the creeps.

He leaned in close to Jesse’s ear. You hear that?

She did – it was still faint, and mostly she could feel it in her feet. There was a rumbling vibration in the ground that said that something very big was not very far away.

The path was firm under their feet, and that was what Jesse concentrated on, the dull crunch of the rocks under their shoes. Those things were real, and real things had meaning, and no matter how long they went on, they always ended.

Ryan started to say something and then stopped abruptly, clipping his words off with a click of teeth. He halted in the middle of the road and waited for Jesse to pull even with him. Before them, just to the side of the road, smashed into a tree, was a car. When they were close enough to make out the little economy class model, Jesse thought it looked a little like one that had belonged to an old boyfriend, a guy she had dated briefly who had driven the same thing. For a moment she wondered if it was his car and somehow he ended up here, fair and just retribution for being the world’s largest and most durable jerk. But it wasn’t – the license plate did not say JAMMN 48 (which he had found endlessly hilarious) and this one was blue, not white. The hatchback was smashed, and the driver’s side door was banged in mightily.