Apocalypse car survivor

Chapter 2: Escape Into the Unknown

The road stretched ahead, empty except for the wreckage left behind by the chaos. Ethan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Max sat in the passenger seat, ears alert, eyes scanning their surroundings. His low, steady growl told Ethan everything he needed to know—danger was close.

The camper van’s tires crunched over shattered glass and debris. Smoke curled up from distant fires, rising into the morning sky like warning signals. The town of Maplewood, once a quiet, sleepy place, had transformed into a nightmare in less than an hour.

Ethan's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process what he had just seen. People attacking each other. Not just attacking—eating. That wasn’t a riot. It wasn’t some violent protest or a random crime spree. It was something much worse.

He reached for the radio, flipping through static-filled stations.

“—repeat, stay indoors! Avoid contact with—”

Static.

“—government response—quarantine zones set up in—”

More static.

Ethan cursed under his breath. The emergency broadcasts were barely holding together, and from what little he had heard, things weren’t looking good. If this outbreak—or whatever it was—had spread far enough for nationwide warnings, then there wasn’t a safe place left in the city. Maybe not even the state.

“Alright, think,” Ethan muttered to himself. His survival instincts kicked in. He had lived on the road long enough to know that in a crisis, staying put was a death sentence. People would panic, roads would clog, and violence would follow.

He needed to get out.

And he needed to be ready.

The First Stop: Supplies

His camper van was well-equipped, but not for a full-on apocalypse. He had enough food and water for a few days, a first-aid kit, a sleeping area, and tools for basic repairs. But if he was going to survive for the long haul, he needed weapons, fuel, and supplies.

He spotted a small convenience store up ahead, its front doors wide open. A bad sign.

Ethan pulled the van to a stop a few feet away.

“Stay here, Max,” he said, grabbing his hunting knife from the dashboard. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Max whined but stayed put.

Ethan stepped out, the air thick with smoke and the distant sound of screams. He moved cautiously, his boots crunching against broken glass as he entered the store.

Shelves had been ransacked. Food lay scattered across the floor. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter, abandoned in someone’s panic.

He grabbed a backpack from the shelf and started filling it—bottled water, canned food, energy bars. His hands moved quickly, but his ears stayed sharp, listening for any sign of movement.

Then he heard it.

A wet, shuffling sound.

Ethan froze.

Something was moving in the back of the store.

He turned slowly, gripping the knife tighter. A figure emerged from the storage room—a man, or at least what used to be one. His eyes were sunken, skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. Blood dripped from his mouth as he let out a low, guttural moan.

Ethan backed up slowly.

The thing took a step forward, then another.

Then it lunged.

Ethan barely had time to react. He sidestepped, slamming the knife into the thing’s shoulder. It barely flinched. It snarled, reaching for him with claw-like hands.

With a grunt, Ethan shoved it back, sending it crashing into a shelf. He didn’t stick around. He grabbed the bag of supplies and ran.

Max barked wildly as Ethan jumped into the van and slammed the door shut.

The creature staggered out of the store, its dead eyes locking onto him.

Ethan didn’t wait. He gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the monster behind.

His breath came in short, heavy bursts. His heart pounded in his chest.

This wasn’t just a virus.

This was something else.

Something worse.

And it was only the beginning