I always thought leaving home was the worst part. Emotionally at least. But I was wrong. Survival was the ultimate test. I faced it almost 10 minutes after setting out into this new found hell. It felt as if I had no one. In all reality I didn't. What family I had left was in prison, or across the country. Hell they could all be dead. As far as I knew I was the last of my family... Perhaps the last human on earth. But that's a bit cliched isn't it?
I had packed up the gas guzzling, polar bear killing, anti-green machine my mom had left me. An old 98 Ford Expedition. It was a bit loud, but not as load as the rebuilt 67 Camaro in the garage. My mom had been gone for some years now, but God knows I'd rather be eaten alive, than have her haunt me because I got zombie all over the pearl white paint. Plus the Ford was relatively sturdy, so I knew it was capable of taking at least a mild beating.
I took a few days to reinforce the SUV a bit more. I filled the inside of the doors with cement. It lugged the car down, and made the doors heavier, but it made them stronger, and bullet proof against small arms fire. I welded a meshing to the inside & outside of the windows, and I rigged the doors with a kind of car alarm, that made them impossible to open unless I wanted them to... or you were smarter than my jimmy rigging mechanics.
When I drove off, everything was relatively clear. But as I reached the crossroads, I came upon one of the most disturbing images of my life. A mist... but not a normal mist.... It was more like death. Before driving into it I said a prayer, and told my mom I love her.