Free Survival by T.W. Piperbrook

unease.
    As he’d learned thus far, danger was inescapable; the only thing prolonging his life was luck and time.
    In any case, being in the vehicle was better than being on foot, and he was grateful for the cover. The windows and doors provided a layer of protection he hadn’t had while in the woods.
    The roads were straight, with an occasional curve. Every time Noah took a turn he cringed, expecting to find some new source of danger around the corner. Other than a few abandoned vehicles, however, the road stayed empty.
    Noah would’ve liked to wait longer to return. But the longer he waited, the less chance there’d be something in the truck. With looters running rampant, it wouldn’t take long for the vehicle to be picked over, if there was anything left to pick through at all.
    He maintained a speed of forty-five, doing his best to avoid the wreckage and debris. A popped tire could get him killed. Changing it would mean he’d have to get out of the vehicle, and getting out would mean he’d be exposed to danger.
    He waited for a straightaway before glancing down at the directions.
    According to the loopy scrawl of Caddy’s handwriting, the next turn should be coming up. He’d take Whited Street. After that he’d travel only a few minutes before reaching the abandoned pickup.
    He’d just glanced up when a figure stepped onto the road in front of him.
    Noah cried out in surprise and stomped the brakes. The tires screeched as he tried to avoid the oncoming pedestrian; he tugged at the wheel, doing his best to swerve. The two were on a collision course.
    There was no time to change direction, no time to hit the horn.
    The car collided with the pedestrian, flinging the figure over the hood and onto the pavement. Noah came to a stop in time to see the body rolling in the road behind him. Heart pounding, he threw the vehicle into park and exited.
    What had he done? Had he killed someone?
    It took him a second to determine the figure was still moving. The person groaned from the pavement, writhing back and forth in agony. He jogged over to the person’s side, bile creeping up his windpipe. The thought of injuring someone else was enough to make him sick.
    He’d already been responsible for enough bloodshed.
    It wasn’t until he reached the person’s side that he noticed something was off. The figure was moving erratically, and the groans weren’t cries of pain, but cries of hunger. Noah crouched on the asphalt five feet away.
    “Hello?” he tried.
    The figure swiveled, revealing grayed skin and an opened mouth.
    The creature had once been a man with short gray hair and a moustache. The thing snapped at Noah, trying to reach him, but its legs were incapacitated. Noah stared at it for several seconds, filled with relief.
    There was a wallet lying on the road next to it.
    Noah reached over and snatched the wallet from the pavement. He flipped it open, reading the name on the license inside.
    “Benjamin McDonald,” he muttered.
    The address was nearly identical to Caddy’s. He glanced at the hybrid, then back at the thing on the ground. The creature had pulled itself onto its elbows and was sliding across the pavement, scraping open fresh layers of skin to get to him. Noah retreated several steps.
    In his mission to get to the truck, he’d accidentally found Isabelle’s father.
    Had they been together at one time? Had they separated? He doubted the creature was cognizant, but either way, seeing it crippled struck a chord in him.
    Nobody deserved this. Neither the man nor his family.
    Noah reached into his belt and removed a kitchen knife he’d brought from Caddy’s. The creature continued to crawl toward him, eyes glazed.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    He raised the knife over his head and rammed it into the creature’s skull.

    The roads were starting to look familiar. According to Caddy, Noah’s truck was only a few miles west of her house. He was getting close.
    All around him were tall oaks and pines,