The smoky barbecue smell drifted through the trees, mixing with the scents of earth and pine.
"I don't know how I'm gonna survive this, Ellie," said a blonde girl in sunglasses before she took a long drag of her cigarette, "It's only been two weeks and I already want to kill myself."
Ellie, a girl who looked exactly like her, besides the fact that she was dressed much more appropriately for camping, rolled her eyes, "That's because you're not doing anything. You just sit around smoking all day. This is supposed to be a distraction, not a chance to mope around."
The first girl made a frustrated sound, before stretching up her arms and flopping from her sitting position to lie back on the foliage-covered ground, "I hate Georgia."
"We'll keep moving tomorrow. We could get to Orlando by dinner if the traffic's good."
"Screw that," she said, taking another drag, "Let's just go back home."
"LA's even further away."
"No, I mean, let's find a boat somewhere and go back home. We don't need those idiots in Hollywood," she sat up and pushed her sunglasses onto her head, so her sister could see how bloodshot her eyes were, "I miss mum, and Aunt Peggy and Uncle Ben."
Ellie studied her for a moment before turning back to the barbecue and flipping the pieces of chicken, "We can't, Emily. We've got jobs to hold down."
Emily sighed, pulling her sunglasses back over her eyes, "Yeah, and appearances to keep up, I get it. The paps would have a field day with our escape from the country."
They fell back into a comfortable silence, listening to the breeze that made the leaves whisper, and the sizzling of the chicken. Ellie was so absorbed in cooking the meal that when Emily suddenly leapt to her feet, she jumped so much she almost dropped the chicken on the floor.
"Crap, Em. You scared me to death. What's wrong?"
"Shhh," Emily hissed, looking around like someone was going to jump out of nowhere and make a grab for them, "Did you hear that?"
Ellie frowned, "No, I didn't hear anything. What was it?"
Emily chewed her lip, like she always did when she was concentrating hard. After a moment, she shook her head and the tension fell from her body, "Nothing. It was nothing. I'm gonna go pee."
"Alright. Be careful."
Emily raised an eyebrow, "What? Scared I'll fall and sprain an ankle or something?"
They shared identical smiles before Emily wandered off into the woods, still smoking her cigarette. She was barely gone two minutes when Ellie heard the screaming. Only, it wasn't Emily's voice; it was a man's. Barbecue forgotten, she jumped to her feet and ran.
Around the corner from the camp, she froze at the scene in front of her. The man who had screamed was barely a man. He was barely even an adolescent. But she knew what he was straight away, by the heavy-duty camera that had fallen to the floor beside him. He was paparazzi. He was paparazzi who was getting his stomach gnawed on by another person.
But this person wasn't normal. Its clothes were shredded, filthy and blood-splattered. The skin of its arms was peeled and torn, revealing bits of muscle and bone, and it was so taut that it looked like the bone might burst through it. The monster was so intent on its meal that it didn't even notice her arrival, but the boy did.
He stared at her, his eyes wide with agony, and his mouth hung open in what was now a silent scream. With what seemed to be all of his energy, he lifted a trembling arm from the ground to her. He made a noise but it came out sounding like a guttural gurgle.
Slowly, she lifted a branch from the floor. She was lucky that it was a big one with a sharp point, because it was the only weapon she had. She stepped forward.
The boy tried to shake his head, frantically.
"Run," he choked, and then coughed up blood, "Run."
The monster turned, and the branch fell from Ellie's hand. It wasn't a person. Not anymore. Patches of its face were rotted away, and a large chunk was missing out of its left cheek. Whatever it was, it wasn't a living thing. Nothing could survive with injuries like that. It was dead.
Mouth dripping with gore, it made an ambling movement towards her. She didn't know what to do. Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Its rotting fingers stretched out to her. She was going to die. She was going to be killed by a dead thing.
A scream tore through the woods, and in an instant, her frozen state vanished, and she was running. She could hear the monster stumbling after her, but it couldn't keep up and soon vanished amongst the trees.
When she found her sister, it was almost too late. Another of the monsters, this time what had once been a woman, was practically on top of her, groaning hungrily as its mouth snapped at Emily's neck. Emily had found a solid branch to block her, but the weight was getting too much, and Ellie could see her arms trembling with the weight of holding the monster away from her.
She didn't even think about it. One moment, she was on the other side of the clearing, and the next, the monster lay at her feet with its brain oozing out of a hole in its skull. Ellie dropped the rock. She stared at what she had just done.
She killed it. Ellie had just killed an almost-living thing. She hadn't meant to. She hadn't wanted to. But it was going to kill her sister, and there was no way she was going to let it. Instinct had taken over, and she couldn't even remember how everything had happened, but now whatever it was, was definitely dead.
Emily was breathing hard as she climbed to her feet, tears running down her face.
"What the fuck was that thing?" she yelled, voice shaking.
Ellie's mouth had suddenly gone very dry. She couldn't swallow.
"I thought it was some pervert fan or something having a peek while I peed, but then it came at me and it was doing that horrid moaning thing, and I saw it – I thought she was dressed up. I laughed at her. And then – what the fuck was it?"
Ellie's hands were trembling. Her whole body was trembling. She couldn't breathe. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped out of her skin.
"Hey, Elle, it's okay," Emily's voice was gentler than she was used to. It reminded her of the last time she's heard it all those years ago when they stood at the foot of their mother's hospital bed. "You saved me. You saved my life."
And then they clung to each other, crying, and they held on for as long as they dared in that dangerous new world they found themselves in.
"Let's get out of here," Emily said when they became anxious of more noises in the trees, and they walked as fast they could back to their campsite. When they got there, they packed everything into the back of their van and got the hell out of there.
"We are receiving word from various states that the epidemic has blown wildly out of proportions. We suggest that you stay inside where you can, unless told otherwise by your local authorities. Please stay safe until help arrives."
Every radio station was the same. Panic everywhere. The last thing the twins had heard of it before they set off on their road trip was just from what they had heard through small news items about some new disease. But then, they had more important things to worry about at the time, so they paid no attention. And then they disappeared into the wild for their publicity break, and apparently a lot could happen in two weeks. The disease had taken over all of America, and maybe even the entire world. They had no way of knowing since the radio stations didn't mention the other countries, and their phones had no signal.
"Shit, shit, shit," Ellie muttered, pressing the redial button for the hundredth time, "Still nothing."
"It's gonna be okay, Elle, we'll find somewhere safe and contact people there. They'll be fine, you know they will."
She wasn't so sure. Her family wasn't exactly known for coping well under stress. She had been trying to contact their aunt and uncle for the past half hour, and nothing had happened. All she got was static.
Emily glanced over at her from the steering wheel. Although the van technically belonged to Ellie, Emily had taken the driver's seat because Ellie had been shaking so much. She still hadn't fully recovered from killing that thing. Emily reached over and squeezed her hand, "They've got people to look after them. They won't let them get hurt."
That was true. If money could pay for anything in the wake of chaos and panic, it was protection. And they had a lot of it. But she only relaxed for a moment before dialling in another number.
"I'm gonna call Kate and Ash, see if they're alright." Kate and Ashley were married, and their best friends over in Los Angeles. They'd met them on their first day in the big city, and they'd been close ever since. Ashley also happened to be Emily's manager, so she was always the first person they called in a crisis.
But still, the phone was useless. It wasn't only the international connection that was broken. They had no way of knowing if anyone they loved was still breathing.
"Several cities in Georgia are currently overrun with the diseased," the speaker of the current radio station announced, and Emily and Ellie looked at each other in dread. "However, we are hearing word of a military-set-up refugee centre in Atlanta, accessible via the Interstate 85. The government is urging everyone who is able to evacuate their homes and get their families safe to this building."
They breathed out in relief. There was a safe place, after all. And maybe they would have phone signal there. Or, even better, wi-fi.
"Atlanta's about an hour from here," Ellie said, rifling through a compartment to find their map, "If the traffic's good, that is."
The traffic was not good. For the first fifteen minutes they were okay, but the closer they got, the slower they were forced to drive as the highway became packed with cars all travelling in the same direction. Another fifteen minutes later, they were forced to stop, caught in the middle of a completely unmoving traffic jam.
For half an hour they waited, but when things were still frozen, people became restless. People climbed out of their cars to stretch their legs and chat to their neighbours. Reluctant to leave the security of their van, yet craving the fresh, open air, Emily and Ellie stepped out, too. They both wore large hats and sunglasses, just in case.
Ellie tried her phone again.
"It's useless, you know," a voice said from behind her, making her jump. When she turned around, a large, black man spoke to her with a friendly smile, "The transmitters haven't been working properly for the last week. No one's cell phones work anymore."
He held out his hand, "Theodore Douglas. My friend's call me T-Dog. This here's Glenn."
The man beside him looked barely in his twenties, and he wore a hat that made her think of pizza delivery boys. He nodded at her, and then she saw the dreaded recognition in his eyes.
"Hey," he said, "You're famous."
"Well, um, actually," she hated moments like this. The truth was, she wasn't the famous twin; that was Emily. But everyone still knew who she was. She was famous by association of blood, not only with her sister, but also with her parents. Which made moment like this incredibly awkward. She cleared her throat and carried on as if he hadn't said anything. "I'm Eleanor Locket. This is my sister, Emily."
Emily nodded at them, suddenly back to her usual grumpy attitude.
T-Dog looked between them and the recognition flitted on in his eyes, too, "Aw, hey, I know where I've seen you. You were in that film with the spies, you played the hot chick who shot all those guys."
Emily nodded, and lit a cigarette.
He turned to Ellie, "I didn't know you had a twin. You her stunt double, or something?"
Ellie laughed, "Definitely not."
There was a low whistle, and another voice joined the conversation.
"Looky here, brother. Identical twins! Ain't that somethin'?"
The voice was wheezy and very southern. He sounded as though he had a few teeth missing, and when the girls turned to him, they found him grabbing his crotch.
Ellie scoffed in disgust while Emily simply blew out a puff of smoke as if it was all part of the job. Beside the man, was a younger man with light brown messy hair, wearing a vest and khakis. Ellie's eyes were instantly drawn to his arm muscles, which seemed to pulse with tension. When she dragged her eyes away, she found him looking back at her and turned away quickly, feeling her face heat up in a violent blush.
"Tell me somethin'," the man continued, "If yer identical, is everythin' about ya the same?"
"That's what identical means, arsehole," Emily muttered.
The man's face lit up, "What accent's that, anyway? Yer British, too? British twins? Thank god for the apocalypse, eh? It's my lucky day!"
"Hey, back up, man, have some respect," T-Dog said, stepping in.
Immediately, the man's face clouded over into a look of disgust and Ellie saw just what kind of man he was, "Don't ya dare talk to me, ya disgustin'—"
"Stop," Ellie stepped between them and spoke to the man, putting on her best calm voice that she used whenever Emily got into one of her states, "Why don't you go back to your car and cool off for a while, hmm?" She was close enough to him to smell the weed, and knew that he was going to be more trouble than she could handle if he hung around, and not just because of his blatant racism.
He was silent as he looked her up and down, his eyes staying on her breasts just long enough to make her uncomfortable before he looked over her shoulder at T-Dog, "Fine. Come on, brother." They turned around, but he glanced back over his shoulder at the twins before they disappeared, "See ya around, princess."
To which of them he was talking, they didn't know, and they didn't want to know. Ellie had no plans of seeing him around any time soon. She leaned against her van, exhausted. "Bastards," she said.
"Arseholes," Emily agreed.
"Jerks," said T-Dog.
"Douchebags," Glenn commented. They grinned. Despite it being the end of the world, after two weeks of self-inflicted isolation, it was nice to be able to talk to people.