…

Before I know what's happening, we load back into the van, my father in the passenger's seat, Peter behind the wheel, Jonah scrunched on the other side of the backseat, avoiding me, Meghan between us, and the angel laid across us, still unconscious. Meghan, concerned about her state of unconsciousness, tells us we need to make her as comfortable as possible. Her head again finds its way onto my lap.

We drive on, my father directing Peter where the Y is. The goods we picked up at Ayo's Zombie Hotel's goodshouse are secured in the back of the van, the tank filled with gasoline. I don't ask how much my father managed to weasel out of Charlie, but I'm sure he fared well.

Meghan doesn't mention the angel's state of recovery, so I decide not to either. I'm just glad to be back on her good side. Although I do wonder—if she's better, why isn't she waking up? How long has she been unconscious like this? For all we know, it's been days—maybe up to a week.

Stop being dramatic, I tell myself, look out the window. That's what my father used to tell me when my family went on long car rides. Sherlock and I would get restless and bicker, and my mother would close her eyes really tight, like she didn't want to be there. Then my father would tell us to shut up and look out of our windows.

I'm smiling at the memory, and I look down and my hands are gently playing with the angel's hair. Stop calling her an angel, I scold myself. Her name is probably something like Tammy or Teagan or Tiffany. Something with a T.

I look out the window again, trying to feel the sunshine through the window. As we pass by an old church, there's a Zed chained outside, to the steps. The church sign reads, "God Is Lost."

…

A succession of dull thumps drags me from my sleep. There's drool on my chin and that slight headache-y feeling you get from sleeping in a moving car. My mouth is disgustingly dry, and my stomach is churning with either hunger or illness, I can't tell. The van continues to bump, and as I look out the window, I see we're surrounded by Zeds. The only difference between me and the Zeds outside is a piece of glass and my knives.

"Jonah," my father says, and my uncle nods in reply. Meghan and I scoot together, sheltering the angel. He flips back the latch installed on the sunroof and clambers up, using the two front headrests as a boost. His boots leave small crumbs of dirt.

The van is still in motion, but Jonah is undeterred. Shots are fired, and looking out the window, Zeds fall like dominoes, each hit directly in the head. Loads fall, and the van still –thumps- when we hit one.

A click from above. Another click. "Fuck," he mutters. "I'm out," he announces, down into the sunroof. He then slides down through it, and my father nods at Peter this time.

"Me? I don't—"

"Go."

The sunroof slides open and out he goes, shooting away. Zeds are still falling and the van creeps along. Peter's not as good a shot as Jonah, and the Zeds are reaching up at him on the roof. A young woman with fiery red hair and a pink waitress outfit and no eyes gasps against my window, leaving no fog because of her lack of breath. Her dead saliva coats the window soon.

I can't see anything, but we hear a big thud from the roof, and Peter screams in terror. His scream is high and awful, like a caged animal. My father rushes to shut the sunroof, and it's closed tight and locked in seconds. More thuds follow, and then banging on the sunroof door.

"Let me in, please! For God's fucking sake! Please, please, ple— "

Silence fills the van and the moans of the Zeds outside seem more insistent, louder. I reach for Meghan's hand and squeeze it. She squeezes back, but not as strongly as I expected.

…

We're still outside the Y, but the Zed count is thicker and there's no way to get in. Also, how the fuck did they jump all the way to the roof? My hands are shaking, I need something to do, some busywork. I look down at the angel, making sure she's safe. At least she wasn't awake.

I can't tell if what my father did was right or wrong. I don't know. I don't know anything. My head is spinning a little, the car seems to be bouncing and my heart is racing. I feel like I'm going to throw up, but I close my eyes, and breathe deeply, feeling the shaking of my arms and chest.

"Are you all right?" Meghan asks. I feel guilty because she's asking me how I'm doing. She shouldn't. I should be the one comforting her but I'm a shit niece. I'm a shit human being.

"I'm. I'm fine." I can't open my eyes because I know I'll throw up.

"No, you're not. Aeowyn?"

"I just…it's like the Seven Days all over again. I hate it. I need to…just let me…" I need to collect myself, to breathe fresh air, to get the fuck out of the van.

"Shh, shh. It's all right." She holds me close, making sure not to move the girl, and I can't help but think about how Dean and Clint will react when we come home without Peter.

…

My father ends up driving around to the back, finding Zeds surrounding the building. They're packed everywhere, moaning and slick with blood and entrails, a thick stench penetrating the van somehow. Some of them are notably faster than the others. These Zeds are ahead of the group. Some Zeds are on all fours, panting and groaning like sick dogs, holding human parts in their mouths.

After getting some distance, Meghan and I trade places. Jonah and Meghan roll down their windows and shoot like hell, aiming for the brain. I try to concentrate on just the angel. If she can make it, I can make it. We can make it.

Magically, we gain some room for entrance. My father opens up the van doors, quickly. The faster Zeds clamor for attention and food, quickening their pace. Jonah and Meghan help each other with the cargo, and I hold the angel gently in my arms. My arms struggle to keep her, if I can only reach the door before they give out. If I run as fast as I can the Zeds won't get her.

I laugh. I run and I laugh and it reverberates around the parking lot as I race against the Zeds and the fear and the adrenaline and the only thing keeping me running, the only thing keeping me afloat is this fragile angel in my arms. My legs collapse as I reach the door, and I fall, making sure to shield her from my landing. Hands from inside wrap around me and everything goes dark.

…

I awake in a bed. I shouldn't be in bed, I should be helping—

I try and get up, but an excruciatingly painful migraine pushes me back onto my pillow and I let out a tired groan. What is wrong with me now?

My father appears in the doorway/ "Aeowyn." He sounds stern.

"Dad. I—"

"We've already distributed the supplies."

"Where's—"

"Next to you." I look and to my relief, she's laying there, eyes closed.

"Aeowyn." He sounds angry, so I listen. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you need to be strong when we're out. I'm not going to bring you if you can't pull your weight on trips. Get your act together."

"Dad, I don't know what's going on. I got scared and I—"

"Then don't get scared." He turns and leaves.

I bring my hands up to my face and moan. Isn't it normal to be scared? I mean, Zeds are trying to eat the flesh off my bones and he expects me to just—I don't know. I never want to be like him.

"Fucking dickweed."

I start. "What?" I look around.

"I said, 'fucking dickweed.'" I turn and the angel is sitting up in her bed.

Her eyes are a sharp, deep green.

…