If there was one thing that Zuhair hated, it was driving. Driving was tedious, boring, yet also caused his blood pressure to spike with anxiety with every car passed or intersection with fear with any and all possibilities. There could be an accident, no more fuel, burst tires, or a thousand other things that could possibly happen while on the road. The empty road only illuminated by the light of his car's headlights while rain pounded against the car only increased the stress he was feeling currently.
A yawn came from his mouth, trying to focus on the road. It was nearly eleven, but he had been up since six in the morning. He knew he needed to sleep, and sleep soon. So, pulling over to the side of the road, a large yawn escaped his mouth, along with some stretching from his neck. The pouring water from the sky might be able to help with the cleansing of his body for Isha'a, although he was saddened he had forgotten his prayer mat.
Stepping outside of the car caused his face to immediately be pelted by rain, although it was nothing unusual from what he was used to. He knew where the northern star was, and where the sun rose, which helped with prayer. Cleansing his body to the best of his abilities, he began his prayer, although it felt disingenuous. He hoped it would help with his worry, but at least before his mind was solely focused on the road.
Even as his old jumpsuit was ruined by the rain, mud began to cake the lower portions of it, his mind thought of only one person. It was hard to believe that Paul was already old enough to be an employee at the shop, feeling as though it was only yesterday that a young boy stuck to him and Jakob like glue. Almost made a man feel old seeing someone Paul's age being fully committed to the business.
Though he most definitely felt old now from thinking back to a time before the undead were rising from the ground. Paul should be sleeping in a nice bed back home, not in the passenger seat of a car. Zuhair should be trying to fill out orders for parts, not fleeing the small Georgian town his livelihood was in. Jakob would… Zuhair shook his head, digging his way out of that damnable thought process.
Walking back to the car and crawling into the driver's seat, he turned towards the young man to his right. Paul was out cold, hand still clutched to the science fiction novel he was reading. An old and dirty hoodie was worn, 'Frost-Said Plumbing' was still visible on both the front and back. Where once it was well kept and short, his ragged hair tended to obstruct his eyes and skin pale as a ghost. Despite the look of someone roughing it on the streets, it was a look which comforted Zuhair in that they managed to survive long enough for the unkempt look to appear.
Still, it was a better look than what he was sporting. Torn jumpsuit, bloodshot eyes, and bandages wrapped around his right arm. Had the rain not washed the blood covering him off, it would be an easy assumption to think of Zuhair as one of them. He'd rather any new people they meet not be extremely keen on immediately killing them. Still, he needed to rest before thinking of what to say to new people, and so he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him.
—
Paul awoke with a crick in his neck, and morning sun greeting him to another day. Stretching to the best of his abilities, eyes began to shift to Zuhair, standing out in the mud surrounding the road and praying. He didn't remember much from last night, too engrossed in his copy of Life, The Universe, and Everything to process what was going on around him. The escape was nice, but now the real world called for his attention.
Stepping out of the car, the teen made his way to the trunk of the car, opening it to grab the calendar and mark another day out. It's been two months, two months of living in the car and two months of mostly speaking only to Zuhair. He was getting stir crazy, especially with how long they've spent on the road. It grated on him to admit it, but he was missing that studio apartment he had gotten with mold in the walls and enough bed bugs to swing a wrench at.
The main question currently was where to go. Atlanta was a massive city filled with people before, and considering the military tried to set up an evac zone there would mean even more people infected. If one heads to the countryside, there won't be much to live off of there. Paul was easily able to admit he did not know much about countryside living, and he doubted that his old friend knew anything more than he. Which leaves the continued scavenging in the suburbs, where less food and fuel was turning up as the days passed.
Every option only led to death, and Paul was not happy about it. The more he thought, the bleaker it all became. Instead, all he could do was give a sigh and patiently think until he was shaken out of it by the sound of a door closing, gray hair visible in his peripheral vision.
"We should be able to reach Atlanta soon, provided the roads continue to remain clear," there was still hope in his voice, something that Paul found comforting, if naive. "Don't tell your father when we find him, but I think the end of the world might actually improve his cooking."
Paul bit down on his teeth, keeping his face in composure. He hadn't thought about his Father's cooking in weeks, and at the very least there are certain things that he does not miss from before. You know, he hated his apartment, and the job was not the most pleasant smelling thing in the world… Maybe the chomps did the world some good after all.
"Well, we still have to reach Atlanta, and I've been driving for the whole damn night. Might be a good idea for you to get some practice in anyways, alright Paul?"
No more words needed to be exchanged as both got out of the car and swapped places, with Zuhair quickly falling asleep and Paul beginning to drive through the old road, following the road until it emptied into an empty road with the other filled with cars leaving Atlanta. Leaving. That's what bothered him the most about this plan. If there truly was safety there, they wouldn't be leaving.
Still, anything they might do is gonna get them killed anyhow, just depends on how slow it is. At least with Atlanta, they might die fast, fast enough to where they might not even become those chomps. Although, it might be easier just to blow his brains out, go out on his own terms. At least it will be quick, and it's not like God is looking out for them anymore.
The desire to scream, shout, do anything rises in Paul's stomach, bile wanting to claw its way out of his stomach and demanding to be let loose upon the steering wheel. Mind flooded with memories, those of father, mother, anything and everything swirling through the head like a bad fever, worse than what those chomps could ever unleash.
In a fit of desperation for anything, Paul turned on the radio scanner on the handheld in hopes of hearing something, anything! He had to do something, but what could he do? Everything led to death, and there was nothing he could do about it. He failed everyone, or did everyone fail him! He couldn't sit like this, he had to act now or everything would collapse!
Drive into the tree, or through the one shambling on the road. Maybe stop the car, fire at them with the rifle, except there's no training unless it's point blank. Point blank is suicide, which is what he should be doing. What the hell could be out there in this world. Everyone is dead other than himself and Zuahir, and how are two plumbers supposed to survive in this new world! This is stupid, smart, and nothing wi-
"-Atlanta on Highway 85. Anyone read, please respond." The voice cuts through Paul's thoughts like a hot knife through butter, snapping him back into reality. He looks briefly into the sky, seeing where once it was barely dawn, now it is most definitely in the morning. His eyes wander to Zuhair, seeing him fast asleep in the car.
"Hello. Hello." He stares at the handheld radio with the voice coming out of it, before turning it on and tapping the radio near where he thinks the mic is twice. He stares at it in quiet contemplation, thinking about what to do. Of either him or Zuhair being awake, it had to be the damn mute!
"Hello, I hear… something. Can you hear me?" tap, tap.
"I can hear tapping on my end, I'm low on fuel and I can use the help. Are you on the highway?" Paul looked around his area, he had just blocked out the past few hours. Tap, tap.
"I can't figure too much out from the tapping, but I'm heading to Atlanta from King County. If you can meet me there, or anywhere on the highway, that would be great." Tap, tap.
With that, Paul turned off the radio, looked around where he was at. He would be coming near, but he didn't have any idea how to signal him, other than tapping. Zuhair needed his beauty sleep, and he can't vocalize in the slightest. Still, at the very least there are others out there. Others who might help the two of them survive to see another day.
For once in a long time, Paul thought there might be a chance of survival. That gave him something that he never once considered having again. Hope, hope for a better tomorrow.
(A/N) - I figure I might as well write this down now rather than explain myself constantly. I know I've been gone awhile, I had simply got burnt out from The Milky Way's Solo, with this having occupied my mind for months before I finally finished writing it. I know my writing may not be the best, along with adding in the fact that the show was first on air when I was still learning my ABCs. Any advice or critique would be appreciated.