The Lost Journal Part 2 (A Secret Apocalypse Story) by James Harden Page B

three levels. Around in a circle. Up and
up. I got dizzy. Jack was driving fast. I felt like I was pressed against the
door, unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to do anything.
    We finally
reached the exit. We smashed through a flimsy wooden boom gate and sped out
into the middle of the street. Jack executed a perfect hand brake turn and the
car slid sideways coming to a stop.
    I was
breathing hard, holding on to the door and dashboard. "Maybe slow down?"
    "Sorry, I’ve
always wanted to do that."
    Maria was
looking out the rear windscreen. "Guys, we gotta go. They’re coming."
    The infected
were about half a block away. Chasing hard.
    Jack
released the handbrake and accelerated away. The cop car was fast. The engine
was most likely a V8. Extremely powerful. But we had only driven another two
blocks before Jack slowed. He was trying to figure out which way to go.
    "Um, which
streets were blocked again?" he asked.
    I was
looking left and right. I had no idea. The streets all looked the same to me.
    "Ah guys,"
Maria said. "They’re still coming."
    Jack picked
a direction. He turned the steering wheel hard to the left and floored it once
more.
    Unfortunately
we were unable to full take advantage of the cop car’s V8 engine. The streets
were just too congested. A lot of the streets had been blocked off by the
military. These were cordoned off with concrete barricades and massive piles of
sandbags. The machine gun nests had been abandoned. Most probably they had been
overrun. The heavy machine guns, the 50 cals had been left behind. The military
had even left some of their tanks behind. These enormous machines only added to
the chaos and congestion of the streets.
    There were
huge signs that gave directions for the evacuation routes and the quarantine
areas.
    The streets
that hadn’t been blocked by the military were blocked by abandoned cars and
collapsed buildings. Other streets were completely destroyed by mortar rounds
and bombs and Surface to Air missiles. The destruction made our escape from the
inner city near impossible.
    Eventually
we were funneled to the ‘Cross City Tunnel’.
    It was an
oasis in a ruined city.
    An express
lane out of that hell hole. Or so we thought.
    I don’t know
why we thought it was a good idea. Maybe we were too exhausted and too scared
to think straight. I mean, at that point, after driving around for what felt
like a whole day, we were all convinced that there was no getting out of the
city. Not above ground. So when we found the cross city tunnel, it was like our
prayers had been answered or something. We were blinded to the possibility that
it might not be safe. Even when we voiced those fears out loud, we quickly
pushed them aside and silenced them.
    Basically we
were stupid. And like I said, we should be dead.
    "Cross City
Tunnel," Jack said, reading the street sign. "That’ll lead us out of the city,
to the other side."
    "I don’t
know about this," Maria said. "Going underground? Is that really a good idea?"
    "We don’t
have a choice," I said.
    Jack pointed
to the entrance. There were a few abandoned cars that looked like they had been
pushed off to the side of the road. "Few cars here, but it shouldn’t be too
bad."
    "How do you
even know that?" Maria asked. "We can’t see all the way inside. What if there
are more cars blocking our way further in? What if we can’t get passed? What if
we get trapped in there?"
    "Well think
about it," Jack said. "If they were trying to evacuate people out of the city then
they most probably would’ve used this tunnel and…"
    "Yeah, and?"
Maria asked. "What’s your point?"
    "OK, I don’t
know."
    "It’s all
right," I said. "We can afford to check it out. If the tunnel is blocked we can
come back and keep looking. But I think this is worth a shot. Jack, if what you
say about the tunnel is right, it’ll get us across the worst part of the city and
out on the other side."
    We had to
take the tunnel, I thought to myself. Every other street