What Really Happened: A Memoir from the Apocalypse

Chapter 2: DC

My aunt Andrea arrived at the house with my uncle and cousins. Mom walked outside to meet them. I stood in front of the glass door and listened to their conversation.

Andrea ran to Mom and grabbed her hands. "I heard about... I'm so sorry."

Mom bowed her head and nodded.

"We're headed to DC and you should come with us," Andrea said.

"We can't make that trip," Mom said.

"We have to. I know it's scary, but you can't stay here. Think about the girls. You wanna give them the best chance possible. And sometimes you have to take a chance to do that."

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I pushed my magenta suitcase towards the back of the trunk, and Phoebe sat her Paul Frank backpack next to it.

"How about the boys in one car and the girls in the other?" Andrea suggested.

"I wanna ride with Daddy," Phoebe said.

My uncle Kurt pat her back. "Alright. Phoebe and Chris together and Krista and Mallory together? Sounds like a plan."

Phoebe grabbed Mom's arms. "Mommy, I wanna ride with you too!"

"There's not enough room. Ride with Dad," Mom said.

"We'll be right in front of you. I have the directions," Kurt told Mom.

The Langs always had a weird relationship with us. Andrea and my grandma got into big fights, and those fights broke them apart permanently. Phoebe and I were shielded from a lot of it. My parents decided not to cut off communication with them, and to let them be involved in our lives. We were never around them that much, but whenever it was Phoebe and I's birthday, well, usually a month or two later, Andrea took us out shopping. At least I got ice cream, toys, and candy out of it. I used to call her Auntie Cuckoo, and I still do when she's around, but behind her back I refer to her by her first name, Andrea.

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My cousins Matt and Jeff, Kurt, Phoebe, and Dad were in Dad's car, while Andrea, Mom, and I were in the other. DC was about four hours away from home, and we were planning on just entering the state line and getting directions of where to go from there. Kurt brought his own gun, and the gun from Mimi was in the trunk of our car. I was in the backseat by myself, not shielding my eyes from what I knew I might've seen. I knew I'd rather see it than not see it, because when you know something's out there but your eyes are closed, you feel claustrophobic. Like what's outside your window could reach in to get you at any moment, and you don't know when, because you can't see. Similar to when you're taking a shower and closing your eyes so you won't get shampoo in them, and you're worried there's a spider or a roach crawling out of the drain. At least that's what I used to worry about.

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A few hours later:

By the time we should've made it to DC, we were only halfway there. The people who directed traffic made us stop for about fifteen minutes while each car passed, one at a time. This process happened for what seemed like fifty times.

Andrea texted Matt and Jeff every five minutes. "My texts aren't going through," she said.

Mom fidgeted with her hands as she held them off the wheel. "It's probably because there's no wifi."

My stomach cramped from hunger. "Can we stop for lunch?"

"No," Mom said.

"Why not?"