It’s not the first time she’s won and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Our winner again this week is the lovely and talented Nicole, @nicolewolverton. I always love her stories. Here it is again for you to enjoy as well.
Lemon stared out the windshield. The hazy sky beyond the glass streaked red, orange, and green across the horizon. Even now she thought her house might be just around the corner if she wished hard enough.
“Where to now?” Chelsea asked. The girl drew up her knees, resting her chin on top.
“Whatever you want.” It didn’t matter. No place was safe.
“Maybe Bloomsburg? The college dorms probably have some food left in them. If we look hard enough, there’s bound to be some booze someone left behind.”
The sign on route 11 announced the exit for the town in less than half a mile. Lemon glanced at the gas gauge. They were still good . . . for now. “Yeah, okay. But you know there’s a hoard that’s captured the downtown area, right?”
“I hadn’t heard.” Chelsea sighed. “Our radio died five months ago.”
Lemon had found the girl hiding in a grocery store, holed up in a walk-in freezer and surrounded by cases of Twinkies and Spam. It had taken four days to get the story out of her, and it hadn’t been pretty. The corpses of her brother and mother hadn’t been pretty, either, but that was a story for another day.
“We can still go . . . we just have to be prepared.”
Chelsea nodded and unfolded her body. Lemon kept her eyes on the road, but when she came to the bottom of the off-ramp, she stopped the car and rolled up the window. Her passenger handed her a netted helmet and clutched a smoker. She nodded again. “I’m ready.”
Lemon pursed her lips and eased the car forward. With each block, the buzzing grew louder. Honeycombs wedged into every crevice. Bees the size of mailboxes buffeted the car from every side.
“I really hate bees,” Lemon said through gritted teeth.
“They hate you, too,” Chelsea seethed, smacking Lemon with the smoker and rolling down her window.