Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (6 page)

Events forced Marcy and Macy to learn how to drive. It had been weeks now, and they were tired of waiting for their dad to show up. They’d discovered their mom dead from the virus the night before last after they broke into her bathroom and found her on the floor. Their mom had locked herself away so as not to expose the girls, but even with the virus all around, in their house, in the air, neither one of them became ill. They moved her dead body to her bed. They each took one end, stopping several times; Mom weighed more than they had expected. Of course, they were both slight, though at fifteen the twins told each other they were really quite strong.

Afterward they washed Mom’s face with a cool washcloth and pulled the covers over her. Not certain what else to do, they admitted the time had come to make their way to Dad’s house. They took turns calling him, but he never answered. This was not new to them, so they kept at it.

“He has to answer at some time, right?” Marcy asked her sister.

So many were dead in their neighborhood, and with Mom gone now they were getting really scared. After crying themselves to sleep, they woke to a new reality. Dad lived at the apartments in Issaquah. To get there they would have to drive down the highway, a trip they had done many times before as passengers. So they pulled their mother’s keys out of her purse. “She would want Dad to take care of us now,” Macy said.

The Williamses, who had lived next door, were gone—or at least no one had answered when they knocked the day before. They did not hear anyone anywhere except for the dog packs. Not only that, but late the previous night they had been awakened by loud yelling from the street outside. The girls went downstairs and looked out the front windows, where they witnessed a man running down their road with several dogs chasing him. He screamed and screamed as he ran out of their view. More screaming came after that, and then silence. The girls clung to one another, too afraid to open the door. They were not sure what happened to the man. After the quiet had come finally, they cried themselves to sleep again, this time on the living room sofa.

Too scared even to go to the bathroom alone, the twins made the decision to head over to their dad’s place by themselves. Considering the circumstances, they did not think he’d mind them trying to drive. “This constitutes an emergency,” Marcy said, justifying their plan. And in an emergency, new rules are made.”

They had seen Mom and Dad do this plenty of times, so how hard could it be? Since they’d probably stay at Dad’s for a while, they both packed overnight bags. They’d both slept late, so they tried to hurry, because they wanted to make it to Dad’s before nightfall.

Macy suggested that she should drive first, to which Marcy said, “You know how it works. We have to play rock-paper-scissors.”

Macy rolled her eyes but started the ritual anyway. Their old ceremonial game seemed childish to her now, but it was how they has always resolved disputes. Having an identical twin had some drawbacks. Marcy was bossier, and Macy figured it was not worth the ensuing battle to point out that they were old enough now to make their own decisions.

Macy decided on rock, and Marcy, of course, paper. “You always win,” Macy grumbled. Sometimes she thought Marcy could read her mind. Was it not enough that they mirrored each other, with blue eyes and blond, wavy hair? It just was not fair, but perhaps that’s what had kept them alive and together. Macy felt ashamed of herself for being upset with her sister. It would indeed kill her, too, if Marcy died of the virus and left her all alone.

Marcy grabbed the keys out of Macy’s hand and they walked out to the attached garage, making sure the car doors were closed before they let the garage door up. Adjusting the seat so that her feet could just touch the pedals, Marcy checked to see if she could see out the rearview mirror.

“Put your seatbelt on, Mace, this might be bumpy,” she said.

Before Marcy could start the ignition, Macy advised, “You have to move that stick to
R
, like Mom does.”

“I know, I watch her too—
watched
her, I mean,” Marcy said, a small crack in her voice. She turned the key, hearing it complain far too loudly, and then removed her hand. “Oh, I think it’s on now,” she said. Then she moved the stick to
R
, but nothing happened. “Okay, what do we do to make it go?” she asked Macy.

“You have to use the pedals. I think the left one is the brake and the right one is the gas. Try putting your foot on the gas a little,” Macy said.

Barely pressing the pedal on the right, she could hear the engine get louder, but the car didn’t move, so she eased up on the pedal. Macy noticed the other handle next to the drive stick. “This is the parking brake, I think.” She reached over and pushed the button to lower the lever. Then they started sliding backward down the sloped driveway. Marcy screamed, and Macy yelled, “Hit the brake!”

As Marcy stomped on the brake, both girls lurched forward, nearly hitting the dashboard. Shaking now, they looked out the window, having just barely reached the road. Macy noticed an audience of a single curious boxer dog, sitting on his haunches, panting. At first glance the dog looked like any of the once-beloved neighborhood pets. She’d seen this one on a leash walking with its owner many times before.

Then she noticed another dog and shouted, “Look, they’re coming! Quick—close the garage door so they can’t get in!”

The garage door closed just in time. A blood-stained Akita showed up, baring his teeth at the girls. The noise encouraged his entourage to do the same, and even the docile boxer joined in. “Time to go,” Marcy said, lifting her foot off the brake. The car slid back as the dogs went from a low growl to ferocious barking that caused the girls to scream again. Then, remembering the brake pedal, Marcy pressed it again, but this time not so hard. Macy reached over and began to spin the steering wheel to move the car into the road, like their mom used to do.

With dogs trailing behind them and jumping up at the windows, Macy pushed the shifter from
R
to
D
and yelled at Marcy, who was too distracted by a German shepherd snarling at her window to press the gas pedal.

“Press the gas, Marcy!” she yelled, trying to get her attention again. Some part of Marcy heard her, and she stomped on the gas as Macy tried to steer from the passenger’s seat. The dog pack chased them down the road, but soon gave up since more accessible prey was available.

“Slow down!” Macy yelled, and Marcy let off the gas halfway. Thankful that the road was clear of many obstacles, they soon approached a stop sign.

“Mom made this look so easy,” Marcy said as she pressed the brakes again, stopping them fifteen feet before the sign. This time they only leaned forward a little when she applied the brakes.

“This just takes practice, Marce,” Macy said. “Just move up a little more so we can turn onto the main road.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Marcy shouted. “You try to do this for the first time with wild dogs trying to get you. I just saved your life, Mace, so you should be grateful instead of giving me a hard time about it.”

“I was not giving you a hard time, Marcy. I’m just trying to help!” Macy yelled back.

Approaching the stop sign, Marcy removed her foot from the gas pedal and stomped the brake again. They both flew forward sharply and then back again.

“Marcy! Not so hard.”

“Sorry!” yelled Marcy, clearly frustrated about this driving thing.

With Marcy’s foot easing off the brake pedal, the Grand Am glided slowly forward. This time Marcy employed her newly learned technique of softly applying pressure to the brake. Both girls leaned forward, turning their blond curls left and then right in unison, checking for oncoming cars; they’d seen their parents do this many times. Since there no cars, Marcy turned the wheel, not paying attention to the lines on the road. Her driving was simply an effort to stay on the road, and being in the middle just seemed like a good idea. The farther they got into town, the more cars they’d have to dodge anyway. If one did come the other way, she figured she would pull over then.

Macy checked behind. No more dogs followed them. Turning back to face front, she knew there were a few straight miles ahead of them before they got to the highway turnoff. She began to look around. Up ahead, the first stop light intersection came into view and there were cars stopped in one lane, even though the light had turned green.

Marcy slowed down as the lane divided, one for going straight, the other for turning. She came to a stop, trying to assess the situation. They waited behind a gray SUV at the green light. They had rehearsed this scenario many times in the past and both girls thought the car should have started moving by now, but it did not.

“Honk the horn,” Macy suggested as the idea came to her.

Marcy studied the steering wheel, looking for the right thing to press. She finally noticed the horn icon and pressed it, allowing the intrusive sound to disturb the afternoon silence all around them. Birds flew up in haste along the street side.

Once the sound had dissipated into the late afternoon horizon, Macy put the drive stick back into
R
. Marcy then depressed the gas pedal and they rolled backward several car lengths. After applying gentle pressure to the brakes again, to keep herself and her sister from flopping around like ragdolls, Marcy came to a complete stop. Macy moved the drive stick to
D
again and Marcy rotated the steering wheel left and pressed the gas pedal a little to pass the parked car.

Slowing as they passed the SUV, Macy could see the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Though the girls could not see the face, they both knew what had happened; and now reality was settling in.

“I hope Dad’s okay,” Macy said, never having thought of the possibility that he, too, could have become a victim of the virus.

Driving through the intersection that led to the highway entrance ramp, the girls noticed several cars in the way. As Marcy snaked their car through, it scraped a Suburban; the horrible screeching continued as the Grand Am forced itself through the space between the other car and the guardrail.

Marcy continued to wind her way, having somewhat gotten the hang of this driving thing by now and squeezing between parked cars. Macy sat high in her seat to help navigate ahead until the cars became so crowded that there was no longer much space between them.

Marcy, unsure of the next direction to take, killed the engine. After scouting around the area for dogs, Macy rolled down her window. She pulled herself through the narrow opening to stand on the windowsill, gaining a better view of what lay ahead. With wide eyes she returned to the passenger seat and rolled up her window.

“What? What’s out there?” asked Marcy.

“The road’s blocked, we can’t get through this way. We’re stuck, Marcy. We’ll have to walk from here.”

“No! What about the dogs?” Marcy asked. How could Macy have forgotten them so quickly?

“That’s what I’m saying. We can’t stay in the car. There are big concrete barriers up ahead with police cars on the other side with their lights on. We’re not going to make it this way,” Macy said.

Sitting in silence, both girls tried to solve the dilemma, knowing they did not want to leave the safety of the car.

“I think we should take our stuff, leave the car here, and walk to the barricade. Climb over and see if there is a car on the other side that we can take. The road is clear over there,” Macy said.

Marcy’s jaw dropped. “We can’t steal a car. Are you crazy? You can go to jail for that. The police are over there. Maybe they can take us the rest of the way.”

“Marce, things are different now. Look around you. We’ll leave a note or something to let the owner know that we’re borrowing it. This is an emergency and, like you said, we have to make new rules now. They’ll understand. They’re probably dead by now anyway. In fact, we haven’t seen anyone alive since that guy ran from the dogs last night, remember? It’ll be okay. Dad can explain it to them if the police come. Or if someone’s alive in the car, we’ll ask them to take us to Dad’s, okay?”

Pausing in the silence to give it a little more thought, Marcy conceded. “Well, I can’t think of anything else better, so let’s get started. The sooner we get to Dad’s, the better.”

As the twins gathered their belongings, Marcy said, “We need something to fight with in case those dogs come at us again.”

Looking around in the car for potential weapons, they came up with an ice scraper on the floor by the backseat and Macy’s metal ruler. She’d been looking for it a while back; it must have dropped out of her backpack.

Then Macy lowered her window once again and scouted out the easiest path of escape through the cramped cars ahead. She saw a few places they’d likely have to climb over bumpers while they wound their way to the concrete barrier.

Climbing back into the car, she said, “Okay, it should not be too hard. Just follow me and we’ll run as fast as we can. Stay close and don’t make any noise. We don’t want to attract the dogs’ attention.” She added a second thought. “You need to come out my side since you don’t have any room over there. Don’t slam the door, just push it in softly.”

“Okay, that sounds like a good plan. How far is it?” Marcy asked, scared.