It took Wade just a few seconds of seeing people running to know that this was different. They were running away from something terrifying.
He instinctively jogged back to his truck and grabbed his go-bag. The people around him were just starting to realize something was wrong when Wade slammed his truck door and moved up the highway in the opposite direction.
He risked another glance back and finally saw what was causing the chaos. For a moment, his mind refused to process the information his eyes were providing. It lasted only a second, but it felt like he stood there for an hour.
Wade watched as a crowd of people moved around the bend in the highway, a couple of hundred yards back, rushing towards him. A mass of people surging between stalled cars, filling every gap, every lane, rolling over hoods and slamming into doors. People were running away from the crowd, trying desperately to get away.
Even at this distance, about two hundred yards, Wade could see altercations happening at the front of the group. Some of the people that were running away were being overtaken by the mass of people. A woman and her child fell as they desperately tried to get away. They screamed in terror as the first few people from the surging mass jumped on them. Wade blinked and squinted to make sure he was seeing this correctly. It didn’t make sense but it looked like the people were biting the woman and her child.
The screaming was audible now, rising as the wave of people drew nearer.
What in the world is happening?
Wade snapped back to reality, hooked both arms into the straps of his go-bag, and continued moving quickly through the stopped vehicles.
People still in their cars leaned on their horns and tried to force their way forward, but the gridlock held. This section of the highway was elevated over the city, with 10-foot tall, brick and mortar sound walls built just off the shoulder. Wade felt the walls closing in around him as he continued maneuvering through cars. The walls turned the highway into a chute, funneling the mob straight toward him.
A woman in the driver’s seat of her sedan locked eyes with Wade as he made his way through the lane. She cried, “What’s happening?”
He didn’t know how to explain the situation unfolding behind them. “Run!” Wade shouted as he moved quickly through the cars, “They’re attacking people!”
An elderly couple looked at him through the open window of their minivan. Wade urged them to follow, but they looked at him like he was crazy.
Each person he tried to warn stared at him with a sense of bewilderment. He wished he could take the time to explain what he had seen to each of them.
As he moved through the vehicles, he thought about the opposition to his good-natured attempts to warn people. He began to grow self-conscious and wonder whether he might be losing his mind.
He thought again about what he’d seen. Were people actually being attacked? Or had Wade simply assumed so? He wasn’t prone to overreacting, but wasn’t that exactly what he was doing here?
He was able to put some distance between himself and the mob of people, so he slowed and took a moment to catch his breath. A glance back in the direction he had come showed a dark plume of smoke rising along the highway in the distance. Another, larger dark plume of smoke was visible above the large highway walls. It was coming from somewhere within the city. As he watched, more and more people became aware of the danger and began running themselves. A chorus of honking and shouting began to materialize further down the highway. He hadn’t imagined anything. This was definitely real and the panic was spreading.
Wade glanced up at the green highway sign: EXIT 1 MILE
He knew this stretch of the route well. It was the last exit before the city gave way to the mountainous terrain beyond.
He tightened the straps on his go-bag and broke into a hard, purposeful jog. He had to get off this concrete death trap with its suffocating walls and endless rows of stalled vehicles. The thirty-pound pack thudded against his spine with every step, and almost immediately his knees and lower back began to protest at his increased pace. He shoved the pain aside and kept moving.
After two solid minutes of running, he started passing people who stared at him like he’d lost his mind. They hadn’t heard the chaos behind them yet. They didn’t know what was coming.
“Run!” he shouted as he passed. “Get off the highway!”
No one listened.
Ahead, four young adults lounged in camping chairs on the shoulder beside their vehicles, an ice chest planted between them. Traffic had clearly worn down their patience, and they’d decided to make the best of it. For a split second, Wade almost admired the creativity.
As he ran past, he pointed back the way he’d come. “Run! There’s a violent mob coming this way!” They laughed at him and told him to get lost.
There was a break in the sound wall to accommodate the highway off-ramp. He slowed just enough to steady his breathing, forcing air deep into his lungs as he recovered from the strain.
A young couple stepped toward him as he continued walking at a brisk pace, worry written across their faces. “What’s going on?” one of them asked.
“I’m not sure,” Wade replied, still breathing hard. “There’s a mob heading this way and they’re violent. Leave your car and get out of here!”
He didn’t wait to see if they heeded his warning. He pressed on toward the off-ramp.
As he approached the highway exit, he saw one of the reasons for the traffic jam he’d just fought through. Several vehicles had apparently tried to cut across at the last second and take the exit at a high rate of speed. Maybe they’d seen the brake lights ahead and panicked. It looked like four vehicles had collided in a twisted wreck, metal crumpled against the guardrail.
Wade slowed his pace as he jogged by. It looked like several people had been injured and a small crowd was tending to them.
Running on the hard, concrete surface, the extra weight of the bag, and now the downward slope of the off-ramp made his lower back ache. His knees screamed with every step, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. He needed to get clear first. He would deal with the pain later.
At the bottom of the ramp, Wade reached the intersection and looked up and down the street.
He estimated there were triple the number of cars as were usually out on the street, which meant there were triple the amount of pissed off drivers.
“What the hell is going on?” He asked himself as he got to a cross street filled with vehicles that hadn’t made it across the intersection. The light turned green and no one moved. Angry drivers honked and shouted but were unable to move.
Wade kept moving, crossing the street swiftly between vehicles.
The driver of a lifted 4×4 truck had had enough. He pulled his truck up over the median and made a U-turn, heading back the way he had come. Wade turned and watched the truck drive away and wondered how far he would get before encountering another traffic jam like the one here.
Wade’s eyes moved from the truck’s taillights to the large black plume from inside the city. The dark smoke was steadily rising, quickly coloring the blue sky a darker grey.
Wade moved quickly up the street, continuing in the general direction of the highway. He knew that whatever this situation was – whatever the hell was going on – he had to get to get to the cabin. He had to get to Chelsey and the highway was the most direct route there.