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What if Jillian and Lyle stayed together?
🕑 Added 2024-03-30 00:30:43 +0000 UTCJillian stepped closer to Lyle, her boots crunching on the gravel. "I'm going with you."
Lyle shook his head. "It's not safe out there, Jillie. You can't—"
"Don't even try arguing." Jillian snatched the car keys from his hand and jangled them. A sly smile crossed her lips. "I'm following you no matter what. And you're not going anywhere without these."
Lyle's shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine. But we're not taking that piece of junk." He waved a dismissive hand at the sedan. "If the world's ending, I want an upgrade."
The red Porsche 911 cruised down the deserted highway, the roar of its engine slicing through the eerie silence. Jillian gripped the door handle as Lyle took a curve too fast, the tires squealing in protest.
"Slow down, you're gonna get us killed," she shouted.
Lyle just grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure, Jillie-bean?"
A few days later, that initial thrill of scoring the flashy Porsche had faded into a distant memory. They'd managed to put nearly 500 miles between them and their last con, racing across the desert highways of the Southwest with the top down. At first, the wind whipping through Jillian's hair had been exhilarating, a brief return to everyday life before the apocalypse.
But supplies dwindled fast. Gas stations were picked clean, so they'd resorted to siphoning what they could from abandoned vehicles along the road. Food was even scarcer. A few lucky finds in untouched diners and motels allowed them to eat reasonably well those days. But such easy scavenging opportunities became increasingly rare the farther they traveled.
Danger also began lurking around every turn and exit. What had once been stretches of vacant interstate were now littered with stalled cars and walking corpses. More than once, they had to hit the gas to plow through small herds of the undead, splattering their windshield with blood and gore.
The Porsche chose that moment to cough and shudder before sputtering to a pathetic halt on the shoulder, belching black smoke from the hood. Jillian kicked the flat tire in disgust as they gathered their meager belongings - a couple bottles of water, some granola bars, a pistol, and a knife. Their carefree joyride was officially over.
"I told you we should've taken a more practical car," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Lyle waved a dismissive hand. "We'll just have to—"
"Don't give me that nonchalant bullshit!" She jabbed a finger at his chest as they trudged along the highway. "You never plan for anything! We're stranded because you wanted to joyride in that hot rod like the world wasn't ending."
"Calm down, Jillie-be—"
"Don't call me that!" She whipped around, their faces inches apart. "I'm sick of your stupid nicknames!"
Up ahead, an RV idled on the shoulder, tendrils of smoke wafting from the attached grill. Three figures emerged, two men and a woman, all toting menacing firearms. They leveled the guns at the approaching pair.
Lyle flashed a placating smile and raised his hands. "Evening, folks! No need for—"
His voice abruptly shifted to a thick New England accent, the words now clipped and precise. "Evening! Didn't mean to intrude on your meal." He pantomimed a limp, favoring his left leg. "Name's Reginald, this here's my niece, Isabella. Our car broke down a few miles back. You wouldn't happen to have any spare gas, would you?"
The woman, Piper, lowered her rifle slightly, though her expression remained guarded. "No, we have nothing to spare." She jerked her chin toward her companions. "I'm Piper. This is Smitty and Red."
Red and Smitty exchanged a look but didn't protest the introductions.
"Good to make your acquaintance," Lyle said with an affable nod, not breaking character. "As I mentioned, I didn't mean to intrude on your meal there. Isabella and I have been making our way, but our car broke down a few miles back." He gave them a smile.
"Look, I know where you think this might be going, but we've got no room," Smitty said. "We don't take randos with us, so you might as well keep walking."
Lyle shook his head, still smiling. "No trouble at all, my good man. Our destination's only another mile or so down the road."
As they started to skirt around the group, Piper asked, "What destination is that?"
Before Lyle could respond, Jillian piped up, "We're meeting fam--"
Her words cut off abruptly as Lyle suddenly crumpled to the ground, clutching his chest. His face was contorted, twisted in agony.
"Oh god!" Jillian dropped to her knees beside him. "He's having a heart attack! Please, you have to help him!"
Red and Smitty immediately dropped their shotguns, the weapons clattering to the ground as they rushed to Lyle's side. Grabbing him under the arms, they hauled his dead weight between them as agonizing howls tore from his throat. Piper hovered nearby, panic etched across her face, hands trembling on her rifle.
Lyle's anguished cries intensified until his entire body seemed to convulse and spasm violently. In the chaos, Jillian snatched up one of the discarded shotguns, simultaneously shoving Red's rifle away with her boot, the weapon skidding underneath the RV's chassis.
"All right, that's enough!" She aimed the shotgun squarely at the trio's heads. "Everybody, put your hands up and step away from Reginald, now!"
Piper, Red, and Smitty froze, eyes widening in shock and fear at the sudden power shift. Lyle immediately ceased his theatrics, popping up in one fluid motion to relieve Piper of her rifle.
Smitty snarled and aggressively moved toward Jillian, but she didn't hesitate. BOOM! The shotgun blast erupted with an ear-splitting crack, kicking up dirt and gravel a mere few inches from his feet.
"One more step, and you're dead, asshole!" she spat.
The three survivors shrank back, slowly raising their hands in surrender. Lyle tossed Jillian the RV keys, and they quickly boarded the camper, settling into the cab and the engine roaring to life.
As they peeled away, Jillian leaned out the window, mouth carved into a mocking grin as she jeered, "Thanks for the ride, folks!"
She dropped back into the passenger seat, propping her boots defiantly on the dash as Lyle gunned the accelerator. With a triumphant cheer, she grabbed Lyle's face and planted a sloppy, celebratory kiss squarely on his lips.
