"It was always the plane ride home from my business meetings—oh, all those fucking meetings."
"That bad, huh?"
"But when I was a mile high, I'd put on my neck pillow—

"Whoa, hold up. A neck pillow?"

"Yeah, what of it?"
"You sip some wine while you were up there," Charles snarked.
"Least they offered me drinks. Lord knows you'd be caged up with the dogs."

"Cute."

"Anyway," James hopped over a cement barrier, half of it disintegrated, much like the surrounding metropolis. Cars lay dormant, some with their owners' corpses still inside. "It was only a ninety-minute flight. Not even. Amanda would always bust my ass, payin' extra instead of driving, but. I'd stare out that window sometimes and just... space out."
"Your company didn't pay for your travel? Man."
"Greed?" he turned around, arms outstretched. "It's the American dream, baby!"
"More like a fucking nightmare."

"What'd you say you did again?"
"I got paid to take it up the ass." James' arms fell as stunned silence took hold. Before long, he looked impressed.
"Shit, you probably did alright."
"Are you hitting on me?"
"Lotta people were doing that. I mean. Mostly the ladies, but... y'know."
"Do you seriously not remember what I did for a living?"
"Shit, I thought we were talking about our happy places. Heh, well actually, I guess that could be your—

"Delivery man, Jim. Packages. As in actual ones, not some guys' junk."
A dark figure slowly crept up behind the pair, its facial features masked, movements precise.
"Jesus, it's hot."

"We're almost downtown. Only a dozen or so miles to go."
"Remind me why we're not driving again?" James attempted to block out the sun with his hand.
"We can't be the only life left."
"This again?"

"And if someone or... something was to spot us, there'd be hell to pay."
"Look, I get it. Okay? What everyone always joked about happening, happened. Humanity wasn't the least bit prepared. It's very fucking surreal. My family, little Ashlyn and Davey," his voice broke. "But them things been gone, man. Radio silence."
"It only takes one."
"Would you just stop? By the way, if you're so worried, I mean—fat lot of good walking out in the open does us."

"These cars probably don't even work anymore."
"And why is that? Nobody been using them!"
"Christ," the stranger mumbled, that of a woman's voice. She then cast her eyes downward, noticing the keys were still in the ignition of a nearby, rusted out truck. "Hell with it."
"The tires, they can grow flat. Dead batteries. You think people took the time to turn off their cars?"
"Would it hurt to try? All I'm saying." He began ducking his head, quickly peeking through windows caked with dust, some chipped or missing completely.
"Go ahead. I suppose hotwiring would come naturally."
"See, now that's messed up. Ah! Here we go."

"That car is too new."
"Huh," James screamed back, attention unwavering, now in the driver seat of a minivan.
"Most of these have remote starters. Chips. This isn't the nineties."

"Look at this whip. My old lady would've killed for this. Are those tv's in the headrests? Shit, man."
"Like I said, even if," he bent over, soon wiping his brow, exhaustion taking hold, "the keys are in there, it won't make a difference."
Just then, the sound of an engine roared from behind, leaving both men baffled.
"Holy sh— hey!" James hurriedly exited the van and started flailing his arms, trying to get the woman's attention. "What was all that bullshit, Chuck? Huh?!" He remained speechless. "Man, c'mon. I said c'mon!" James got back in the car.
"You wanna talk bullshit?! That's another fucking human! I told you!"
"Yeah, and if you don't get your ass in here, she'll get away! Oh, please work. C'mon." After turning the key, the engine stalled. "No, no."
"I'm here, I'm here!"
"Gah! It's not working!"
"Don't flood it, easy on the pedal!"
"I know how cars work."

"She's getting away!"
"C'mon, God. "
"This is hopeless. What is it I was just—
"Fuck! Don't do this! Hey, where are you going?!" Charles' face lost all expression, his attention focused solely on an overturned motorcycle that was just ahead. "Fine, man, but when I get this started, I'm leaving, ya hear me?! Ha, any... second... now! Gah!"
"James," he muttered, struggling to flip it back upright.
"Can one thing go right?!"
"James."
"COME ON!"
"JAMES!"
"WHAT?!"

A calm came over each of them as the bike was stood up, now resting on its kickstand. Charles closed his eyes tightly for a moment. He then sat down, hand hovering before the clutch.

"Seat's warm. What if I just—
"No way." In a loud barrage, the engine ignited. James rushed back out to the street.
"HA!" 
"Do you even know how to drive a—
"Get on," he screamed over the noise.
"Can't believe I'm getting the bitch seat. I said, 'do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?!'"
"We're coming, lady!"
"Oh my god! We're gonna die!"
"Cannot hear ya back there! I assume you're loving this!" he yelled, soon weaving through cars and potholes.
"Wow," the woman quipped as she stared through the rearview mirror. Her lead was diminishing.
"Jump up ahead!"
"What?!" He leaned over to look ahead, noticing a large gap in the pavement, either side bowed slightly, rebar exposed. "Uh... we're going around it, right?! Hey!"

"Get ready!"

"There's plenty of room over there! Enough for a truck!" He started slapping Charles' arm out of desperation. "Bro!"

"You idiots."

"This is fucking living!"

"We're gonna fucking die!"
"Here it comes!"
Time crawled as they hit the lip, now airborne, scores of trees visible below. After a few tense moments, the bike's front wheel touched down, with the back barely scraping by, sending bits of asphalt plummeting.

"WOO! That's what I'm talkin' about!" Charles threw his hands in the air briefly before hurrying to regain control. "Adrenaline baby!"

"This is the whitest I've ever been," James joked, face looking flush. "Oh my god."

"Let's go get our girl!"
The woman grinned, chuckling lightly, shaking her head. As she focused forward, a stationary cement truck was only inches away.
"Oh shi—