Defensive Driving
Posted on Sun Jun 1st, 2025 @ 7:25pm by Survior Hale MacLeod & Survior Alonzo Blazevic
2,340 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
The Lighthouse
Location: Owl's Head, Maine
Timeline: November 10, 2010 - 5:00 p.m.
As the car crept closer to Owls Head, the fog thickened, curling like fingers around the Vibe. The world was getting quieter. Too quiet. And in the silence, Alonzo felt it This is not just some virus thought Alonzo.
The gray Pontiac Vibe crawled along the nearly empty two lane road, its headlights cutting through the dense, soupy fog like searchlights in a dream. The Maine coastline lay just beyond the trees, hidden behind a wall of mist that seemed to swallow the world whole. Alonzo Blazevic’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, anxious for what was out there amid the broken down vehicles and derelict structures.
Next to him, slouched in the passenger seat beneath a weathered hoodie, was Ethan, the fifteen year old pale-skinned boy with eyes raw and hollow. The kid hadn’t said much since they’d left. Not even much since Alonzo had found him hiding in the supply closet of an abandoned diner, clutching a crowbar like it was his last lifeline.
Alonzo didn’t push. He knew that look.
The kid had watched his parents get torn apart by something that shouldn't exist. And then the cops showed up too late—too late to stop it, too late to understand—and found only blood, chaos, and a missing teenager. It didn’t take long for them to label him a suspect. A runaway. Maybe worse.
Until the world started catching up with the truth.
Alonzo had spent days tracking the story, days more tracking Ethan. Now, they were heading to Owls Head, where the boy’s uncle supposedly lived, but that was if they were still alive. If the town hadn’t gone quiet for the same reason every other place was going quiet.
Alonzo glanced at him, then back to the fog. "Hey.... you doing okay?" He did not really anticipate an answer.
Alonzo stayed focused on the road, jaw clenched. The digital recorder in the back seat stayed off for now. This wasn’t a story to capture yet. This was a story to survive off in the distance obscured by the fog was a lighthouse.
Hale stepped into the 'Square Egg', the mom-and-pop hardware store that had been on Main Street as long as anyone could remember. He paused just inside the door and waited, listening. No sound. He moved slowly, down the aisles. Picked over like every other store down town. All of the blades were gone as was anything remotely useful for camping. No blades, no axes, no hammers. Nothing.
He went behind the counter and through into the back office where he found a small coffee bar. That had been stripped to except for a half a box of peppermint tea bags. He checked all the drawers and shelves -- more nothing -- and then grabbed the box of peppermint tea bags. Sighing, he stepped out of the store and looked up and down the street. Where to next? That was the question.
The fog was just too heavy and Alonzo had only just been able to see the shape ahead in the road before his immediate reaction was muscle memory, slam on the brakes and lay on the horn to alert the person ahead. The vehicle swerved, missing Hale but that was only the small fortune. It didn't make up for what had taken place.
New life, new rules. People even if they were still that, a person... they were not generally friendly. "Ethan, glove box," he said to the teenager who still seemed stunned. "ETHAN!" shouted Alonzo. The boy snapped out if his trance and opened the glove box and saw the gun.
Handing it over carefully to Alonzo, he made sure it was loaded and ready if necessary. He had also neglected another new rule in this life, excessive noise was a very bad idea.
He jumped back, surprised to see someone on the road, given the state of gasoline nearly eight months in to their new reality, and frankly jealous. He stepped into a doorway, watchful, and reached behind him to unsheathe the knife he carried in a sheath under his jacket with one hand while shrugging off his backpack with the other.
Course slamming on the brakes, shouting inside his vehicle, brought the attention of ... them. Freaking zombies, Hale muttered, as he turned his attention to the small group lumbering in his direction. "Great," he thought, "drive off like the tourist you are so I can figure this out ..."
He focused on the driver and mouthed, as clearly as he could 'don't shoot me' and gestured for him to be silent, then turned his attention back to the group. Seven of them. Spread out a bit. If he backed up, turned, he'd be safe but then, the crowd would follow them and there had been a kid in the vehicle.
"Okay," he breathed out, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "don't need a big ass helicopter to take you out. If I can get through SERE training, I can get through this." He readied himself and started moving forward, targeting the closest. With luck, they were spread out enough that he could take down a couple, and draw the others away from the tourist and the kid.
Alonzo stepped out of the car. "Don't be a fool. Get your ass in the car," said Alonzo. "There's too many of them and thick fog. You don't know how many are actually out there."
For all that Hale considered himself a pilot first and foremost, he had the training in hand-to-hand to fall back on. He took out the first of the zombies and, as it started to fall, kicked it back into the next one, sending it to the ground where he took that one out as well. Knife to the side of the head, in the soft spot, then turned toward the car. "I'll drive," he said, "I'm from around here.'
Alonzo was not not going to argue with that. It was that or be a distraction that got them all killed, and he had no plans on that. Not today. "Fine, but this is my last tank of gasoline and we're sitting at a quarter of a tank."
He got into the back seat of the vehicle and kept his gun ready. One could not afford to trust strangers easily or even friends and family. This whole illness or whatever it was had torn the heart out of humanity and decayed society. "Take us somewhere safe?"
"I'm no threat to you but I have to say, where I take you," Hale said quietly as he met Alonzo's gaze in the rear view mirror. "depends on whether you've got the gun pointed at my back or not."
Under normal circumstances, Alonzo would have found that funny. Though had these been normal circumstances, there would be no need to point a gun at anyone. "I'm sorry for pointing a gun at you, but I think we both know its difficult to trust people these days. You have those...things out there, and its only bringing out the worst in us."
He looked at Ethan. "I have to keep him safe" explained Alonzo. Begrudgingly, he sat the gun down besides him. "Trust has to start somewhere."
"Those that are still alive," Hale said as he started driving, "left awhile ago. Looking to the government to keep them alive. Refugee centers and the like. There are a few still here and they're good folks. Still, doesn't hurt to be cautious. I'm Hale by the way."
"That's a type of weather," replied Alonzo. "Alonzo Blazevic. Ethan and I could use a few good people. Unfortunately, I can't say we've encountered that many. The few that we have..." Alonzo let a moment of silence pass. "No longer one of us."
"It's British," Hale replied, "means hero. Different spelling. Now, Alonzo. Wasn't there a muppet by that name?" He drove a bit out of town and turned, gesturing toward a lighthouse that sat on a hill a ways ahead. "Good view of the surroundings, small boat dock, and small windows on the first floor, too high up for the zombies to enter. "Safest place in the area."
"Gonzo the great," replied Alonzo with a small snickering. He looked at the lighthouse. "Defendable. I can see why people would choose it."
"It's why I chose it," Hale said. "There's no one else here. Some stayed in their houses, boarded up, mine had way too many ... windows."
"Then, you chose well. I've been bouncing place to place with Ethan for a while," explained Alonzo. "Settling down just was not really an option where we have been. This lighthouse though may be a good place to rest for a bit."
Hale pulled into the parking lot and then drove around the side of the building to a more hidden spot where the maintenance guy usually parked his truck. "Where are you headed," Hale asked as he shut off the engine and tossed the keys back to Alonzo.
"Taking Ethan to his surviving family," replied Alonzo who took the keys. "Fortunately, they live in Maine. I want to get him to them safely. That's what's important to me right now. I've tracked that kid down."
"Oh," Hale asked as he twisted in his seat. "If they live around here, I know them. I grew up in these parts." He turned back toward the windshield as memories and loss washed over him; he shoved them aside resolutely as he opened the driver's side door. "Time was this was a great place to live. Lots of adventures to be had."
"Still is," Alonzo replied with a small nod. A smile would be too forced. Times like these, smiles were reserved for a can of pudding or a cup of hot coffee, and not the instant shit that should be considered an MRE staple. "I'm sure there are adventures to be had. Its just Adventures with the walking dead, roaming around and trying to avoid being mauled by one of those things."
"Just takes a bit of planning," Hale said as he gestured toward a door off the parking lot. He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and went first, unlocking the door and walking into a wide room originally set up as a small museum. "Distraction, sneaking, and not wanting anything so much that you're willing to face a hoard to get it."
"Been trying my best with Ethan to avoid 'hoards' of those things" stated Alonzo. "It has been slim pickings. As you can probably tell, he's a bit scrawny. We've been trying to stay quiet and unnoticed for the most part."
"Good plan," Hale said as he gestured toward the winding stairs. "I've got two fresh bass upstairs, swimming about in a cooler. You're welcome to join me for dinner and while we're eating, you can tell me about Ethan's family. If I know them, I'll make the introductions."
Alonzo have Ethan a nudge in the shoulder. "He's fifteen, not mute," commented Alonzo. "We will join you for dinner, but I can't tell you much about Ethan's family. I am sure for a good meal, this one will open up a bit more and talk."
Introductions. That was nice to think about. "I hope you do know them or at least where they may be. I did not plan on acquiring a little brother, but this one has sort of been that."
While Hale set about killing and filleting the bass, Ethan got the hibachi going. This at least was familiar ground, something he'd been taught how to do back when his Dad hosted family barbecues practically every weekend. "My uncle," he said after a minute, "is James Thompson. He and my Aunt Carol live here. Down near the water, I think. I remember my Dad bringing us down here and we'd go out on Uncle Jimmy's boat."
Hale nodded, grinning at Ethan, "Know it well. The Briny Marlin. My Dad and your uncle were best friends." He threw up his hands at the start of surprise on Ethan's face. "My Dad died ... not your Uncle. He's alive and well. Getting the Briny Marlin ready to go out. That's where I got the bass from. Practically living on the stuff." He shifted his gaze to Alonzo for a moment, adding, "stores around here are emptied. Nothing of use left. People came, bristling with weapons, stripped our stores, and moved on."
"Could we, could I ..." Ethan's voice trailed off. The whole little brother thing and all. He had all these memories of his life and it had been a good one. Better than this, that's for sure. Uncle Jimmy and his boat, they were a part of it. His Dad's brother and best friend. Best man at each other's weddings. Godfather to each other's kids. All that. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," he said to Alonzo, "I'm sorry and all. I just ... I want to see him. Find out if ..."
Alonzo nodded. "Ethan, this was already about bringing you back to family. I think we are at a point where you have to find out some things and be with your own blood," stated the journalist. "You don't need to apologize for anything. We've gotten each other here."
"Thanks," Ethan said, his face a study in mixed emotions. "For understanding and all ... when can we go?"
Alonzo looked at Hale. "Stores may be empty, but at least the shores are not. Things seem to still be edible, animals and such. Hunting, fishing, all of that seems like what needs to be done to survive now. We aren't going to be able to break into stores and find Twinkies."
"No great loss there," Hale said. "Now, pizza. I'm already missing that." He turned his attention to Ethan. "Let's eat and we'll take you over there, okay?"
"Okay," Ethan said, grinning, "Okay."
Hale MacLeod
Alonzo Blazevic
Ethan Thompson
Survivors
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