“How far away are we?” she asks, her voice shaking.

“Hour and a half. But once we get to Weatherford, I won’t know where to go.”

“Of course, we get the only car without a built-in navigational system,” Lynell mutters. “And this phone is a burner without internet access. I’ll just call them.”

“It’s almost two a.m.,” Daniel says.

“I don’t care, we—”

“No, I mean, just be prepared that they may not reply,” Daniel says.

Lynell nods and types out the numbers.

Her hand shakes as she holds the phone to her ear. She leans forward and drops her head on the dashboard, fingers tight around the phone.

It rings, the sound scraping into her ears, leaving trails of burning flesh behind. The ringing climbs into her brain and ricochets off her skull, stinging everything it touches.

More ringing. Lynell sits back and clenches the phone tighter.

Daniel glances over at her and tilts his head forward in the smallest of nods. The call goes to voicemail, and she pulls the phone from her ear, muttering a nearly silent, “Shit,” under her breath.

“Try again,” Daniel says.

She does. The phone rings and rings and rings and rings and the grating voice of a recorded, mechanical woman speaks into Lynell’s ear. She curses and ends the call.

“Maybe they shut off their phone,” Daniel says.

“We can’t afford for them to shut off their damn phones.”

She calls six more times, shaking more with each unanswered call.

“Hey,” he reaches over and pries the phone from Lynell’s hand. “Take a break. They don’t have to answer. We’ll find them when we get there. It’s not a big town.”

Lynell nods and leans over the center console to rest her head against his shoulder. She closes her eyes, watching blinding white lights behind her eyelids. A headache forms behind her temple and causes sweat to gather at the back of her neck. She imagines the family they’re about to meet. The happy couple and healthy child who have no idea what’s coming their way. All she wants is for them to be safe.

“We’re just ten minutes away,” Daniel announces.

“Okay,” Lynell says, sitting up and away from Daniel. “I’m going to try calling one more time.” Without waiting for a response, she opens the phone and clicks redial.

No one answers. There’s no bleary, annoyed male voice on the other end, demanding to know why he’s being called over and over at two o’clock in the morning. There’s no child crying in the background, distraught at being woken up. No mother shushing her to sleep. Nothing.

She drops the phone in her lap, staring through the front windshield without seeing.

The speed limit declines as more homes and businesses line the street. They pass several county roads and a closed gas station, now a mere graveyard for broken down trucks.

“That’s creepy,” Lynell says.

Daniel chuckles. “It looks like this town should be infected with zombies.”

Lynell hits Daniel’s arm in jest. “That is so not funny!”