44

"I have a feeling the tunnel is best," you say.

You drive due north for a mile and a half before turning east to the tunnel's approach, a slender two-lane road dipping below a mountain. The ride is almost pleasant leading to the start of the tunnel, with large willow trees roadside and the sounds of chirping birds, singing in flight oblivious to the human virus spreading across the planet.

Into the tunnel you drive, into the darkness of underground, with brown road and yellow painted lanes, and orange lights still blazing overhead. Wreckage lies around, broken cars, rolled-over vans, and even a yellow school bus impaled in the side of a wall. You slow the car as you need time to react to anything up ahead beyond the road's twists and turns.