Day 2,108

After we left the tunnel the ground on either side of the road seemed to fall away, leaving nothing but clouds and distant mountains that looked close enough to touch. With my binoculars I could make out other cars on those far away roads, all being chased like us.

Their pursuers were just as ungodly as ours but in their own unique way, trading open sores and mouths teeming with maggots for jagged bark-like skin and harmonious fungal parasites where eyes should be. We seemed to be the only ones following a map, the only ones with binoculars - the only ones even remotely prepared to spend the rest of our days running away.

After a couple of hours of heading steadily higher, taking turns that only seemed to get sharper and almost turn back on ourselves, we managed to put enough distance between us and our pursuer to swap over. I was never allowed to drive, too good at keeping my eye open they said. Lack of depth perception and mountain roads are not good friends.

Still I was usually the one who noticed. From finding streams of fresh water to supply caches to a change in road texture - the others were too busy sleeping, driving or hovering in between to make a note of anything that wasn't directly in front or behind us.

I was the one who saw that the tarmac had given away to compressed dirt to gravestones. We weren't the first to be here but we figured we might be the last. Even managed to find the time to carve our own names on blank squares, just like the countless others before us.

For the first time in a long time, we were on the right track.