BREAKTHROUGH

DARK ROAD, BOOK FIFTEEN

BRUNO MILLER

ABOUT THE BOOK

Challenge is inevitable. Defeat is not.

In the gripping finale of this cross-country post-apocalyptic odyssey, Ben and his crew traverse the desolate landscapes of a world ravaged by disaster, facing untold challenges, and forging unlikely alliances along the way.

As Ben and the others approach their final destination of Durango, Colorado, the group is tested yet again on their final push home, confronting the ghosts of their past and the harsh realities of a fractured world.

In a climactic showdown against the remnants of a once-civilized society turned ruthless, the bonds of family and the strength of the human spirit are pushed to their limits. The journey culminates in an unforgettable and heart-wrenching conclusion, where sacrifices are made, destinies are revealed, and the true meaning of survival is discovered.

In the shadows of a post-apocalyptic sunset, Ben, Sandy, and the kids grapple with the bittersweet reality of a new beginning forged from the ashes of the old world. The last leg of their journey is a testament to resilience, hope, and the enduring power of the human will in the face of an uncertain tomorrow.

Breakthrough: Book Fifteen

Copyright © 2024 Bruno Miller

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover by MiblArt.

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NEWSLETTER

READER’S LETTER

Dear amazing readers,

As our cross-country odyssey draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on the whirlwind of emotions we’ve undoubtedly shared – laughter, tears, and those gripping moments of anxiety.

For me, it’s been an incredible journey of storytelling and personal growth as a writer.

I want to express my sincerest gratitude to you for being a part of the captivating saga of the Dark Road series. As we transition to the next adventure in Dark Waters, I warmly invite you to join me for the ride. And who knows what lies beyond the Dark Road for Ben and his crew?

So, stay tuned, stay frosty, and God bless.

With heartfelt thanks,

Bruno

1

Hunched over the Blazer’s wheel, Ben rubbed his weary eyes in an effort to clear his vision. The young couple in the silver BMW ahead had agreed to lead him and his crew out to Route 13, which in turn would get them across the Missouri River and back on track to Durango. But the shattered taillight on the right-hand side of the battered sedan left only one faint red indicator for Ben to follow on the dark and winding backcountry road. He’d been pleased with the concealment the low-light conditions had provided up until this point, but now he wished for fewer clouds to block the crescent-shaped moon.

He was grateful for the couple’s assistance in getting him and his crew out of Sanctuary, although his head was still spinning from the night’s events, and the bruises he’d acquired during the escape were starting to manifest themselves in the forefront of his thoughts. He could still feel the butt of the rifle graze his cheek and a set of rough, desperate hands around his throat as the man attempted to choke the life from him. The scuffle with the guard had left more than physical marks on his body, and if nothing else, the incident was a reminder that he was mortal and that things could take a turn for the worse, no matter how careful he was.

Ben glanced around the Blazer, quickly checking in with Sandy and Emma. He ended with a peek back at Joel and Allie behind him in the Scrambler. They were all a little worse off for their time in Sanctuary.

Thanks to Jerimiah Stone and his twisted cult, they’d lost precious time and who knew what else. Ben tried not to think about the possible long-term effects the opium-laced water might have on the kids or Sandy. Maybe there’d only be the headache that was sure to follow the dissipating high they all felt. Allie had already gotten sick as her body purged the toxins from her system. He wished the others had experienced the same reaction; Ben certainly didn’t wish to see any of them retch their guts out, but he thought it better than the alternative.

His biggest concerns lay with the younger two. Their small body weights and statures meant the opium would stick with them the longest, and his goal right now was to find someplace safe, where they could sleep off the effects. They all needed proper rest after the most recent nightmarish turn of events.

The back of the Blazer was a mess of limbs and fur. Both Emma and Brad had fallen asleep quickly after leaving Sanctuary behind, too tired and doped up to bother taking off the armor-plated vests Ben had insisted they wear for the escape. He could have closed his eyes and been asleep in seconds himself, but that was going to have to wait.

Sandy must have noticed the weariness in his movements. “You all right? I can drive if you need me to.”

“I’m fine, but we definitely need to find a place to lay low for a while.” Ben was tempted to take her up on her offer to drive, but he didn’t trust that the opium had fully worked its way out of her system.

“At least we have fuel,” she remarked. “And I’m sure we can get water up here at the next bridge.”

Ben was sure now that Sandy was still feeling the effects of the drugs. How else could she be so upbeat after all they’d just been through?

“I’m not sure I want to stop for water just yet. I know we need it, but I’d feel a whole lot better if we could put a little more distance between us and Sanctuary.” He squinted against the Jeep’s headlights in the rearview mirror as he searched the narrow road behind them for followers.

Sandy’s brow wrinkled. “But Stone is dead, and the place is in flames. Do you really think they’ll chase us? Is there even anybody left to chase us?”

Ben didn’t like that Sandy was making sense, and her logic forced him to question his immediate plans. He’d been fortunate back at the vehicle impound yard and managed to gas up both vehicles, but that only solved one of their problems. They needed more than full fuel tanks to survive.

“Probably not.” Ben sighed, relenting to her rationale.

If it was just him, he’d put another hundred miles on the odometer before calling it a night, but if he was going to be realistic with his expectations, he’d need to lower the bar when it came to travel right now, no matter how bad he wanted the buffer of distance. Navigating the narrow, unfamiliar back roads of Missouri’s countryside was dangerous enough on its own; adding their current level of fatigue to the mix certainly wouldn’t make it any easier. Stopping to find a secluded campsite was the lesser of two evils, and it was what needed to happen.

“Let’s at least get across the river. Then we can start looking for a spot with water access.” Ben pulled the atlas from between the console and seat and tossed it in Sandy’s lap. “Find us a spot.”

“Dad… can I take this off now?” Emma yawned her way through the question and started to shed the tactical vest before getting Ben’s okay.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked back and smiled at his daughter, but she was already out of the vest and had her eyes closed again. The tables had turned in the back seat, and Bajer had become the pillow for a change, although the medium-sized gray dog seemed perfectly content with the new arrangement, as evidenced by her loud snoring. Brad had taken a spot on the floor in front of the bench seat, sprawled out on a mixture of gear and blankets. Sam was awake in the back but struggling to keep her head upright in the glow of the Scrambler’s headlights.

Ben thought about Joel. His son would be as tired as him, although he hadn’t noticed the Jeep wandering from its lane. They were both running off the remnants of the adrenaline from their escape, but the influx of energy wouldn’t last much longer. As the miles clicked by and they became more complacent with their newly earned freedom, what remained of the night would continue to weigh heavy on their eyes.

After a few more miles of weaving along the dark country road, they found themselves at an intersection with Route 13. The BMW’s lights flickered as Eli put the sedan in park but left it running. The young man got out of the car gingerly, still sore from the unwarranted beating he’d received at the hands of Stone’s goons.

“Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Ben slid out of the Blazer, leaving his door ajar.

“A left will take you back to 70. Right will lead you north of Kansas City. Then you can make your way back south toward Colorado.” Eli shuffled about nervously with his hands in his pockets while giving both directions a lengthy gander.

“We’ll head north a bit and make our way around the city.” Ben eyed the young man, then the bullet-riddled car. “You guys gonna be okay?”

“Oh yeah, we’re gonna be all right. Thanks to you. I owe you, mister.” Eli stuck out his hand.

Ben grabbed the kid’s hand and gave it a hardy shake. “Nope. We’re square. Just take care of that kid. And you might want to stay off the road for a while in case there are any surviving patrols in the area.”

“Plan on it. I got relatives down in Lincoln, ’bout an hour south of here. Once we get there, we’ll be safe.”

“Thanks.” Jessica stuck her head out of the BMW’s passenger window and waved.

Ben and Sandy both waved back.

“Good luck to you.” Ben headed back to the Blazer.

“Same to you.” Eli limped back to his car, and in a matter of seconds, the couple were nothing more than a fading taillight heading south.

Ben took advantage of the stop and made his way back to Joel and Allie in the Jeep. Gunner got up and intercepted him by sticking his head outside the vehicle and pushing his snoot into Ben’s open hand.

“Good boy, good boy. You good to drive until we cross the river?” Ben asked Joel. “I think we’re gonna look for a place on the other side and make camp. Maybe another half an hour or so.”

“Yeah, I can do whatever we need to. I feel pretty good,” Joel answered.

“All right. I’ll give you a heads-up when we find a place to turn off.” Ben rested his hand on Joel’s arm, which was hanging outside the open window, and gave Allie a quick smile. “You guys did good back there. I’m proud of you both.”

Ben headed for the Blazer without giving either Joel or Allie a chance to respond. He felt bad for Allie; she still looked a little green, but she’d ingested more of the opium-laced water than anyone else.

“How are the kids holding up?” Sandy strained to turn her body and looked back toward the Scrambler as Ben got back in the truck.

“They’re good. I told them we’d be stopping soon.” Ben hoped his answer was enough to keep Sandy happy. She looked tempted to get out and check on them herself, and he thought she would have if not for the residual effects of the drugs in her system.

“I’ll tell you one thing. We’re never accepting food or water from anyone else, ever again.” Sandy’s tone was stern, her anger over what Stone had put them all through showing itself one final time.

In a perfect world, Ben would have agreed with her. For the time being, he did, but he also understood the wound was fresh. The betrayal they’d experienced from their last two encounters with people was at the forefront of their minds. He knew she didn’t mean they wouldn’t accept help from anyone, ever, but he let her have this moment anyway. She was partially right, after all. It would be a while before they took anything at face value, maybe never. But in this post-EMP world, there was no use pretending they wouldn’t need help from someone at some point. They’d just have to be extra careful, although Ben wasn’t sure if it was possible to be any more cautious of those they encountered. He kept telling himself they’d do better and be more vigilant, but trouble had a way of finding them no matter how hard they tried to avoid it.

Ben steered the Blazer right, away from the young couple and out onto the double northbound lanes of the larger highway. The bridge over the Missouri River wasn’t far ahead. He just hoped the crossing was free of any wrecks or road blockages. If they couldn’t cross here, Ben had already made up his mind that they’d head back to the interstate and try their luck elsewhere. Anywhere but back toward Sanctuary—or whatever was left of the place that had nearly been their end.

2

The scattered clouds began to drift west as the early-morning sky cleared. The sun wasn’t ready to make an appearance just yet, but the dissipating cloud cover let a hint of moonlight reach the faded pavement. Ben was tempted to cut the Blazer’s lights and attempt to navigate by natural light alone, but thinking back to the couple with the young girl who’d bent their tie rod after running into a wreck on the road at night quickly brought him to his senses.

He was too tired to play the guessing game and didn’t trust his eyes anymore. He wasn’t a big fan of broadcasting their location, but the alternative was too dangerous. Two trucks out here in the middle of wide-open farmland would be easily spotted, although if they could find a place to get off the road in the next few miles, that wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.

After spotting the bridge, Ben took his foot off the gas and coasted for a bit. Satisfied that there was a clear path over the water, he continued on.

“Come in,” he said over the radio. “Bridge looks clear for the most part. Let’s take it slow and watch out for parts on the road. Over.” He sat more upright in his seat, hunching over the wheel and occasionally leaning out his window to get a better look at the roadway.

Parts and pieces of vehicles lay strewn about from some of the cars colliding with the bridge’s guardrail and each other, and Ben had to be careful to avoid the litter. He still didn’t have a spare for the Blazer, a fact that lingered in his thoughts. Slowly, he and Joel made their way around several burned-out cars scattered along the northbound lanes of the bridge. Fortunately, they were staggered in position, allowing Ben and his son to weave through the mess.

Their last obstacle was a commercial passenger bus that looked remarkably intact. The rear engine cover was left propped open, and Ben imagined the driver trying to make repairs after the EMPs hit as his frustrated passengers watched impatiently. How long did they wait before realizing there was no fix for the bus and that they were on their own?

Ben was tempted to speed up and quickly pass the abandoned bus but remained at a steady speed instead. He kept one hand on his pistol as he rolled by the bus’s open door. The bus looked empty, but he couldn’t be too sure. The tinted windows kept the interior of the large coach hidden from view. The empty bus would make a great place to spend the night for any weary travelers coming through here on foot.

Sandy noticed his hand on the Glock. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just being careful.” Ben’s hand drifted back up to the steering wheel as he moved away from the bus, and the Scrambler followed.

He gave the Blazer a little more throttle and picked up speed once he saw the road in front of them was wide open.

“Can’t really see anything.” Sandy leaned her head out the passenger window and looked down at the river below them. “But I can hear the water moving.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Ben saw that the guardrail was ending. “It looks like there might be a place to get off the road up ahead.”

He didn’t expect to be able to pull over right away after the river crossing due to the elevation of the road over the surrounding farm fields, but backtracking to the water that much still bothered him. They took the first break in the guardrail and pulled off the road into the window-high weeds.

The last thing he felt like doing was getting out of the truck to cover their tracks, but if he expected to get any rest and feel good about it, the task was necessary. Joel helped him stand the overgrown weeds back up as best they could until it looked more like someone had simply pulled over to rest rather than left the highway altogether.

Plowing through the tall weeds, Ben pushed the Blazer over the rough ground until he broke through a thicket of brush and found himself on the edge of a decaying cornfield: row after row of withered and broken plants, bent over at the base of their stalks as if they’d all been toppled simultaneously by a powerful gust of wind. The failed rows of corn stretched out as far as the dim moonlight would allow them to see.

Ben picked a line between a couple of rows and forged ahead toward the river. The dead plants made him feel slightly less guilty about driving over the field, but they also served as a stark reminder of the current state of their lives. At least his chances of getting stuck were virtually nil. The parched ground crackled under the Blazer. Its tires crushing the crusty, sunbaked earth sounded more like they were breaking through ice than dirt.

Ben liked the look of the other side of the river better, with its denser stands of trees and heavier vegetation, but there was no way he would agree to camp on that side after what they’d just been through. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with their current location, but he was willing to settle, all things considered.

The welcoming smell of moving water hit his nostrils before he caught sight of the moonlight-dappled surface of the Missouri River. Ben aimed for a cluster of willow trees near the base of the bridge; he thought they’d make good cover for the trucks and their campsite while allowing for a decent line of sight back down the trail they’d just forged. He wasn’t sure how long they’d be staying here, but he didn’t want to have to move the trucks again if they were still here during daylight hours, which, at this point, was unavoidable.

He tried not to dwell on their current timeline too much, mostly because it was disappointing, but he checked his watch just the same. It was just a little after four in the morning, and they were preparing to camp along the same river they’d failed to get water from yesterday. Ben shook his head and sighed as he took the Blazer out of gear and turned the engine off.

“Well, I guess this is it.” Sandy popped her door open and slid out of the truck. “What should we do with them?”

Ben glanced back at Emma and Brad, who were both still sound asleep. “Let ’em go for now. I’ll get their tents set up first.” He wasn’t exactly looking forward to setting up his own tent, let alone the kids’ tents, but in the long run, this would be easier than trying to coax his younger two into action.

By the time he and Sandy got their gear unloaded, Joel and Allie had already picked out a location for their tents. Sam and Gunner had unloaded and were giving the new spot a once-over with about half as much enthusiasm as normal, but Bajer showed no interest and stayed with Emma in the Blazer.

A few minutes into setting up their campsite, Allie ran to find a spot to throw up. She nearly tripped along the way but managed to hold it together without getting sick. The brief episode of nausea was a reminder that they all needed water, not just because they were suffering from dehydration but because they needed to flush their systems of the toxins they’d ingested.

“Why don’t you guys get on the water situation while we finish up with the gear?” Ben suggested.

“Oh man, really?” Joel hung his shoulders.

“We all need to drink as much as we can before going to bed,” Sandy added.

Ben grabbed the empty five-gallon container and water filter from the back of the Jeep and handed it to his son. The last time he’d handled the jug, he was fighting for his life, trying his best not to drown. Now his throat was so dry he couldn’t come up with enough spit to wet his lips. He didn’t have the energy to be angry with Joel over his complaint, and quite honestly, he couldn’t blame his son for his reaction. They were all tired and anxious to crawl into their sleeping bags, but getting fresh water into their systems now would make the morning more bearable and help mitigate the hangover-like symptoms that were sure to follow.

Joel accepted the jug and filter without saying another word. Then he and Allie headed for the water’s edge with Sam and Gunner. Ben and Sandy continued with the tents until they had everything in place. Ben adjusted his knee brace before dragging Brad from the floor of the Blazer. His youngest was still half asleep when Ben hoisted him up and carried him to his tent.

“Where are we?” Brad mumbled.

“We made camp for the night, buddy,” Ben answered.

“I’m so tired.” Brad tried to lie down, but Ben caught him.

“Not yet. I need you to take a big drink for me first. Then you can go back to sleep.” Ben took a freshly filled Nalgene from Sandy and held it to Brad’s lips.

Initially, Brad resisted, but after the first swallow, he held the bottle himself and guzzled almost half the Nalgene, letting the excess spill out of the corners of his mouth. He took a big breath and wiped his face, then lay down and fell asleep immediately. Ben left the water by his son’s head and zipped him into his tent before heading to the Blazer for Emma.

He was surprised to see his daughter sitting up, although she looked as though a slight breeze could tip her over. He helped her out of the truck, then waited for Bajer to join them before closing the door.

“Where are we?” Emma was as confused as Brad.

“We’re making camp for the night. Or at least what’s left of it.” Sandy was ready with an answer and another fresh bottle of water.

Emma took the water without being prompted and drank a good amount while Ben helped her navigate the uneven ground to her tent. She climbed inside, sat down with heavy eyes, and took another drink while waiting for Bajer to join her. The gray dog found a spot at the end of Emma’s sleeping bag and curled up, grunting her approval. Ben got his daughter to drink a little more water, then helped her settle in. She fell asleep almost as quickly as the dog.

Sandy put her hand on Ben’s shoulder as he crouched down by Emma’s tent. “I’m glad we stopped. I know you didn’t want to, but I think it was the smart thing to do.”

“No, we needed it.” Ben kissed his daughter’s forehead and zipped the screened tent fly shut before getting up.

“Sore, huh?” Sandy asked.

Ben forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just a little, but I’ll take it over a night in Sanctuary.”

He stood for a minute, eyeing the bridge that nearly ran directly above them, and listened to the frogs singing in the still night air for a minute. This wouldn’t have been his first choice of places to stay, but it was as good or as bad as any other campsite they’d made. And if anyone passed on the highway above, at least he and the others would be out of sight and have plenty of warning.

Joel and Allie returned from the river, and Joel heaved the full five-gallon container of water up onto the Blazer’s rear cargo rack with a sigh. Allie carried the refilled Nalgenes in a towel and handed one to her mom before giving a second to Ben.

“The water’s pretty cool, actually,” Allie noted.

There was no reason to talk for the next minute or so as they all drank their fill and settled into the calm quiet of their surroundings. One by one, they said goodnight and retired to their tents, with Gunner and Sam choosing to sleep outside in the narrow gap between Allie and Joel. Ben stopped for a second and gave both dogs a little attention to show his gratitude for their willingness to stand watch, whether that was their intention or not.

Ben was the last one to get into his tent. He took a final look around before partially zipping himself inside. If something happened, he wanted to be able to get up and outside while making as little noise as possible. He laid his AR-15 alongside his bag and tucked the Glock behind the rolled-up towel he was using for a pillow, then worked on stripping off his boots and the knee brace.

He was grateful to Julia for the brace, but it felt good to be free of the neoprene and metal support for a change. Ben worked his knee through a couple of full extensions before lying down and trying his best to clear his head by focusing on the chirping frogs. He felt his eyes getting heavy, and despite his worries about the lack of miles between their camp and latest near-death experience, he drifted off to sleep.

3

Ben knew he’d slept longer than he intended to when he woke up on top of his sleeping bag soaked with sweat. There was nothing quite like waking up on the ground, inside a hot tent, and well behind schedule to start the day. He sat up and listened for a couple of seconds, thinking it was much too quiet for the amount of daylight coming through the thin green nylon tent shell. A quick glance at his watch confirmed his fears and propelled him to get moving.

He pulled on his boots and stood without bothering to lace them up. He returned the Glock to its holster on his belt and made sure to grab the AR-15 for good measure. He stepped all the way outside his tent and was almost instantly greeted by three wet dogs.

“All right, all right. I see you. Thanks for that.” Ben held Gunner at arm’s length in an effort to stay dry and clean, although he’d already failed at both. He tried to brush the sand and water from his pants and watched the dogs gallop back toward the river, where the others were gathered.

“Good morning.” Sandy was the first to greet him, in a tone that was way too chipper for his current state of mind. He was sore; the pain in his face and neck from getting hit with the rifle butt overshadowed his bum knee or any of the other half dozen aches and pains that plagued him.

He glanced at his watch again. “I don’t know if you can still call it that. It’s almost 11:30.”

“Joel tried to wake you up around nine, but no luck. You needed the rest,” Sandy insisted.

Ben leaned his rifle against a dogwood sapling and proceeded to run through a series of stretches he was hoping would loosen him up a little. He was getting too old to sleep on the ground and pull all-nighters—at least consecutive all-nighters.

“Oh, that doesn’t look good.” Sandy winced as she drew closer to Ben and got a look at his face.

“Bad, huh?”

“Does it hurt?” Sandy continued to study the side of his face. “Stupid question, huh?”

“No, it does a little, yeah. It’s my neck more than anything.” Ben moved his head from side to side a few times, then changed the subject. “Have you seen anyone pass by?”

“A car crossed the bridge early this morning, headed that way.” She pointed east. “Toward Sanctuary or Lexington or whatever. They didn’t even slow down.”

Ben nodded. He was jealous of the early-morning travelers and wished he and his crew had managed to get on the road at a decent time. But he also understood they needed their rest. He couldn’t very well expect the others or himself to be alert and aware of their surroundings if they were fighting exhaustion as they traveled. He figured the foul-up in Sanctuary would cost them a couple of days, and he was right, although today wouldn’t be a total loss travel-wise. If they broke camp soon, they could still get half a day’s worth of travel under their belt, and with a little luck, they could reach Kansas by dark.

“We saved you some coffee and oatmeal. I’ll go heat it up for you.” Sandy let her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment before heading off toward the water. “I’ll grab you something for the pain, too.”

“Nothing too strong. Just a few ibuprofen will be fine,” Ben called out.

The last thing he wanted was to be doped up on the pills Julia had sent with them. He knew Sandy meant well, but today was a chance for a fresh start, albeit a late one. And Ben was determined to leave the state of Missouri in the rearview mirror. He already anticipated pushback from Sandy over who would drive. He wouldn’t argue, though, not today, and if she was up to drive, he’d let her have the first shift. It was going to be a long one, and there would be plenty of opportunities for everyone to take a turn behind the wheel.

As long as there continued to be no reason to rush out of here, Ben planned on topping off their water supply and straightening out the gear in the trucks enough to quiet his OCD tendencies. He was initially afraid they wouldn’t make it out of Sanctuary with all the supplies, ammunition, and hardware they’d gone in with, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, it was the opposite; they’d picked up a few things during the escape. There really wasn’t room in either truck for more than they already had, but he couldn’t resist grabbing the body armor or the M249.

They were close to home now. Had they been any farther away, he might have considered ditching some of the stuff weighing them down. But the time it would cost them now would be well worth the effort when they reached the house. He already had a spot picked out for the SAW on the corner of the front porch, facing the dirt road approaching the house. Unfortunately, he only had the top part of the mounting bracket, but he was working through a solution for that as well. They were still a long way from home, although he was admittedly getting ahead of himself with problems that didn’t need solving yet. That was okay, though. If a time came when he no longer planned for their future, then hope was lost.

Ben turned his attention to their current state of affairs as he watched the boys cast their lines over the chocolate-milk-colored water. The river didn’t look very promising as far as catching fish went, but that didn’t seem to dampen their enthusiasm or affect the determination written on their faces. But it wasn’t always about landing that trophy catch. There was therapy within the rhythm of motion required to keep the big loops of line flowing outward and the fly airborne.

Sandy returned with a cup of coffee and another mug of oatmeal and dehydrated fruit. Hardly a gourmet meal, but satisfying just the same. She delivered the hot beverage and steaming cup of food without attempting to engage in conversation, as if she knew Ben needed fuel before discussing their chances of survival today any further.

He sat back on a deadfall tree that had been washed several yards back from the edge of the river by some forgotten flood and let the coffee work its way through his body. The sounds of the kids and dogs making noise down by the water brought to mind better days. He would have given anything to open his eyes and find them streamside in Durango, having one of the pack-lunch picnics that had become a staple when he had all the kids with him.

Ben forced his mouth open wide and took another oversized bite of oatmeal in an effort to finish the meal quickly so he could get on with the business of getting home. He washed the last of breakfast down with the remaining coffee and contemplated getting another cup but decided against it due to the already late hour. Leaving this late was a recipe for disappointment, but he promised to do his best to temper his expectations for the day.

What had happened to them in Sanctuary, like in so many other places, wasn’t their fault, and neither was their current schedule. He needed to give the others the credit they deserved in making it this far and coming together as a team. There was plenty of hard work ahead, but if he was a betting man, he’d put it all on them getting home without hesitation. What waited for them once they arrived in Durango was a different story, but that was well beyond their control. They’d deal with what they found at home when the time came for that.

He pushed himself up off the sun-bleached log and stretched out one more time. It would take a while for the pills to kick in. In the meantime, he’d keep busy by packing up his gear and encouraging the others to do the same. The campsite had worked out, thankfully. After all, they deserved a break from bad luck, didn’t they? He’d never say those words out loud, though, for fear of jinxing himself.

Ben wasn’t superstitious, but he wasn’t about to tempt fate. And now that he’d opened the proverbial can of worms that was his overactive imagination and his tendency to worry about things that hadn’t happened yet, he suddenly felt a low-key urgency to move on from this place before he willed their next crisis into existence.

4

Ben expected a little pushback from the kids when he suggested they break camp and prepare to get back on the road, but no one complained. He didn’t even get an eye roll from the boys when he asked them to wrap up their attempt at pulling any fish out of the muddy water. Ben had pictured himself soaking in the next big piece of water they found, but the thought of rinsing off in the less-than-appealing flow of dirty water seemed counterproductive. He’d have to settle for a wet towel and a change of clothes.

Maybe their next stop would yield cleaner water. At least the river wasn’t polluted beyond the floating silt and sand kicked up by the persistent current. And it was good to know the river was free from any chemical or sewage spills. They had a clean water source that could be filtered for drinking water. They’d cross the Missouri again. There were several opportunities to do so on their way around Kansas City, but Ben had his eye on one spot in particular.

He’d plotted a rough course around Kansas City to the north using a series of secondary roads that would ultimately dump them back onto I-70, just west of the troubled city. They’d been warned about Kansas City and Topeka by the couple in the broken-down Suburban, and Ben had no intention of ignoring that information or confirming firsthand the total collapse that was reportedly unfolding in those places. The news was weeks old at this point, but there was no reason to think things had improved much in either place.

According to the route he’d plotted on the atlas, he’d have to navigate somewhere between seventy and eighty miles of road before reconnecting with the westbound lanes of I-70. The distance didn’t sound like much, and it appeared simple enough when he traced it out on the atlas with his finger. It should have been a relatively short drive, no more than a couple of hours, maybe three these days.

The thought of speeding through the few inches of snaking back roads he’d highlighted on the atlas made him laugh a little under his breath. He knew better than that. Besides, they were going to need gas soon. The Blazer was okay for now, but until he came up with a permanent solution for the Jeep’s leaky tank, the slow but steady loss of fuel would dictate when and where they stopped regardless of the miles they covered.

He’d already been eyeing the spot of fuel-soaked earth under the Scrambler. Parking the Jeep in the same spot all night had shown just how much gas was slipping through the melted pen. The thirsty ground did a good job of absorbing the spilled fuel, but the two- to three-foot wide patch of fuel-stained ground made the magnitude of the problem very clear.

He shook his head at the undeniable notion that every time they had open road in front of them, they seemed to be tormented by some issue that worked against them and prevented them from making any real progress. They’d had it pretty good so far when it came to mechanical issues—or, rather, the lack thereof. For two vehicles of this age, their performance was nothing short of a miracle. Both trucks had suffered minor issues, but considering what they were asking of these two antiques, they had no right to complain. At least the leak wouldn’t stop them.

The loss of fuel from the Jeep’s tank was an inconvenience and nothing more. The steady drip would eventually grow to a trickle, but in the worst-case scenario, they’d just have to stop more often for gas. They could still get home, albeit with a limp. What he needed was a two-part epoxy or something like the tube of J-B Weld he had on the shelf over his workbench in the garage at home. He’d meant to throw it in the toolbox when he was gathering supplies for the trip but had forgotten about it in his haste to get on the road with Joel. Funny how something that could be found readily at the counter of almost any auto parts or hardware store for a few bucks was now worth its weight in gold.

He’d have to keep his eyes peeled for a place where he could look for something to patch the tank, but he wasn’t going to put himself or the others in danger doing so. They had the extra fuel tanks for backup, after all.

Joel sighed as he heaved his and Allie’s tents into the back of the Scrambler. “Brad’s asking to ride with us again, but I thought I better check with you first before I got his hopes up.”

Ben thought for a minute before answering, looking back at his youngest, who’d already finished packing up and was throwing a stick for the dogs. Brad and Emma were laughing at Sam and Gunner, who both had an end of the branch he’d been tossing to them and were playing tug-of-war with it. Ben hated to be the one to throw a damper on what was so far a happy, peaceful morning. Letting Brad ride with his brother, Allie, and Gunner wouldn’t just make the boy happy; it’d make Emma happy as well. Ben’s daughter already had to share the Blazer’s back seat with an overly attached dog.

“I guess so,” Ben capitulated.

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” Joel turned to walk away.

“Make sure we have all the water containers topped off. Once we get moving, I don’t want to stop unless it’s for fuel. I’d like to see Kansas today,” Ben added.

Joel nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

While the kids all chipped in and formed an assembly line to purify water and fill bottles, Ben and Sandy continued organizing the Blazer. Sandy focused on trying to de-funk the front half of dog hair, dried mud, and whatever else had found its way inside the truck. Ben concentrated on the back while simultaneously taking inventory of their supplies. He made sure to create a spot where Sam could curl up and stay out of his line of sight to the back window, but his primary focus was setting up a good defense.

Joel, Allie, and Brad could take the lead like they’d been doing. Ben preferred staying back and keeping an eye on things. In a world where most of their decisions were made for them, he felt like bringing up the rear gave him a small degree of control, and it beat having to rely on the rearview mirror to check on the kids. If he was being honest with himself, though, having the Jeep drive ahead of them wouldn’t keep his eyes from scouting the road behind them. That was a habit he would most likely never abandon. But now more than ever, they’d be ready for just such a situation, courtesy of Jerimiah Stone and their newly acquired M249. The light machine gun would be waiting to greet anyone who dared to follow or threaten them.

The fully automatic weapon’s rounds would do no more damage than an AR-15’s, but what the SAW lacked in power, it made up for with its high rate of fire and intimidation. And given their ammunition situation, Ben had no reservations about putting the hardware to work. He wasn’t looking to be frivolous with their supply of 5.56, but he was tired of ending up with the short straw in these encounters.

“Well, I think that’s as good as it’s going to get. I can’t believe how dirty it was. I just gave the whole thing a good cleaning at Ed and Julia’s not that long ago,” Sandy complained.

“I’m surprised it’s not worse,” Ben commented.

Ed and Julia’s seemed like it was weeks ago, but it wasn’t. So much had happened since they’d been at the generous couple’s farm near Fort Wayne, Indiana. Ben wondered how Ed, Julia, and her parents were getting on with things. They’d done a number on the Patriot Hooligans. They might have even struck a mortal wound to the gang’s infrastructure, but he couldn’t be certain. And even if that was the case, what was to prevent some other group from filling the void left by the murderous gang? For Ed and his family’s sake, Ben hoped they at least had a short reprieve from a criminal element running the town.

“All right, water’s done.” Allie cradled several full Nalgenes in a towel as she climbed the gentle slope of the riverbank.

Joel was right behind her with the five-gallon jug, while Brad and Emma tried to lure the dogs out of the water. Ben cringed when he thought about wet dogs in the recently organized and semi-clean Blazer.

“Gunner, here,” Ben called out sternly, getting Gunner’s immediate attention. The dog stopped panting for a second and dropped his head before walking slowly toward shore through the belly-high water. Sam followed grudgingly until all three dogs were standing in the shallows just inches from shore, where Bajer had been lounging in a muddy hole she’d dug.

“Come on, let’s go.” Ben grabbed a couple of towels and started toward the water, tossing one to Emma and another to Brad. “Better get these guys cleaned up a little.”

Sandy jumped in and helped with the dogs while Joel and Allie stowed the big water container and distributed the Nalgenes between the two vehicles. The dogs’ enthusiasm returned quickly once they realized they were getting toweled off, an activity they all seemed to enjoy almost as much as frolicking in the water. Ben capitalized on their momentum and got them loaded up into the vehicles as soon as they were clean enough.

He took one more look around the campsite to make sure they weren’t leaving anything here. They’d made camp fast and loose last night, and he didn’t feel like turning around in half an hour because someone left something behind. He ended his inspection alongside the Jeep, where Allie was already getting situated behind the wheel.

“Here, let me give you a hand with that.” Ben helped Brad shove the rolled sleeping bags into the remaining crevices among the other gear. His youngest had made himself and Gunner a tight but comfortable-looking nest in the bed of the Scrambler. But what Ben liked most about the improvised seat was that Brad was practically invisible from behind.

“Thanks, Dad.” Brad wiggled himself into place next to Gunner, making sure to keep the towel between them.

Ben patted his youngest on the shoulder and gave him a smile before moving up to Allie’s window. “You guys take the lead. We’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s the plan? I mean, I know we’re making our way around Kansas City, but are we looking for gas right away or what?” Joel slid the passenger seat back as far as it could go.

“Hey, watch it.” Brad scolded his brother.

“Sorry, man.” Joel adjusted the seat forward an inch.

“Let’s see what you have left in the tank. Go ahead and start it up,” Ben instructed.

Allie fired up the Jeep, and all eyes shifted to the fuel gauge.

“That’s what I figured based on the spot under the Jeep.” Ben shrugged. “Gas it is, then.”

5

Ben tried not to worry about the hole in the Scrambler’s fuel tank, but it was a hard problem to ignore. Stopping for gas twice as often as normal, or maybe even more than that, was not conducive to racking up the miles they needed to call the day a success. But there were other factors at play to consider as well. The most obvious and immediate concern was the danger of the Jeep’s undercarriage being covered in gasoline. One little spark or contact with a hot enough surface to ignite the veritable fuse dripping from the underbody of the Scrambler and they’d have a bonfire on their hands.

Another thought that was less concerning, but not by much, was performance. Ben wasn’t sure if the hole would affect the fuel system’s vacuum or carburetor in any way. It probably wasn’t an issue as long as they kept the tank level above the hole or close. He’d thought about trying to make another plug, but the dry grass and fuel-soaked ground at the campsite wasn’t exactly an ideal place to melt plastic with an open flame. Besides, the second he pulled the pen out of the hole, there was a good chance they’d lose a lot more gas before he could get it patched again.

The best place to try and make a repair would be at their next gas stop, before they filled up. And it would be best if the tank was almost empty so there was no fuel dripping out while he was trying to plug the hole. Running the Jeep’s fuel level down to below a quarter tank was risky, but what wasn’t these days? They had the jerry cans to fall back on, but deliberately running the Jeep to the point of almost empty meant they wouldn’t have the luxury of passing up a gas station even if they didn’t like the look of the place.

Ben mulled over their options as Sandy navigated the rough, dry ground back through what should have been a lush field full of vibrant green cornstalks. He meant to concentrate on coming up with a better solution for the Scrambler’s tank repair, but all he could think about was how tough the winter was going to be. It was hard to imagine, given the record-breaking high temperatures and drought-like conditions he’d seen so far this summer, but winter was only a few months away. And by the looks of things on their cross-country trip, food would be scarce.

Ben watched the Jeep claw its way through the last several yards of overgrown weeds that lined the highway’s shoulder. The smooth pavement felt like instant progress as the aggressively treaded tires sang out against the blacktop. The concrete divider that separated the double eastbound lanes from their side of the highway ended abruptly, leaving the entire four-lane road and grassy median wide open to view. The road was elevated above the surrounding farmland, allowing for a commanding view of the area. There wasn’t much to see, though: dead crops, empty pastures, and the occasional corpse of a farm animal that had been well picked over by the coyotes and buzzards.

Ben studied the atlas, trying to guess where the first gas station might be. His map didn’t show that kind of thing, but it was a pretty safe bet that he’d find something where the bigger roads intersected, a presumption that he’d found to be fairly reliable so far. But finding a gas station was the easy part. Finding one that didn’t look like trouble was a different story, and if he was being honest, they all looked like trouble.

He laid his pencil down on the atlas page and counted the notches he’d put into it with his thumbnail at one-mile increments, according to the map’s scale key. It was a quick way to ballpark distance.

“About ten miles to Henrietta,” he said. “Next town after that is Richmond. Should be able to find gas at one of those places.”

“It’s a shame. We’ve almost got a full tank.” Sandy lifted her hand off the wheel for a second and checked the Blazer’s gauges.

Ben had filled both trucks back at the impound yard in Sanctuary, but the Jeep lost most of the stolen fuel last night while they slept.

Ben sighed. “I know. Hopefully we can find a place that hasn’t been picked clean by looters. I need to find something better than a pen to fix the tank or the last thousand miles to Durango are going to hurt.”

“How many days do you think it will be before we get home?” Emma moved Bajer and leaned up between the front seats.

That was a loaded question, one Ben hesitated to answer. “Well, a lot can happen between here and there. You know that.” He turned to look at his daughter.

“I know, I know. But if you had to guess,” she persisted.

“Don’t hold me to it, but⁠—”

“I won’t,” Emma said impatiently.

“If we can get the Jeep fixed and get back to our old routine of driving all day, maybe under a week.” Ben actually hoped it would take less time than that but figured he should be conservative. His daughter said she wouldn’t hold him to his guess, but he had a feeling she’d put more weight in his answer than he wanted her to.

“Hmmf.” Emma sat back and resumed staring out at the sunbaked countryside.

Ben wasn’t sure if she was happy with his estimated time to Durango or not, but she seemed content enough. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about the answer to the question. If anything, he thought about it too much. But it was hard not to when they were this close. The nine hundred and some odd miles they had left to cover was nothing to discount, but the distance from home was shrinking at a satisfying pace now. They’d be in Kansas soon. Crossing the flat, almost featureless plains of a state known for its vast fields of wheat rather than its scenery was normally nothing to look forward to, but this time would be different.

Ben anxiously anticipated the road beyond Kansas City and Topeka, as they would be the last sizable cities they’d have to contend with. There were plenty of little towns scattered across the plains along I-70, but nothing big. Using secondary roads, they could skirt most of them in a matter of minutes rather than the hours it took them to drive around the larger municipalities. If it wasn’t for Kansas City, they’d have been on I-70 right now, making much better time.

Ben picked up the radio and raised the Jeep. “Come in, guys. Give me a fuel update, please. Over.”

“Still around a quarter tank. A little less, actually. Over,” Joel answered.

“There are a couple towns coming up in the next few miles. Let’s aim for Richmond and find a place to get gas there. Over.”

“Copy that. Over,” Joel signed off.

“And how are you feeling? Any better?” Sandy glanced at Ben’s bruised face.

The pills he’d washed down with his late-morning coffee were finally starting to numb his strained muscles. “Better.”

He was more battered and bruised than he’d ever been in his life, and in spite of his efforts to conceal the effects of this nightmarish road trip, his age was showing. That wasn’t something he found easy to admit, but he wasn’t the man he used to be. It was bound to happen sooner or later; it was part of life, after all, but the fall of civilization as they knew it had surely highlighted the fact that he was no longer a young man. He was only able to persevere by telling himself that once they made it back to Durango, he could rest and heal. He wasn’t sure that would be the case, but he clung to the thought, if only for the sake of his own morale.

All or nothing. That was the mentality he’d adopted. He had to, because those were the stakes attached to every situation they found themselves in. Everything would be better once they got home. Ben wasn’t so innocent as to think they’d all magically get their old lives back, not in the least. But there would be some sense of familiarity in their routine, and that was enough to sustain his aspirations for a better life after all this was over. That hope pushed him forward on a daily basis. He wasn’t sure what the future held. None of them did. But he found the resolve he needed to carry on in the promise he’d made to get them all home safe. Anything that came after that accomplishment was a bonus.

6

Ben checked in with the Jeep again via two-way and received the report he was expecting. The Scrambler was now critically low on gas, and with the next town—and hopefully the next gas station—coming up in another few miles, they were pushing their luck. They had a few gallons left in one of the jerry cans, if it came to that, but he had concerns beyond having to stop in the middle of the road and add gas to the Jeep.

It was never a good idea to draw fuel from the very bottom of the tank on a vehicle as old as the Jeep. Or the Blazer, for that matter. Running the tank so close to empty put them at risk of introducing foreign material into the fuel system and potentially causing bigger problems than the one they currently had on their hands.

The town of Henrietta had proven to be a bust as far as gas stations went. If Ben had blinked, he would have missed the tiny speck of a place on his map, and as it turned out, that wouldn’t have mattered. There was nothing to the place except a run-down feedlot that looked like it hadn’t seen action in years and the usual assortment of burned-out and vandalized houses and buildings along the road.

There was nothing unusual about the dried-up husk of a town. They’d seen plenty of places just like it in their travels. But for some reason, Ben couldn’t quite shake the sense of loss that he felt for those who used to call it home—or those who still did. It was probably a nice place to live at one time or another, but it had clearly been in decline for years. The EMPs were the nail in the coffin, and he imagined a little town like this would never make a comeback, not unlike so many others they’d passed through. Places like this were destined to wind up like the abandoned ghost towns that littered the backcountry of the San Juans around Durango.

“Come in. I see something up ahead. Over.” Joel’s voice broke the silence and was a welcome distraction to Ben’s growing worries about fuel.

Ben wiped the sweat from his face and grabbed the two-way. In this heat, he found it too easy to get caught up in his thoughts. Breaking camp in the middle of the day might not have been the best decision, but it was the only one he could stomach. The idea of waiting for cooler temperatures and losing another day was unacceptable. He did feel a little less guilty about pushing the trucks in this kind of heat now that they were slathered with the thermal barrier. It was a factor that helped him make up his mind about getting back on the road, although they were quickly discovering the rubber-like paint the kids had applied didn’t do as much for the temperature inside the vehicles as they’d hoped.

Ben held the button down with his thumb. “Go ahead. What do you see? Over.”

“Looks like a gas station on the left. It’s pretty intact, too. Over,” Joel reported.

Sandy let the Blazer drift into the left lane, sliding out of the Jeep’s draft so she and Ben could see for themselves. Joel was right; the Shell station ahead looked like it could have been open if not for the broken windows and shattered glass doors leading inside.

The closer they got to the gas station, the more damage Ben noticed, although the place had fared better than most they’d stopped at. There were a few other buildings nearby: the skeletal remains of a McDonald’s a few hundred yards down a side road and a Ford dealership across the street that had seen better days. Ben scoured the used car lot area on the side for a Chevy that might have a matching lug pattern and possible donor spare tire for the Blazer, but he saw nothing. He turned his attention back to the Shell station and made the call, although there was little choice in what needed to be done.

“Go ahead. You know the drill.” Ben pulled his AR-15 out from where he kept it wedged along the seat and held it across his lap with the barrel out the window. A few seconds later, he noticed Joel doing the same in the Jeep’s passenger seat. Brad’s head popped up from behind the pile of gear, and he eyeballed the Blazer before disappearing again. They were all on edge, and they had every right to be. A lot of the trouble they’d encountered on their trip had started in places just like this.

Allie steered the Jeep through the outskirts of the parking lot as she made her way around the fuel island and the battered remnants of the building. Sandy hung back without needing Ben to suggest she do just that.

“What do you think?” Emma leaned forward over the center console.

“I think it looks okay. No different than the rest of them.” Sandy sounded ready to stop.

But Ben wasn’t convinced this place was a better option than emptying the last couple of gallons from the jerry can into the Jeep and looking for the next gas station. He was as confident as he could be that the building was empty; they could see all the way through thanks to the lack of windows. However, he was still suspicious of their surroundings. But no amount of driving around the gas station parking lot or time spent staring at the neighboring businesses would change that.

“All right, cut through there and park in the shade. Let’s check this place out.” Ben pointed, and Sandy obliged, cutting their second pass short and bringing the Blazer to a stop under the fuel island canopy. Allie joined them from the other side of the parking lot and pulled in next to the Blazer, leaving the passenger windows adjacent to one another.

“Don’t we need to park over by the fill pipes?” Joel looked confused.

Ben popped his door open as Sandy cut the engine. “I want to see if I can do a better job plugging that hole before we fill up.”

Sam whined from the back of the Blazer while awkwardly trying to move around in the cramped space.

“I think Sam needs to go to the bathroom.” Emma sighed. “I’ll take her, I guess.”

Ben had hoped to keep the fuel stop as brief as possible, although they had more to accomplish now than they did during a normal stop. It wasn’t completely unpredictable, though; they had encouraged the dogs to drink their fill back at the river before getting on the road. After all, well-hydrated dogs meant the filtered water would last much longer for the two-legged members of the group, who had no choice but to rely on the limited amount of clean water they could carry. Judging by Sam’s urgent whimpers and frantic pacing, though, letting the dogs fill up on the dirty river water might not have been the best idea.

Emma climbed out over the console and out through the passenger door of the Blazer, coaxing Bajer to follow her. “Might as well let them all go, right?”

Ben sighed. “Might as well.”

There was no point in fighting the process, even though it felt wrong to be stopping already; they’d been on the road for less than an hour. At least Ben didn’t have to remind his daughter to take her weapon with her. Gunner, seeing the other two dogs outside the Blazer, helped himself and jumped from the Scrambler without waiting for an invitation.

Brad shimmied down the side of the Jeep using the back tire as a step, AR-15 hanging off him by the sling. They had enough of the carbines now for everyone to carry one, and Ben thought it was a good idea so they could share ammo in a pinch if need be.

“I’ll go with her,” Brad announced before running after Gunner, who was trying to catch Emma and the other dogs as they headed for the edge of the searing-hot pavement and the brown grass beyond.

“Thanks, buddy. Stay close, okay?” Ben instructed.

“Yep,” Brad answered without slowing his pace.

Joel was already on the ground, inspecting the Jeep’s gas tank, while Allie and Sandy started to unpack the fuel pump and hose. Ben joined his son on the ground and crawled under the Scrambler with his flashlight ready. The hole wasn’t currently leaking, but that was only because the fuel level was too low. When Ben gently poked at the patch he’d made from the melted pen with his fingers, it nearly fell off.

“Well, that’s not going to work anymore, is it?” Ben held the light on the hole as he tried to think of a solution. He initially thought that, if nothing else, he could melt the plastic again and reform it into the hole, but that wouldn’t be possible. The fuel had changed the composition of the plastic in a way that left it porous and brittle, crumbling in his hand at the slightest pressure. It was a wonder the temporary fix had lasted so long.

It was clear that they were going to need something else to plug the tank, and he wasn’t going to find it under the Jeep. He’d search the remains of the gas station building for something before sacrificing anything else from their gear.

“Let’s take a look inside and see what we can find.” Ben slid out from under the Jeep and grabbed his rifle. Allie and Sandy were ready to help, abandoning the unpacked refueling equipment. Ben was going to have them start filling the jerry tanks, but the more eyes they had scouring the trashed store for something useful, the better. He wasn’t counting on finding epoxy, but there had to be something he could use inside the looted shell of a store.

Ben glanced over at Brad and Emma, making sure they were all right and not letting the dogs wander too far from the parking lot. He didn’t like letting his youngest out of his sight, even if they were just several yards away, but he also didn’t want the dogs anywhere near the broken glass scattered around the gas station.

“Get ’em loaded back up when they’re done,” Ben called out.

Brad didn’t answer but gave a thumbs-up to the request. At least Ben would be able to keep an eye on the kids through the broken windows of the convenience store. Between the four of them, they ought to be able to give the place a thorough going-over in just a couple of minutes. Ben was determined not to waste too much time here. And if they came up empty-handed, he’d melt another patch from whatever he could find in the trucks, and they’d move on. There’d be other places to search along the way. Another temporary fix was better than staying here too long and inviting trouble.

7

Allie and Joel were the first ones up onto the sidewalk surrounding the store. They stepped lightly, but the crunch of glass underfoot was unavoidable. It didn’t really matter, though; if anyone was hiding inside, they would have already heard the trucks pull in. Ben let them take the lead, mostly because he was pretty sure they were alone but also because he thought it was a good learning experience and a chance for him to witness their acumen when entering an unknown space.

Allie held her rifle firmly in both hands and used her foot to push the bent aluminum door frames apart, plowing a pile of glass shards and discarded food wrappers across the smooth tile floor. Joel was shoulder to shoulder with her and immediately started clearing the aisles of empty shelves one after another.

The ransacked convenience store wasn’t that large, and it didn’t take Joel long to make sure there weren’t any immediate threats. Ben took it upon himself to check out the back of the place, including the small kitchen, which stank of rancid fry oil and rotten food. Satisfied they were safe from any unwanted surprises, he made his way back out front, where the kids and Sandy were already searching for anything the looters might have missed.

Sandy emerged from the restrooms with her shirt pulled up over her nose. “All clear.”

Ben let his rifle down and spun the weapon around to his back. He got down on the floor and used his flashlight to search under the bare shelves.

“Not much left here but trash,” Allie stated.

Ben got up slowly, put his flashlight away, and spun all the way around where he stood, giving the place a quick glance before admitting what he’d assumed. “It was worth a shot.” He shrugged.

“Now what? Melt another pen, I guess,” Joel suggested.

“No, I mean, if we have to, but that type of plastic doesn’t hold up very well to gasoline. That’s why the leak has been getting worse.” Ben continued looking around the place, but he was thinking about a solution to their problem more than he was looking for anything now.

It was hard to be too disappointed when he hadn’t really expected to find anything in the first place. Resorting to using another melted piece of plastic seemed like a waste of time considering they’d be in the same position by the next fuel stop or sooner.

“What about this?” Sandy tugged at the rubber gasket hanging off one of the refrigeration unit doors at the back of the store; the row of coolers had been emptied of drinks long ago.

“I’m not sure it’s the right kind of material, but it’s worth a try.” Ben produced a pocketknife to cut off a piece of the gasket, but she was way ahead of him.

“I got it.” She sliced through the thick gasket material with her own knife and tossed it to Ben with a hopeful smile. “Worth a try, right?”

Ben nodded, looking the piece of rubber over for a moment before shoving it into his back pocket. Allie and Joel led the way out over the glass-covered sidewalk. Sandy followed while Ben lagged behind several feet. He wasn’t ready to give up yet but knew the search was over. He’d use the piece of gasket and they’d limp along until they found a more promising place to search for a solution.

Back outside, Ben got busy prepping for the tank repair while the others got to work filling the jerry cans until the Scrambler was ready to hold gas. Before crawling under the jeep, he checked on his youngest two with the dogs and saw that they were still lingering in the adjacent, empty lot.

Emma caught him watching them. “I don’t think Sam is feeling too good. She’s still going.”

“That’s okay. We’re going to be here for a few more minutes.” Ben watched as Sam staggered around and squatted yet again in a different spot. The river water must not have agreed with her, and she was paying the price now. Bajer hadn’t complained like Sam, but she was also hobbling around the barren lot, suffering from uncontrollable diarrhea as well.

Great, just what we needed.

Not only were at least two of the dogs sick, but they’d need extra water to stay hydrated now that they were losing fluids. So much for making any real progress today. Ben shook his head and finished gathering what he needed from the toolbox: a file to clean the metal around the hole and something else he’d just thought of that might make the gasket piece take hold a little better. Ben held the T-handle tire plug tool in his hand and wondered if his idea would work. There was only one way to find out.

He slid under the Jeep with everything he needed, including the leather gloves he should have been wearing last time. He prepped the damaged area by removing any grime and remaining pen fragments from the metal. Then he cut a strip off the gasket piece just a little bit bigger than the quarter-inch chink in the tank. Threading the rubber strip through the T-handle tool, Ben pulled equal parts of the material through the eye, then rolled out from under the jeep and the leaky tank before holding a lighter to the rubber strip. It didn’t take long for the gasket piece to catch on fire and begin to melt. He blew the flame out, and after making sure there was nothing left that could ignite the remaining fuel in the tank, he forced the piece of almost-liquid rubber into the hole.

Once the bulk of the gasket was inside, he placed a gloved hand over the entire thing and extracted the tool slowly, making sure to leave a healthy amount of melted gasket inside the tank. After tossing the tool aside, Ben continued to form the pliable material around the damaged area as best he could, pulling his hand away as the rubber hardened. He used his finger to fine-tune some of the thinner spots until he was happy. He took the sticky, hot glove off and removed the flashlight from his mouth.

“That looks really good, actually,” Joel said. “You think it’ll work?”

“Let’s find out.” Ben gathered his tools and rolled out from under the Jeep, feeling much more optimistic about the repair than he’d anticipated. The patch was an improvement over the pen, and although he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much, he was sure it would perform better than the pen as long as the rubber didn’t dissolve.

Allie was ready and drove the Jeep over to the vent pipe, where Joel was waiting with the pump. Ben decided they might as well top the Blazer off while they were here, just in case a minor miracle occurred and the patch held.

The Chevy only needed a few gallons to reach full, and in a matter of ten minutes or less, they were ready to get back on the road and leave this dismal town behind. All they needed were Emma, Brad, and the dogs.

Ben lashed the jerry cans down to the cargo rack, but as he was finishing up, he heard Emma call out for Sam. He knew something was wrong immediately by the tone of her voice. He spun around to see Brad returning with Gunner and Bajer.

“We can’t find Sam.” The look on Brad’s face divulged that this was more than a case of simple stubbornness on Sam’s part.

“What do you mean?” Joel headed toward the vacant lot.

“She took off after a rabbit,” Brad confessed.

“How do you lose a dog out here?” Joel held his hands up and glanced around at the mostly flat, barren landscape.

The news instantly sank Ben’s spirits as he watched the rest of the day slip from his grasp. Two steps forward and one step backward. He wasn’t sure why he expected anything else these days.

“Brad, get Gunner and Bajer loaded up, please. And how about you guys pull the trucks back under the canopy?” Ben looked at Sandy and Allie as he followed Joel toward the empty lot, where Emma was still calling out for the missing dog.

It was already hot enough; there was no need to let the trucks cook further under the unforgiving midday sun. And Ben had an ulterior motive for moving the trucks as well. Tucked away in the shadows of the fuel canopy, they’d be less visible from the highway. They hadn’t exactly been stealthy while gassing up, but now that Emma was shouting for Sam at the top of her lungs, Ben felt like they were sure to attract attention.

When he and Joel reached Emma, her face was flush, and she looked ready to cry.

“I don’t understand. How could she disappear like that? She ran behind those bushes, and she was gone,” Emma huffed. “I think there was a rabbit or something.”

“We’ll find her. She can’t be far.” Ben tried his best to assure his daughter that Sam would be all right, but her frustration was only exacerbated by the intense heat.

“Dad and I can find her. Why don’t you head back to the others?” Joel suggested.

“That’s a good idea. And get some water in you,” Ben added.

Emma looked disappointed but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned and started for the vehicles. Ben and Joel resumed the search, calling for Sam but not quite as loudly as Emma had been. It wasn’t unusual for Sam to ignore orders; the dog had a stubborn streak, but her hearing was fine, especially when the crinkle of a treat packet was involved. And if she’d pursued a rabbit, it wouldn’t be long before the animal outmaneuvered the old dog and she gave up. At least that was what Ben hoped.

He and Joel headed toward the tuft of brown, leafless scrub brush at the far corner of the lot that Emma had pointed out. He was more worried than angry, although it was a challenge to hide his annoyance from the kids. As far as the younger two were concerned, it might as well have been Jack himself who was lost out here somewhere. But all that aside, Ben had made a promise to take care of Sam and do everything in his power to make sure she made it home with them, and he intended to keep his word, barring any acts of nature beyond his control.

Sam was no pup, and although he wasn’t entirely sure of the dog’s age, she was pushing the envelope for a Labrador retriever. Before embarking on their journey from Maryland, Ben had worried that Sam might struggle with the trek westward. Surprisingly, however, the open road seemed to infuse her with renewed vigor, as if the very act of traveling revitalized her spirit. Ben attributed that to the dog being right at home in the back of the truck. She always loved a good car ride through the countryside, something Jack often did with his best friend. But this was no lazy Sunday afternoon. And they were a long way from home, in a strange place.

8

Ben motioned for Joel to take the lead and investigate the raised cluster of vegetation while he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the dog in the other direction, along with any activity on the highway. This was just the type of thing likely to distract them while unwanted visitors closed in on their location.

“Dad, come here. I found something.” Joel was barely visible behind the thicket, and Ben held his breath as he joined his son, half expecting to find Sam lying on the ground, passed out or worse. Maybe this heat was too much for the old dog. But instead, he found Joel alone, staring down a concrete culvert that was almost as deep as Ben was tall. The empty channel hadn’t seen water in a while, leaving the bottom covered in a thin layer of crusty soil that clearly showed signs of a struggle.

Ben pulled the rifle around from his back and dropped to a crouched position as he studied the tracks and tried to decipher what they meant. Sam’s paw prints ran past the scrub brush and down into the old waterway, where they disappeared into a mess of human footprints that had broken through the dried crust of dirt at the bottom.

He tried to deny the obvious, but after only a few seconds, he was forced to acknowledge the evidence laid out in front of him. Sam hadn’t wandered off of her own accord. Initially, maybe she had, but there was more to her sudden disappearance than that. She’d been lured to this location and taken.

Joel scooted down the sloped concrete channel, landing in the flat bottom of the dry waterway, just a few inches from the disturbed ground. He studied the tracks and followed the two sets of footprints that led away from the area, farther down the ditch.

“Sam’s tracks end here.” Joel traced the dog’s entry point down to the broken layer of baked ground with his finger, then continued to the two sets of human footprints that headed east through the oversized gutter.

Ben slid down the forty-five-degree concrete embankment, coming to a stop next to his son, but his focus was on the footprints. He noticed they were deep and uneven, suggesting that whoever made them had been in a hurry. The prints led away from the empty lot, where the path narrowed and converged into a single line.

Ben regretted not bringing the radio with him, but why would he have? What had started out as a simple task to retrieve a stubborn dog had quickly escalated into a rescue mission.

“Joel, I need you to run back and let the others know what’s going on. Have them wait at the gas station, but tell them to park behind the building so they can’t be seen from the highway. Then come back. I’ll wait here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Joel answered, then snapped into action, climbing out of the ditch and sprinting for the others without hesitation.

“And grab the radio,” Ben added.

He felt guilty for sending the boy back and forth in this oppressive heat, but he’d neglected to wear the knee brace today, seeing as how Sandy was driving. The thing made his leg sweat nonstop, and he didn’t think he needed to wear it while riding shotgun in the Blazer. Ben waited impatiently with the understanding that each passing second meant the culprits were getting farther away with Sam, although the dog would be a handful if she was being carried, which appeared to be the case.

Sam was no longer the trim, athletic, duck-hunting machine she’d once been. He didn’t know her exact weight, but if he had to guess, she’d probably tipped the scales around sixty-five pounds, although they’d all lost a little bit off their waistlines since the start of this trip.

Ben was jolted back to reality by pounding footsteps from above. Joel had returned, covered in sweat and radio in hand.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he panted.

Ben took the radio and clipped it to his belt after turning the volume all the way down. “All right, let’s go get Sam back.” He had every intention of retrieving Sam from whoever had taken her, but he knew time was against them.

There was only one reason he could think of to steal an animal, and it made his skin crawl, triggering flashbacks of the moonshiners’ camp, where they’d found Bajer by the makeshift butcher station. Ben’s heart quickened as he pressed on, worried about what he might find at the end of this trail. He carefully navigated the concrete trench, listening for any sounds that might give them clues as to Sam’s whereabouts or health, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger or the missing dog.

They reached a fork in the culvert. The left path led out toward an open field, while the right went back toward town and the highway.

“They go right.” Joel pointed to the footprints in the dirt.

Ben took the right channel toward town and caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. Cautiously, he approached and discovered a small, silver dog tag partially buried in the sand. The name “Sam,” along with Jack’s address, was engraved on it, confirming that these were the footprints of the dognappers. He and Joel were on the right track.

Fueled by a newfound determination, Ben hastened his steps; his commitment to locating Sam and ensuring her safe return to the rest of the group was unwavering. While his mission was centered on rescue, his relentless drive stemmed from his unwillingness to let down the children and the pledge he’d made to Jack. Ben had always prided himself on his composed nature and ability to maintain objectivity even in the most challenging of circumstances. Yet he felt the stronghold of reason gradually giving way to a surge of anger and an overwhelming desire for retribution.

The culvert led them into a stormwater retention pond located behind an industrial park consisting of metal warehouse-type buildings. While most of the commercial-style units were intact, they’d all been broken into, with a large majority of the overhead loading doors missing or forced open. The footprints ended at the corner of the pond, where the sloped edges leading up and out of the basin were covered in dead grass.

Ben crouched and checked on Joel behind him. “I’m guessing they went through there.” He crept to the top of the dry pond’s edge, eyeing the parted section of chain-link fence that was the only obvious way out of the stormwater system.

“You think they’re in one of those buildings?” Joel asked.

“We’re about to find out. Stay here and be ready to cover me while I get to the building. Then you come when I give you the signal.” Ben waited for Joel to nod, then slipped through the busted fence and ran across the parking lot to the row of warehouses. He stopped behind a dumpster and took a second to listen for anything that might give away Sam’s location, but the only sound he heard was the thumping of his heart. He checked the windows of the building for movement, then made his way around the dumpster and took a position outside one of the open garage doors.

He glanced back and waved for Joel to join him, then turned his attention back to the warehouse.

As Joel advanced, the building’s long shadow reached across the parking area, providing the first real relief from the unrelenting sun since they’d begun the search. Joel wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt but froze solid when he heard a muffled whimper followed by unintelligible but recognizably frantic and hushed conversation.

He bumped his dad with his elbow. “Did you hear that?”

Ben nodded. Joel could feel the tension building in his muscles, listening for any sounds that would signal the potential movement of the bad guys responsible for this colossal waste of their time. However, the silence remained uninterrupted. Had their approach to the building been detected by the people they were tracking?

Joel knew better than to push his dad in a situation like this, but it was hard not to ask why they weren’t going in now. His dad knew best—he had no doubts about that—but it was hard to sit here while Sam was being…

He stopped himself from thinking that way. It wasn’t helping to calm his nerves or slow his racing heart. Instead, he did his best to concentrate on his breathing and trying to get his emotions under control, like his dad had taught him.

Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. Joel repeated the mantra several times to himself. That was the formula that had gotten them this far, and it would get Sam back, just like it would get them home.

9

Ben fought the urge to rush into the building and rescue Sam from these miscreants, but the contrast between the bright sunlight and the dark interior of the warehouse would all but render him and Joel blind if they didn’t allow their eyes to adjust here in the shadows first. He clenched his jaw, trying to be patient, but then another muffled yelp came from inside the building, louder this time. What were they doing to Sam?

“Dad, we have to do something,” Joel urged.

“We have to be able to see what we’re doing. We don’t even know how many there are,” Ben said, but Joel was right. The farthest corners of the warehouse’s interior were still as black as night, and it was impossible to discern one shape from another, but they were out of time. He could feel it in his gut. Sam’s life could very well depend on him and Joel making a move now rather than when the timing was right.

“Stay behind me,” Ben instructed, then slipped inside, weapon first.

He found a stack of pallets loaded with boxes and concealed himself until Joel entered, being mindful not to crush any of the scattered Styrofoam peanuts that had spilled from the damaged crates. The looters had abandoned their search once they unearthed the contents of the parcels—evidently electronic components of some kind—leaving behind a scene of disarray and a potential minefield of noisy packing material.

Ben navigated the scattered Styrofoam pieces strewn across the floor, making his way toward a row of towering shelves that reached the ceiling. Each shelf was laden with an array of boxes similar to the ones that had been busted open, offering visual concealment but little else. Judging by the untouched state of the surrounding area, it appeared that the looters had dismissed the rest of the room, likely presuming there was nothing of significant value to be found within.

“Kill it already. Nobody’s following us,” a voice growled.

“It’s our only bargaining chip. You saw those people. Every one of ’em was armed,” another voice reasoned.

“They ain’t comin’. Besides, we can’t afford to give the dog back. I can’t even remember when we had meat last,” the man stated.

Ben discovered a narrow gap between two boxes and peered through it, catching sight of two men huddled over a table with Sam lying on its surface. The unfortunate dog had her paws and mouth tightly secured with duct tape. She struggled sporadically but couldn’t free herself.

The sight of Sam, restrained and helpless, sent a surge of fury through Ben’s veins. He clenched his jaw to contain the raw emotion threatening to overwhelm him. The dognappers’ callousness was palpable, the disregard for Sam’s well-being evident in their body language and tone.

Ben lived by a set of rules when it came to taking a life, but that code was beginning to blur with anger, seeming less reasonable by the second. With a deep breath, he assessed the situation, plotting his next move with calculated precision. Then, without warning, one of the men raised a knife. He hesitated while preparing to drive it downward into Sam.

Screw the rules. These weren’t people—they were animals.

Ben kicked a stack of free-standing plastic bins at the end of the shelving unit, sending them tumbling across the floor with a crash. “Hey!”

Both men turned, but Ben had already decided on his course of action.

Crack… crack… crack… crack… crack.

Ben opened fire from where he was. There was no time to negotiate with these subhuman monsters, and even if there was, he didn’t want to. It was his job to get his family home, not try to reform scum like this. At less than twenty yards, all five of Ben’s shots found their targets with pinpoint accuracy. Both men hit the smooth concrete floor with a slap, leaving Sam scared and squirming on the oversized worktable. Joel rushed to Sam’s aid while Ben alternately maintained a bead on the two bodies with his rifle. He figured they were dead, based on the rapidly expanding pools of blood growing around their bodies, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

The room fell into an eerie silence, punctuated only by Sam’s distressed whimpers and the sound of Joel’s soothing voice as he attempted to comfort the trembling, wild-eyed dog. Ben’s gaze remained fixed on the lifeless bodies, his expression steely and unwavering. The weight of his actions settled heavily on his shoulders, but he did his best to push aside any trace of doubt about what he’d done. He’d acted to protect his own.

With cautious steps, he approached the table, his grip on the rifle loosening as he assessed the situation. Joel’s reassuring presence calmed Sam’s frantic movements as he cut the tape with his pocketknife. Ben felt a rush of relief wash over him, and he laid his hand on Sam’s head, his touch gentle yet urgent. Sam whimpered softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and gratitude, as if she understood the danger they had faced and what they’d done to ensure her safety.

“Easy there, girl,” Ben murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ve got you. You’re all right now.”

“Come on, girl. I gotcha.” Joel helped Sam onto the floor and gave her a quick once-over. “I think she’s okay.”

Ben exchanged somber glances with Joel while the gravity of what had just gone down sank in, along with the realization of just how close they’d come to losing Sam. The echoes of their recent confrontation lingered in the air, a blunt reminder of the harsh reality they faced every day. Amid the hushed tension, Ben’s mind raced, swiftly formulating a plan to ensure their safe departure from the precarious location. With a quick, calculated glance around the room, he discerned potential entry points. After the noise he’d just made, every fiber of his being was attuned to the need for caution. Sam’s captors might not have been alone.

“Joel, we need to move,” Ben instructed, his tone conveying a sense of urgency. “Keep an eye out for trouble.”

Joel nodded in silent understanding, gently coaxing Sam to her feet and guiding her toward the door. Ben kept his head on a swivel, scanning his surroundings for any sign of movement or impending danger. They had Sam, but now was no time to let their guard down.

Ben signaled for them to halt near the overhead door they had initially entered through. He scanned the parking lot meticulously, ensuring it was safe for a swift exfil from the warehouse. Not detecting any immediate threats, Ben moved to the dumpster, taking a position over the top of the rusty trash receptacle so he could cover Joel.

“All right, back through the fence,” Ben instructed.

Joel started for the dried-out stormwater retention pond with his weapon at the ready. Sam followed but wasn’t keeping up. It was then that Ben noticed Sam was limping; her leg was bothering her again. It was no wonder after she’d been manhandled by the two thugs who now lay dead on the floor twenty feet away.

“Wait a minute. Get back here.” As soon as Joel was close enough, Ben grabbed his shoulder and guided him back into the shadows of the building.

Sam stopped in the middle of the parking lot and stared at them both for a second before changing direction and limping back their way. The gas station was at least a half mile from here through hundred-degree-plus heat. Sam was in no shape to make the hike back, injury notwithstanding. And without the knee brace, Ben wasn’t too thrilled with the prospect, either. Besides, at the speed Sam was moving, it would take too long to get back to the others on foot—if they made it at all.

“She won’t be able to make it back to the trucks on that leg,” Ben stated.

Joel quickly chimed in. “So what’s the plan, then? I can carry her.”

Ben shook his head. “It’s too risky. I need you ready to back me up in case we run into trouble. The girls are going to have to come get us.”

Ben pulled the radio from his belt. He’d meant to give the others an update as soon as he knew what was going on, but in the excitement of the rescue and because of the subsequent need to flee the area, he’d forgotten all about it.

“Come in, Sandy. We’re okay and we have Sam. But we need you to come get us. Over.” Ben waited for a response while he did his best to find a clean part of his shirt to clear the stinging sweat from his eyes.

Sandy answered right away. “Roger that. We’re ready. Where are you? Over.”

Her quick response gave Ben an instant boost of confidence and energy. On the way here through the culvert pipe, he had paid attention and kept track of their bearings using a water tower on the other side of the highway from the warehouses.

“You need to head east again, but only about a half mile or so. You see the water tower? Over.” Ben waited.

“We see it. Over,” Sandy answered.

Ben peeked outside and double-checked their location. “We’re across the street in the warehouses. You’ll have to go past us a little and turn around. We’ll be ready on the westbound side of the highway. Over.”

“Roger that. We’re on our way. Over,” Sandy responded, her voice partially drowned out by the Blazer’s throaty exhaust.

This was a better plan than him and Joel exhausting themselves of what energy they had left as they tried to backtrack to the trucks with a wounded dog. There was also the added benefit of the others moving away from the gas station. The Blazer and the Jeep had been sitting still for too long.

“Well, that makes things a lot easier.” Joel’s eyes brightened.

“We’ll need to move fast and stay sharp,” Ben said, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re not out of the woods just yet.”

10

Ben surveyed the warehouse’s interior and determined that it was safest to leave through the front of the building now that they weren’t using the network of drainage ditches to link up with the others. Avoiding the rear parking lot and the row of open garage doors running along the backside of the looted warehouses would be wise, especially considering Sam’s condition and their inability to move with any real speed.

He quickly checked the dog, examining her injured leg. Thankfully, there was no visible injury, but she seemed to have strained herself while trying to wriggle free of the duct tape. They might have to carry her, but the farther she could move on her own, the better.

Joel exhaled through tight lips. “Same leg as before.”

“Yeah, looks that way. You might end up having to carry her, but not yet. Let’s see what it looks like out front. If we can get out that way, it will put us closer to the highway. I don’t want Sandy or Allie pulling off the main road and into the industrial park.” Ben started moving for the door on the other side of the warehouse.

“Come on, girl.” Joel coaxed Sam along, but it was clear the dog wouldn’t be winning any races in the near future.

Ben kept an eye on Sam, who was trying to mask the pain in her eyes, her determination unwavering despite the evident strain. With a reassuring nod, he joined Joel in encouraging her to follow them as they quietly made their way toward the front exit, their footsteps muffled by the dimly lit warehouse’s concrete floor. Seeing Sam suffer from something that could have easily been avoided rekindled Ben’s hatred of the men who’d abducted her, absolving him of all guilt as they passed the bloodied, lifeless bodies lying around the table where Sam had been bound.

Finally reaching the door at the far end of the warehouse, Ben held them all at the opening while he came up with a plan. The clock was ticking, and Ben was certain their window of opportunity to get out of here without encountering resistance was rapidly shrinking. Taking the front entrance would minimize their exposure, but they’d eventually have to make a dash for the highway. That meant traversing a hundred yards of open parking lot and landscaped beds in order to reach the shoulder of the westbound lane and soon-to-be-waiting vehicles.

Ben’s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his rifle, his senses on high alert. The creak of the door hinges reverberated through the empty space, and they were suddenly bathed in the harsh light of day, their eyes adjusting to the brightness. The scene outside was eerily quiet, the abandoned parking lot stretching out before them like a desolate wasteland. Ben scanned the area, searching for any signs of movement or lurking danger, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Listen.” Joel froze. With his arm over Sam, he crouched by the edge of the doorframe in the shadows.

“It’s the girls.” Ben recognized the Blazer’s exhaust note immediately, then the Jeep’s. The concrete divider separating the east- and westbound lanes would prevent the others from turning directly into the industrial park, forcing them to drive another half mile or so down the road. Sandy and Allie would have to execute a U-turn at the end of the barrier and cross the weed-choked median to rendezvous with them on the westbound side of the highway. The situation was less than ideal, not just because of the open ground between the warehouses and the road but because it gave any would-be attackers two opportunities to take a shot at the trucks as they passed by.

Ben spotted a lone box truck at the edge of the parking lot toward the highway. It sported the same name as the stacked boxes of electronic parts inside. It wasn’t ideal cover, but it was their only option.

“Go for the truck when I say to.” Ben swept his gaze across the area once more, checking for any threats or unexpected surprises.

Satisfied they were momentarily secure, he exhaled a tense breath, his mind already mapping out their next piece of cover: a sign surrounded by dead shrubs beyond the delivery truck at the entrance to the parking lot.

“Let’s go.” Ben led as they cautiously stepped into the open. After a few paces, he dropped back. “Keep going. I’m right behind you.”

With silent determination, they set off across the open expanse, their progress steady yet cautious. Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of their vulnerability bearing down on them as they navigated the terrain. Joel made the truck first and tucked down behind the hood, looking back over the parking lot with his rifle. Ben wanted to run, but he wasn’t going to leave Sam behind.

His heart sank as he watched Sam struggle, her panting growing more arduous with each step. “Come on, girl. Just a little bit farther,” he urged, his voice laced with both concern and determination. He felt bad for the old dog, but that didn’t shorten the distance they had to cover or help ease the obvious pain she was experiencing with each labored step. Ben wished he had some water for the dog; he wouldn’t mind taking a drink himself, not that he had time for that.

They couldn’t afford to move at this pace, not with the noise they’d already made and the girls’ imminent arrival at the agreed-upon meeting point. The longer he and Joel made them wait in the vehicles on the shoulder, the more likely they’d become targets.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of Joel’s gun shattered the tense silence, jolting Ben into action. His instincts kicked in, and he forced himself into a sprint, swinging the heavy weight of his carbine around to his back. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he closed the distance to Sam, the urgency of the moment drowning out the pain in his own body.

Ben lowered his body and planted a knee on the searing pavement, hoisting Sam onto his shoulders in one swift movement. Bullets whizzed past, the distinct sound of rounds hitting the pavement spurring his efforts. The added weight made his movements more cumbersome, but he pushed on, driven by the need to keep both himself and the injured dog out of harm’s way.

Every muscle in his body strained as he ran awkwardly toward Joel and the relative safety of the truck, his focus locked on the goal ahead. Ben dropped to the ground behind the front axle, letting Sam down onto the blacktop once more.

“Stay.” Ben ordered the dog to sit while pulling his AR-15 around from its slung position, although he couldn’t imagine her going anywhere.

Joel ducked behind the truck’s hood as another couple of rounds chipped into the windshield, sending pulverized glass particles into the air. Ben checked the highway, judging the distance they still had to cover to meet the others, then turned to answer their assailants with a few shots of his own.

Crack… crack… crack. Ben didn’t have a clear shot at their attackers, but his bullets struck close to the shooters’ hiding spot and bought them a few moments of peace.

“I want you to carry Sam to the sign. Then cover me. We’re gonna have to leapfrog all the way out to the highway.” Ben tipped his head toward the landscaped island that held the ground-based sign for the industrial park. The sign’s material looked flimsy, but the elevated dirt mound and stone retaining wall that surrounded the dead shrubs and flowers would provide all the cover they needed.

This was exactly the type of situation Ben had hoped to avoid but somehow knew he wouldn’t. The last shreds of humanity were long gone. Society had fully degraded to a state of shoot first and ask questions later. That had been the case long before this particular incident, but those who sought to do them harm had reached whole new levels of recklessness and desperation.

Joel slid his rifle around to his back and got into position to pick up Sam. The dog fought him at first but eventually settled down once her feet were off the ground.

Ben popped over the hood of the truck, sending two more shots downrange. “Go.”

Joel didn’t hesitate and started for the landscaped island while Ben kept their attackers pinned down with covering fire. The incoming shots had slowed in frequency. With any luck, they were running low on ammunition or maybe rethinking the risk-to-reward ratio of their ill-conceived plan to prey on Sam.

Ben had about half a magazine left for his rifle and the fully loaded Glock to fall back on. He could hold these guys at bay, but not for long, and he regretted not having Joel grab a few spare magazines when he went for the radio. He wasn’t expecting to get into a full-blown firefight, although at this point, that was no excuse not to be prepared. He should have anticipated the situation.

Ben glanced back and saw that Joel and Sam were securely tucked behind the sign and raised landscaping. It was his turn to gain some ground on the rendezvous point.

“Come in, Ben. Are you okay? We’re close. Over.” Sandy sounded worried, and she had every right to be.

They were trading shots with at least three people, from what Ben could tell, all of them armed and shooting from the busted-out windows of the warehouse he and Joel had just left. There was no question that these people were associated with the two that had nabbed Sam. Even if they’d given up on recapturing the dog, they’d want revenge for their two companions that Ben had dispatched inside the warehouse.

“Come in, Sandy. I need you to stay put until you see us by the road. I repeat, hold your position until you see us on the road. Over.” Ben secured the radio to his belt, hoping Sandy took the new orders to heart. If the girls pulled up too early, they’d be in the line of fire. Ben would let her know when it was time, but for now, the safest place for them was anywhere but here.

11

Joel braced himself against the landscaped berm, stealing quick glances over the sign before ducking or returning fire. Sam sat behind him, licking her injured leg intermittently as she seemed to try and soothe herself.

In the midst of the chaotic firefight, Joel couldn’t help but replay the scene of his dad confronting the two men who had grabbed Sam. The memory was etched in his mind. His father’s usually restrained demeanor had been replaced by a decisive and lethal edge. It wasn’t the first time they had to confront dangerous situations, nor was it the first time they had to make morally complex decisions for the sake of survival. But something about the recent incident lingered in Joel’s thoughts.

His father’s transformation since they left Colorado was undeniable. The man who once valued every life and sought nonlethal solutions had hardened and was now unflinching in the face of violence. Joel recalled the times when his dad would playfully ambush him with snowballs after school, the joy in his eyes, the warmth in his smile. But those moments felt like distant memories, blurred out by the severity of their current reality.

The road trip had left its mark on all of them, stripping away their innocence layer by layer. Even Joel’s brother and sister, usually brimming with excitement and curiosity, now bore the weight of fear and suspicion. They had all grown callous and untrusting to some degree, or at least their attitudes suggested so. Yet Joel couldn’t help but wonder if he was deflecting his own internal turmoil by focusing on the changes in others, using their altered personas to rationalize the shift in his attitude and his outlook on life.

A stray bullet whizzed past, snapping Joel back to the present. Their lives had become a mess of conflicting emotions smothered in doubt about the future. But none of that would matter if he didn’t get in the game and help his dad get them back to the others. Joel waited for the right moment and returned fire.

Crack… crack.

He sent two shots into the warehouse, narrowly missing one of the shooters by a couple of inches. His dad took advantage of the covering fire and ran for Joel and Sam’s position behind the sign. Joel made sure to send a few more rounds into the metal skin of the warehouse just under an open window, where one of the shooters was taking potshots at them. After the initial noise of the gunshots subsided and the ringing in his ears faded, Joel heard a man howl in misery from inside the building. He’d hit one of them, and although he couldn’t see what kind of damage he’d done, he found himself hoping the wound was fatal.

“I got one, I think,” Joel shouted, then ducked behind the retaining wall as his dad slid to a stop in the brown grass alongside Sam.

“Good.” His dad congratulated him, but Joel could tell he was only half interested; he was already scouting their next position. “The ditch, that’s our next move.”

Joel’s gaze shifted from the warehouse to the challenging terrain ahead. The dense weeds and tall grass lining both sides of the drainage ditch made it clear that traversing it quickly would be no easy feat. Adding to the difficulty was the task of carrying Sam, a burden that weighed equally as heavy on Joel’s mind as it did on his body. He couldn’t help but feel remorse for the dog, recognizing the pain, fear, and confusion reflected in her eyes. The sense of guilt gnawed at him, as if he had let down his grandfather and was personally responsible for Sam ending up in such a precarious situation. Despite the urgency of their escape, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility for Sam’s plight. His grandfather had entrusted him with the care of the dog, and now, in the chaos of their current predicament, he couldn’t help but feel like he had failed both his grandfather and Sam. The weight of culpability settled heavily on his shoulders, amplifying the tension and anxiety already pulsating through his veins.

“It’s all right, girl. We’re almost out of this mess.” Joel rubbed Sam’s head, trying to comfort the dog as well as himself.

This was no time to feel sorry for himself. His dad and Sam were counting on him to be present in the moment. With determined resolve, he pushed aside the waves of self-doubt, focusing on the task at hand and the necessity of getting both himself and Sam to safety. They couldn’t afford to falter now.

“I’ve got Sam,” Joel announced as he positioned himself to grab the dog once more and run as soon as his dad gave the go-ahead.

They all ducked as an incoming round kicked up a puff of stone dust from the retaining wall.

“Now.” Ben squeezed off a round over the landscaped mound.

Joel didn’t wait to see if his dad’s shot had found its target; there was no time. Sam didn’t fight him this time, and Joel was able to scoop up the dog cleanly. Before he knew it, they were battling their way through the nearly chest-high weeds toward the ditch. Joel approached the drop-off but misjudged where the high ground ended. He managed to hang on to Sam as his legs buckled underneath him. They went down hard, with Sam landing on top of Joel, driving him down into a waist-deep ooze of greenish-black mud that smelled as bad as it looked and felt.

Joel let out a groan of frustration as he grappled with the thick, slimy muck in the ditch, fighting to maintain his balance and prevent him and Sam from sinking completely. With considerable effort, he managed to regain his footing and stabilize Sam’s weight, all the while struggling to push through the tar-like substance and reach the other side.

The unexpected presence of the mire within the ditch caught Joel off guard, especially in contrast to the arid surroundings. The moisture must have been preserved by the dense rows of cattails lining the edges of the trench, shielding the stagnant water from the scorching sun and preventing it from evaporating. As they inched forward, Joel grappled with the slippery, clinging muck, determined to keep both himself and Sam from succumbing to the unforgiving obstacle.

The worst part—even worse than the horrific smell—was that Joel could no longer see what was happening. He was well below the surrounding elevation. That was good for avoiding bullets but bad for providing his dad with covering fire. But the crash of weeds and vegetation being pushed out of the way indicated that his dad wasn’t waiting for Joel to cover him.

“Be careful. It drops…” Joel’s warning came too late.

“Oh, nice.” Ben found the bottom of the ditch the same way Joel and Sam had discovered it. Joel had already reached the other side and unloaded Sam onto the far bank.

“Take my hand.” Joel reached a hand toward his dad, who readily took the offer of assistance. Joel pulled as hard as he could, and combined with Ben’s efforts, the two of them hauled themselves out of the greasy mess and up onto solid ground.

Ben pulled the radio from his belt and used his hand to scrape a layer of black muck from the device. “We’re ready. Over.”

“On our way. Over,” Sandy’s voice crackled.

“Come on, stay low.” Ben didn’t bother getting off the ground and started belly-crawling up the other side of the ditch through the weeds. Sam clawed her way up the incline on her own, and Joel followed, trying to lose as much of the sticky ooze from his body as he could along the way.

“I think I got another one of them.” Ben glanced back at Joel.

“Good.” Joel moved to his left, taking advantage of the path his father had already plowed through the tall grass.

“When we get to the top, I want you and Sam to run for the highway,” Ben instructed.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Joel argued.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you,” Ben assured him.

No sooner had they crawled to the top of the incline than they heard the Blazer and the Jeep coming down the highway.

“We don’t see you. Over.” Sandy’s voice was frantic.

“Keep coming. We’re here.” Ben got to his knees and shook the viscous muck from his weapon. “Get going, and don’t stop until you’re in the Jeep.”

Ben stood up and shouldered his rifle, aiming toward the warehouse behind them. The grass was tall but not tall enough to cover them completely.

Crack.

Ben fired another shot while Joel gathered himself for the mad dash to safety. Both the Blazer and Jeep were visible now, and their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed by Sam, who immediately started hobbling toward the approaching vehicles.

“Get moving, now,” Ben shouted.

Joel didn’t want to leave his dad behind, but the order was clearly nonnegotiable. His first step almost brought him to his knees, though, as the greasy slime caked onto his hiking boots made the ditch bank hard to scale. Slowly but surely, Joel clambered the rest of the way up the incline, gaining speed and momentum that allowed him to catch up to Sam.

“Come on, girl. Keep moving. Almost there,” Joel huffed.

The highway and waiting trucks loomed closer, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. With each step, he willed himself to go faster, as the echoes of gunfire ringing in his ears served as a relentless reminder of the imminent threat at their heels.

12

Ben stood upright at the top of the ditch, searching for the remaining shooter over the tall grass. He saw movement behind a utility pedestal and took a shot at the pale green metal box he believed was hiding someone. He was pretty sure he’d killed one of the shooters—or at least wounded one of them to the point they were no longer interested in shooting back. Joel had taken a man out as well, leaving just one attacker to foil Ben’s escape. But there were still a good forty yards or more of mostly open ground between Ben and the shoulder of the highway, where the trucks were waiting. And it would only take one bullet from the remaining shooter to ruin his day.

Joel and Sam had reached the trucks already, and Ben was encouraged to see Joel had the old dog loaded up and ready to go with Sandy’s help. Ben was tempted to wave the trucks down the road a ways. He could move parallel to the highway behind the tall vegetation and reconnect with the others once they were all out of this guy’s range.

Zip!

Another round sailed overhead, and Ben dropped below the grass for a moment before returning fire, but his heart sank when he pulled the trigger and heard the dull click of the firing pin. He was out of ammunition and too far away from the shooter for the Glock to be anything more than a slight discouragement to his attacker’s advances. Ben glanced back at the trucks to try and gauge his chances if he made a run for it and was surprised to see Joel walking toward him, wearing his plated vest and carrying the burly M249.

“Get down,” Joel shouted.

Ben threw himself back into the ditch as the light machine gun started to spit rounds in his general direction. He hugged the ditch bank tightly, listening to the bark of the weapon and zing of the rounds passing overhead as Joel laid down an impressive barrage of covering fire. Not wanting Joel’s diversion to go to waste, Ben started crawling toward the vehicle, careful to stay low. The SAW rattled through its belt-fed rounds in short bursts. Joel had listened to his dad and was operating the weapon in a manner that allowed him to maintain control. And with Ben caught in the middle, that was a good thing.

At the top of the ditch bank, Ben rolled to the left in an attempt to get out of Joel’s line of fire so he could get back on his feet and run for the trucks. However, the sudden cessation of gunfire from Joel’s direction startled him. He looked up to see Joel standing motionless, the SAW hanging loosely at his side, its barrel emitting thin wisps of smoke.

“It’s over,” Joel declared, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and exhaustion.

Ben stood up and watched the blood-soaked body of a man tumble to the ground from behind the hole-ridden utility pedestal. The man’s rifle fell from his grip and bounced off the blacktop, splintering the stock. The clatter of the fallen rifle shattered the tense silence, a stark reminder of the violent confrontation that had just unfolded.

“Thanks. You okay?” Ben asked. It wasn’t the first time his son had killed someone, and it wouldn’t be the last, but Ben wasn’t sure what else to say in the moment, although the words he’d found seemed inadequate. He knew the weight of what Joel had just done—the enormity of the sacrifice he had made to protect them both. There was a very real possibility that Joel had saved his life.

Joel remained rooted to the spot, his demeanor betraying no discernible emotion. Ben approached his son, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he said softly, hoping to guide them both away from the harrowing scene and toward the promise of safety and respite. They had survived, but the echoes of the encounter would undoubtedly linger in their memories for a long time to come.

Ben took the time to recoup the ammunition links that had been expelled from the weapon. He couldn’t recover them all in the tall grass, but with Joel’s help, they managed to collect most of the pieces. When he and Joel finally reached the running trucks, the girls were waiting outside, weapons in hand and ready to join the fight. Brad and Emma remained inside their respective vehicles but looked no less interested or prepared than the others.

“How’s Sam?” Ben asked, hoping to avoid talking about how close he’d gotten to being trapped in the ditch with no ammunition.

“She’s limping on the same leg she hurt last time, but otherwise, she seems all right.” Allie reached into the back of the Blazer and gave Sam a couple of reassuring pats on the head.

“We better get moving. There could be more of them,” Ben suggested.

He wasn’t sure if there were any more bad guys left, and even if there were, Joel’s display with the M249 was probably enough to discourage further aggression. But there was no reason to stand around here in the blistering heat. Everyone agreed and broke away, loading into the trucks with minimal small talk about what had just happened. Ben returned the SAW to the Blazer’s cargo area and covered it with a towel while Emma encouraged Sam to drink some water. His decision to add the weapon to their already overloaded truck had turned out to be a good one. He wished all the choices he made were that clear.

He was glad they’d made it through another incident no worse for the wear, aside from Sam’s leg, but he was embarrassed he’d allowed himself to get into a position like that. This would teach him to go off half-cocked without a plan. Once he knew foul play was involved, he and Joel should have geared up before going after the captured dog, although if they had taken the time to grab extra magazines or anything else, they might have been too late. Out here on the road, there was never a shortage of instances that made Ben second-guess his actions, but he could at least take comfort in knowing those actions had brought Sam back to them today.

Ben took a minute to inspect the improved gas tank patch and was impressed at the lack of fuel dripping from the undercarriage. He kept his enthusiasm over the repair in check, though. The pessimist in him questioned how the melted rubber door flange would hold up. There was no telling when the Jeep would start leaking fuel again, but until that happened, they could finally rack up some miles.

Sandy smiled. “Really setting a record pace today.”

He knew her well enough by now to know that she was only trying to lighten the mood and that she was as disappointed as he was about their progress—or lack thereof.

Ben checked his watch. “I think we can still make the Kansas state line before dark.”

He was trying to stay positive about salvaging what was left of the day. However, he was also being honest. They’d wasted a couple of hours here recovering Sam, but they weren’t far from the border. If it wasn’t for their northern detour around Kansas City, they would have crossed the state line already. Of course, driving straight through the distressed city might have earned them far more trouble than a stolen dog.

With a sense of newfound urgency, Ben mapped out their next steps, considering their options and the potential risks that lay ahead. The delay here had cost them more than time. In spite of topping off all their containers this morning, they’d already consumed nearly half their supply of drinking water.

“Stay on 10?” Sandy pointed out a sign on the side of the road as she increased speed behind the Scrambler.

Ben nodded. “Yep. All the way into Excelsior Springs. Then look for 69.”

There were other water sources along the route they were using to avoid Kansas City, so there was no need for concern yet. And there was no way he could restrict their water consumption in this heat without risking dehydration. His goal for the day had been to reach deep inside Kansas. Now he’d be happy with making the border and finding a safe place to spend the night with unpolluted water.

Ben settled into the passenger seat, allowing the warm rush of air through the window to cool him as it dried the sweat from his skin. They couldn’t afford many more setbacks, not with their deteriorating physical condition. Despite their attempts to maintain a steady intake of food and water, the relentless interference from external threats had disrupted their routine, making it difficult to attend to their basic needs.

“You really think we’ll reach Kansas by dark?” Sandy asked.

“We’ll make it,” Ben reassured himself, his voice ringing with resolve. With a glance at Sandy, then Emma, he offered a faint but reassuring smile. They had come too far to let anything stand in their way now.

13

With each passing mile, Ben grappled with concerns that he couldn’t bring himself to voice. The discouraging possibility that they’d fail to reach home within the next couple of days weighed heavily on his mind, a burden he did his best to hide from the others. The longer they remained on the road, the more their chances of success seemed to dwindle, along with their diminishing physical and mental states. There were times when he convinced himself it didn’t matter how long it took them to reach Durango, but he had clarity after this afternoon’s skirmish. They couldn’t maintain this pace indefinitely.

At first glance, everyone appeared to be holding it together, exhibiting confidence and resilience. Yet beneath the surface, Ben discerned subtle shifts in their demeanor. They were all weary, worn down by the relentless journey that had taken a toll on their bodies and spirits. Ben couldn’t shake the fear that their ability to adapt and overcome was wearing thin, their capacity to recover from the ceaseless setbacks nearing its breaking point.

“Maybe we can find a place you guys can change?” Sandy guided the Blazer around the back end of a charred and paint-blistered station wagon that was protruding out past the shoulder into the right lane.

“Yeah, I suppose I could use a change,” Ben admitted.

“Stinky.” Emma held her nose and waved her hand in the air dramatically. “You guys have windows at least.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for someplace,” Ben promised half-heartedly.

Stopping was the last thing on his mind now that they were finally back on the highway, but his mud-encrusted clothing was far from comfortable and the foul odor made the interior of the Blazer smell like a swamp. The pungent aroma of rotting organic material was almost suffocating, making the usual wet dog smell inside the truck seem like a fragrant breeze.

He was sure Joel was anxious to shed his filthy clothes as well. Ben had become so acquainted with living in a state of constant disarray and filth that he was starting to grow accustomed to it. For someone like him, who normally went out of his way to strive for organization and neatness, life on the road was a challenge beyond the obvious complications.

The need to chew away at the miles separating them from home made pulling over for any reason, regardless of the significance, feel like a waste of time. Ben liked to try and stop when they could accomplish more than one thing, but this time, there was nothing else that could be accomplished unless they found someplace with water. That wasn’t a dire situation yet, although replenishing their water reserves was never a bad idea when the opportunity presented itself. After Sam’s ordeal, she consumed and spilled close to a full Nalgene. They didn’t have that much water to spare, but it felt inhumane to deny the exhausted dog some much-needed sustenance after what she’d been through.

Ben swallowed the last of his water and handed the Nalgene back to Emma so she could stash it with the other empty containers. If they were going to stop, they might as well make it worth their while by drinking their fill and doing what little they could to alleviate the effects of the sweltering heat.

Ben had been studying a spot on the atlas where the Missouri River intersected with their route once again. One of the biggest downsides to avoiding big cities that were anchored around major watersheds like the Missouri River was the necessity to cross twice the number of bridges. While this sounded like a minor inconvenience on the surface, the reality was far more serious. Outside the chance of encountering a bridge clogged with wrecks or, as they’d seen in some places, one that had been completely destroyed, the major waterways attracted other travelers, most of whom were less than friendly.

Ben likened the significant water crossings to a rare water source on the African plains.. Weak and strong, predator or prey, everyone needed water to survive, and as resources literally dried up, the apparent locations to get water were becoming increasingly crowded. He was genuinely shocked that last night’s campsite hadn’t led to an encounter with someone.

“Here, I think. We’re not too far now.” Ben held the atlas so Sandy and Emma could both see the location.

“How long will it take us to get there?” Emma asked.

Ben looked at the Blazer’s gauges, taking note of their current speed. “Another hour, maybe.”

“Well, at least that’s something to look forward to.” Sandy forced a smile.

“I can take over driving from there, too, if you need me to.” Ben had already made up his mind to resume his favorite position and was just planting the seed so she wouldn’t argue with him when the time came.

“That sounds good to me.” Sandy’s quick and agreeable response was unexpected.

Ben smiled back at her. He’d be more than happy to take the wheel. He found riding in the passenger seat boring, and at this stage of the trip, he refused to let himself sleep. Things could change in a hurry, and he considered staying alert and attentive to their surroundings as crucial to their survival and overall success.

“I wish I was old enough to drive,” Emma huffed, letting herself fall back into the rear seat, where she resumed helping her dad organize and reassemble the ammunition belt for the SAW.

“You’ll be old enough before you know it,” Sandy remarked.

Emma didn’t respond, but Sandy’s comment was food for thought. Given the current state of things, would it be such a bad idea to teach the younger kids how to drive? It was something they would need to learn eventually, and if things took a turn for the worse, sooner rather than later wouldn’t hurt. Jack had let them both drive his tractor around the farm and the Jeep in the off-road vehicle zone on the beach of the national seashore where he duck-hunted.

Perhaps the heat had more of a grip on Ben than he realized; it was starting to affect his judgment. Was he being irrational for considering it reasonable to teach a ten- and twelve-year-old how to drive? In contrast to some of the other skills the younger kids had been unfortunately compelled to acquire, introducing them to driving seemed relatively mild and innocuous. After all, Ben had permitted Brad to ride unsafely in the back of the Scrambler, on a seat mostly composed of ammunition cans, for almost the entire journey across the country. He’d given up hope of winning father-of-the-year long ago. If Casey ever found out about half the things the kids had been through under his watch, she’d kill him herself. Of course, that would never happen, but for the first time in his life, he wished she was still around to give him a hard time, for his kids’ sake.

“You okay?” Sandy asked.

Ben straightened up in the seat and leaned toward the window, taking full advantage of the incoming air. “Yeah, just thinking. That’s all.”

He picked up the radio—it was still coated with a thin film of mud from the ditch—and raised the Jeep, eager to occupy his time with a new topic. “Come in. How’s the patch holding up? Over.”

A few seconds passed before Brad popped his hand above his makeshift seat and gave a thumbs-up.

“So far, so good,” Allie answered. “I’ve been watching it, and we’re a little below three-quarters of a tank, but that’s about where it should be, I think. Over.”

“Great. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on the next pit stop. Another thirty miles or so and we’ll pick up 435, then the bridge a few miles after that. We’re planning a stop for water and a change of clothes. Over,” Ben stated.

“Sounds good. Over,” Allie’s voice crackled back.

With a few hours of daylight remaining, they were less than fifty miles away from the river and the Missouri-Kansas border. They’d deal with whatever they found at the river when the time came, but he couldn’t help feeling optimistic about their progress despite the late start and problematic fuel stop. Then again, maybe that was just the remaining high he felt from surviving another harrowing ordeal. After the river crossing into Kansas, they’d be a mere ten miles, give or take, from reconnecting with I-70.

The big interstate would carry them all the way into Colorado until they hit Burlington or Limon and veered south on 24 toward Colorado Springs. Ben wasn’t exactly sure of the path they’d take once they reached their home state. That largely depended on the availability of water. Kansas was vast, and the drive through the Great Plains state would be hot and dry if the current drought continued. But on the bright side, there were only two more pages of atlas before Durango was on the map.

14

Water was on Ben’s mind these days almost as much as fuel for the trucks. The farther west and south they went, the hotter and dryer it was becoming. This wasn’t unexpected, but it was no fun to experience from the passenger seat of a rolling steel box that could have passed for an oven. The heat-reflective paint had helped, though, and Ben couldn’t imagine driving through the hottest part of the day without it. Fortunately, the sun was on its way down, which felt like a bittersweet victory today.

Relief from the exhausting heat was close at hand, but so was the end of safe driving hours. The temptation to push their luck and press on into the night was always there and only seemed more attractive as they closed in on Durango. Ben resisted mentioning the idea to Sandy, but not because he thought she might shoot it down. He was worried she might be game to travel at night, and that would be all the encouragement he’d need to make what he knew was a bad decision.

If they pulled an all-nighter, stopping only for gas or as they needed to for other unavoidable necessities, they could be in the Rockies tomorrow. That was an invigorating thought. Ben could almost smell the cool churning water aerating over boulders as it tumbled through the mountains, the fresh scent of cedar and pine punctuating the air.

“There it is, the 435. I see the exit,” Sandy stated.

A few seconds later, the radio chirped to life, and Allie announced she and Joel had a visual on the exit as well.

“Roger that. We see it. Take the south exit if you can. Over,” Ben responded.

They could no longer afford to assume exit ramps and turns were clear and free of blockages, not with the roadside weeds and grass reaching heights that threatened to block signs and make every corner a blind one. It was hard to believe road maintenance had ceased only a few weeks ago. The overgrown conditions looked as though they were the result of several months’ worth of neglect. By the end of summer, even the interstates would be tough to navigate unless a person knew their way. They were lucky to have the atlas.

Ben eyed the curve of the ramp from the overpass as they crossed Route 435 below them. It looked clear, but signage and a badly burnt semitruck along the side of the road blocked some of their view. Sandy let the Blazer coast around the drastic curve of the exit ramp, keeping pace with the Jeep ahead of them. Allie hugged the outside shoulder, giving them the best vantage point around the weeds and curve of the road.

“All clear.” Sandy leaned back inside the Blazer and smiled.

Ben settled back into his seat and eyed the map again to try and estimate when they’d reach the river.

“We should see the bridge in about five miles. Over.” He leaned forward in his seat as if that would allow him to get a look at the river crossing sooner. Making plans that utilized a potential choke point like a bridge always came with a healthy dose of anxiety. They’d seen their share of bridges rendered impassable, and there was no guarantee this one would be any different.

They all rode in silence until the four-lane interstate began to rise in elevation above the surrounding farm fields.

“Getting close. I can smell the water.” Sandy sniffed at the air, following Sam and Bajer’s lead.

The two dogs were awake now, and Sam seemed to have already forgotten about her near miss with death. Ben doubted very much that the dog had forgotten any of it; rather, she’d chosen not to think about it, like the rest of them.

“Good girl, Sammy.” Emma scratched the dog under her chin in an attempt to keep her from spilling down into her seat from the back.

“We’ll stop on the other side for water. Over.” Ben spoke over the radio but looked at Emma. “The dogs can get out then.” He added for his daughter’s sake.

Emma found herself grappling with both dogs, their anticipation of an upcoming stop boiling over. Ben originally considered getting water on the Missouri side of the river but opted to cross the bridge first. If an alternate route over the river was necessary, he’d rather know sooner than later. They could find a way down to the water from the other side. To be truthful, Ben simply wanted to get across the state line. While it was merely a physical distance of another mile or two, it symbolized much more than that to him.

“Looks clear. I think we’re good. Over,” Joel announced over the radio.

Sandy let the Blazer drift to the left for a better view of the road ahead. There was no shortage of charred wrecks littering the bridge, but the freeway had expanded to three lanes several miles back, affording them plenty of room to navigate around the obstacles.

Ben encouraged Sandy to hug the right-hand shoulder when they reached mid-span so he could get a good look at the river flowing underneath them. The brown swirling water spun into small whirlpools as it ran southeast toward St. Louis and the Mississippi, then on to the Gulf of Mexico. The water looked clean enough, at least by current standards.

Allie copied their movements in the Scrambler and slowed down by the concrete guardrail along the right edge of the bridge.

Joel stood up so that his top half was visible over the Jeep’s roll bar and looked back at the Blazer. “More muddy water.” His tone and expression showed his disappointment.

Ben knew what his son was hoping to find, but they were still too far from the Rockies to encounter crystal-clear mountain streams and hungry, opportunistic trout. The extent of Joel’s passion for fishing never failed to impress Ben. It made sense, considering Joel’s upbringing. In his early years, Joel spent more time dipping his toes into the chilly waters of the Animas River from Ben’s Kelty child carrier backpack than he did anywhere else.

Even amidst the unraveling chaos of the world, Ben was happy to see that getting a fly in the water remained a top priority for Joel. His son found solace in the act of fishing, as did Ben, a respite from the mundane routines of everyday life. And especially now, in a world gripped by disorder and turmoil, this simple activity took on even greater significance. Even though they were on a mission to reach Durango, Ben tried to encourage the boys to wet a line when possible. Watching them fish did him as much good as fishing himself.

The river was one of Ben’s favorite places to take the kids when he had them all together. There were so many good memories and family moments created on their days hiking and fishing the many rivers and streams that dotted the San Juan Mountains. Even Emma, whom Ben sometimes had a hard time connecting with, seemed to open up on their backcountry adventures. She had her own unique way of enjoying nature. While she might not be as enthusiastic about the fishing part, she found joy in the little things like picking wildflowers, skipping stones across the water, and observing the diverse array of birds and wildlife that graced the Rockies, then doing her best to re-create them in her sketchbook.

Someday, they would do those things again as a family. Ben found himself lost in the captivating display of sunlight on the tea-colored water below, so much so that he was oblivious to the Scrambler coming to a full stop along the shoulder until Sandy brought the Blazer to an abrupt halt behind the kids. Ben snapped back to the present moment, the peaceful contemplation of nature and the promise of what the future might hold momentarily disrupted by the tangible presence of the parked vehicle.

“What’s going on?” Ben’s first thought was that there had been a catastrophic failure of the fuel tank patch, but the dry pavement under the Jeep indicated otherwise.

“I don’t know.” Sandy strained to see over the guardrail and get a glimpse of whatever had the kids’ attention.

Joel, Allie, and Brad were all standing up inside the Scrambler and staring down at the far bank of the river.

“We can’t get water here.” Joel pointed at the sprawling encampment of tents, vehicles, and makeshift shelters crafted from what looked like trash and scavenged building materials. Right away, Ben spotted at least half a dozen people milling about between the tents and ramshackle huts strung out along the riverbank.

“Move the trucks to the center of the bridge.” Ben popped his door open and spilled out of the Blazer with his M24. He closed the door softly and shuffled his way over to the concrete guardrail. Joel followed his dad’s lead and did the same as the Jeep pulled away behind Sandy in the Blazer until both trucks were in the middle lane of the bridge and out of sight from below. Ben used his scope to assess the threat level and determine whether or not Joel was right about not being able to get water here. Unfortunately, it didn’t take Ben long to come to the same conclusion.

15

Ben stayed on the scope as Joel slid in next to him behind the barrier. “It looks like the homeless camp off Roosa Avenue by the river back home, only a lot bigger,” Joel said quietly.

“Yeah, except some of these guys are armed,” Ben reported.

Over the last couple of years, as home prices skyrocketed and affordable living disappeared, Durango experienced an increase in its homeless population, the majority of whom, it seemed, had for some reason taken up semipermanent residence along the Animas River in the Roosa Avenue area. The cops did their best to confiscate tents and disrupt the place, but no matter what, the encampment reappeared a couple of days later. Ben wondered if the camp was still there or if it had perhaps grown to the size of this one.

“There’s got to be a dozen people down there with weapons.” Joel confirmed what Ben had seen for himself.

There were several individuals with long guns, a few with sidearms, and several with large knives. Others probably had weapons he couldn’t see. A few seconds later, Sandy, Allie, Emma, and Brad joined them and huddled down behind the concrete guardrail at the bridge’s edge. Ben hadn’t meant for everyone to gather here, but it was too late to do anything about it now; any further activity might attract attention. So far, they hadn’t been noticed by anyone down by the water, or it at least appeared that way. And that was how Ben aimed to keep it.

“So what’s the plan? They don’t look too friendly. Not exactly the types to invite us down so we can fill our water containers,” Sandy remarked.

“Not quite. We’re going to have to keep moving. There’s other places to get water.” Ben hated that his plans had to be altered because a group of people had claimed this part of the river as theirs. He thought about going back across to the other side and trying to access the river from the east bank, but the slow-moving tributary was only a couple hundred yards wide here, an easy shot for one of those men with a deer rifle, if they were any good.

Another deterring factor would be the necessity to backtrack along the interstate until the guardrail ended and they could find a way off the highway and back down to the water. They were no strangers to forging their own path when required to do so, but the prospect of wasting the time it would take to do all that only to be shot at convinced Ben to look elsewhere.

“What’s left in the five-gallon container?” He glanced over at the cargo carrier hanging off the back of the Blazer but couldn’t see the waterline in the large container well enough to judge the level.

Allie scampered over to the truck, only fully standing upright once she was far enough away from the edge to remain hidden. She unscrewed the top and peered down into the big blue water jug. “A little more than half.”

Ben thought for a second, then made his guess out loud. “That’s about nine or ten Nalgene bottle refills.”

“That won’t last long, though. We’ve been going through them pretty fast,” Emma stated.

“The Kansas River would be our next closest chance for water. That’s about an hour’s drive from where we get back onto I-70, and that’s about ten miles from here,” Ben explained.

Sandy glanced at the sinking sun. “Temperature should be dropping soon. We can make it.”

Ben wanted to agree, but he didn’t like having to settle for less-than-ideal traveling conditions, although that was a better option than getting into a fight with an armed encampment of people who wanted their supplies. He was also worried about the state of the Kansas River. It was a smaller watershed and a lot bonier than the big Missouri River, and in these conditions, Ben had concerns about the water quality. He also didn’t like last resorts, and that was exactly what the Kansas River would be to them. If they couldn’t get water at the next place for some reason, they’d be in real trouble.

“You’re not actually considering getting water here, are you?” Sandy’s eyes widened.

“No… no. It’s too risky.” He grappled with the decision to continue without water. The right choice seemed clear, but the scorching afternoon sun burning the back of his neck and the ever-present threat of dehydration clouded his judgment. Even if they made the effort to reach the water on the opposite bank, they’d be inviting a fight. Ben struggled to determine which option he despised more—facing potential gunfire or forging ahead into what would likely be the hottest, driest terrain they had encountered yet, with insufficient water supplies. But that didn’t matter, either, because regardless of how he felt, they needed to move on from here before it was too late. And the situation wasn’t improving while they sat idle on top of this bridge in life-sucking heat.

Ben was about to suggest that they all slowly make their way back to the trucks and sneak out of here before being noticed, but the look on Allie’s face told him that ship had sailed.

“I think they see us.” Her dire tone got everyone’s attention.

Ben got back on his rifle and scoped out the camp. Three men were looking and pointing at the bridge while shouting to the others. He watched as a flurry of activity kicked into gear and the encampment came to life.

Ben clenched his jaw, angry that he and his group had been discovered—but more angry that this situation could have been avoided. They’d stayed too long, been too indecisive. And the setting sun’s reflection off their optics as they spied on the camp below had pinpointed their position on the bridge. It was a rookie mistake, but a mistake with heavy consequences just the same.

“Let’s go. Come on.” Ben stood up and pushed everyone toward the vehicles ahead of him. There was no need to crouch behind the concrete divider any longer.

“What are we doing? Are they coming after us?” Brad lingered at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the encampment, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“We’re leaving right now.” Ben scooped up his youngest and carried him to the Scrambler, heaving him up and over the pile of gear in the back. Before Brad had a chance to settle into his makeshift seat, Ben lifted Emma into the Scrambler as well.

“There isn’t enough room for both of us,” Emma protested.

“It’s only temporary. Make do for now and stay down.” Ben forced a slight smile in an effort to put his youngest two at ease, although he doubted his attempt at hiding his concern for the situation was very successful.

“Get going. We’ll be right behind you,” he added as he made eye contact with Allie, who hurried to resume her position behind the wheel. Joel was already in the passenger seat, laying out spare magazines for his AR-15.

“But, Dad, we can—” Joel was interrupted by the bark of several engines firing up under the bridge. Ben recognized the thunderous bluster of bikes, and for a brief moment, he thought about the devastation and destruction caused by the motorcycle gang that had terrorized Cloverdale.

Joel started to talk again, but Ben cut him off. “But nothing. Now get going. And don’t wait for us if we fall behind. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Joel muttered through a clenched jaw.

“Allie?” Ben pressed her for an answer to make sure she was on board with his instructions.

“Got it,” she agreed reluctantly, then sank behind the high-back bucket seat and put the Jeep in gear. Ben watched as the Scrambler covered the last half of the bridge and picked up speed. Brad and Emma peered over the gear as Allie drove away.

“Who’s driving?” Sandy asked, her voice quivering, probably because she knew the answer to that question.

“I need you to drive. Can you handle it?” Ben stopped what he was doing and looked at Sandy.

He needed to know if she was up for it. They didn’t really have a choice, but their best chance to lose these guys, or at least discourage the bikers from chasing after them, would be with Sandy behind the wheel and him behind a weapon.

“Yeah, I can do it,” Sandy promised in a sturdier tone, followed by a hard swallow.

Ben nodded back and continued preparing for the inevitable encounter with the residents of the riverside camp who were headed their way. He wasn’t sure what the campers wanted, but he knew they weren’t sending out a welcome party. This was supposed to be a quick pitstop for water, and now they were in another fight for their lives. But this wasn’t bad luck or the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was life in a post-apocalyptic world. This was the new normal. And it was time to stop pretending like it wasn’t. It was another day in which survival wasn’t guaranteed and being vigilant wasn’t enough to keep them out of trouble.

Ben’s mind raced to come up with a way out of this while a chilling realization crept over him like a dark cloud, one that he’d been in denial about. They were going to have to fight tooth and nail for every inch of ground on their quest to reach Durango.

16

Sandy already had the Blazer in gear as Ben got situated in the back of the truck. He was tired this morning after the incident with Sam. Reloading and reconnecting the links of the ammunition belt that went inside the M249’s drum mag was the last thing he felt like doing, but it was time well spent. He didn’t expect to be putting the SAW back to work so soon, yet here he was, proving once again that they could never be too prepared.

His reload job was a little light on account of the shortened ammunition belt he had to work with. Thanks to Joel’s wild shooting, they weren’t able to recover all the links back at the warehouse, and some were bent beyond repair thanks to being stepped on. Of course, Ben was likely still alive because of his son’s heroics, so lost or damaged gear was more than acceptable in lieu of the alternative.

Ammunition belt links weren’t something Ben was accustomed to saving, but replacing them would be, for all intents and purposes, impossible. He had exactly 167 rounds in the reloaded drum and a bag of loaded AR-15 magazines within reach. Thanks to the M249’s versatility, he could utilize those as well if need be.

With Sam and Bajer relocated to the bench seat, Ben braced himself using his feet like he had so many times before, more times than he cared to admit or should have been necessary. At least shooting from the inside of the truck would ensure they remained in possession of the majority of the ammunition links, one small problem he could disregard for a change.

He kept an eye on the bridge behind them, especially the wood line along the westbound lanes, trying to determine where the campers would emerge onto the highway. Solid steel guardrail continued after the concrete bridge rail ended, making the highway immediately inaccessible as far as Ben could tell. But the barricade would end eventually.

“Keep your eyes peeled. They’re bound to pop up somewhere,” Ben warned.

“I don’t see a place for them to get on the highway yet,” Sandy shouted back.

“They’ve got an access point somewhere.”

Just as Ben finished, Sandy shouted, “There!”

She swerved to the left, away from the shoulder. Ben turned in time to see a heavily modified, older-model Jeep midflight as it burst from the overgrown vegetation along the side of the highway. The Jeep was outfitted for rock crawling, with cutout fenders to allow room for oversized tires and a beefed-up suspension. The sudden transition from the rough shoulder to the blacktop caused the older CJ to lose touch with the ground momentarily, bouncing several times as it landed and continued the pursuit. The heavy-duty suspension soaked up the impact, permitting the Jeep to continue the chase almost uninterrupted.

The Blazer roared as Sandy hammered the throttle in an attempt to outrun their pursuers, but the Jeep’s modifications hadn’t been limited to its appearance. The older-model CJ squatted, belched a cloud of dark smoke, and began gaining ground on them at what seemed like an impossible rate of speed. The Jeep must have had quite the powerhouse under the hood, and it didn’t take Ben long to realize he and Sandy wouldn’t be able to outrun the vehicle.

“Ben, there’s more of them,” Sandy shouted and swerved again, this time reacting to a string of motorcycles merging onto the highway from a side road. The bikes had been customized like the Jeep, only they weren’t built for off-roading. An assortment of steel plates and scrap metal adorned the bikes in various configurations. This wasn’t the first time Ben had seen this type of thing, and these motorcycles were evidence it wouldn’t be the last, either.

More of the campers joining the chase was the last thing Ben needed, but it wasn’t at all unexpected, and he was glad the kids had a head start. Due to their current high rate of speed, they left the bikers behind quickly for the time being, and Ben observed some of the drawn weapons getting holstered as the gang tried to catch up and join the fray.

The distance between them and their pursuers gave Ben and Sandy a small buffer, but it wouldn’t last long. The Jeep and the bikers would close the gap soon, and Ben knew it was time for a different course of action. In addition to everything else working against them, maintaining this rate of speed on a road littered with occasional wrecks was asking for trouble. If the campers didn’t do them in, a collision with something sitting on the road would.

“Slow down.” Ben eyed the Jeep through the SAW’s sights as it drew nearer.

“What?” Sandy kept her foot on the gas pedal in spite of Ben’s instructions.

“Slow down. We can’t outrun them.” Ben knew they had no chance of losing the bikes, but it was obvious the Jeep was going to be a problem, too.

“Hang on.” Sandy let off the throttle, but only because she was trying to avoid a turned-over SUV that whizzed by on their left.

Ben braced himself against the Blazer’s sudden movement and got back behind his weapon as soon as he could manage it. The Jeep narrowly avoided the rolled Suburban blocking half the highway while the bikes split and reformed like a school of startled fish.

“Sandy, we have to slow down and deal with these guys here. We can’t outrun them.” Ben took the time to explain his reason for slowing down, and eventually, she backed off the throttle. “Just keep us on the road and avoid the wrecks. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He focused on the Jeep leading their pursuers, pondering how many times this gang, nestled beneath the bridge, had terrorized unsuspecting travelers passing overhead. It was another instance of the morally bankrupt exploiting a dire situation—a narrative that seemed to echo across the nation.

Rather than fear or anger, though, Ben was engulfed by a profound sense of disappointment. These armed opportunists stood as a grim testament to the depths humanity had plummeted. They were symptomatic of a society in decay, where the underbelly seemed to triumph, lurking in the shadows and preying on the vulnerable.

Discouragement fell over Ben like a heavy shroud, threatening to smother him. It wasn’t solely about this particular confrontation; it was the sobering realization of society’s descent into darkness. The bandits beneath the bridge epitomized a world unraveling, where desperation and moral compromise were the currency of value.

In the face of this bleak reality, Ben found himself uncharacteristically devoid of fear or rage. It was a weariness born of witnessing this cycle repeat itself endlessly. The script remained unchanged; only the players varied. And for a fleeting moment, Ben felt sorry for them.

The gang’s pursuit, a symptom of their own depravity, served as a blatant reminder of the fragility of societal norms. In a world where survival often trumped ethics, the line between right and wrong blurred into shades of gray.

Once the modified CJ-7 had closed the distance to within a couple hundred yards, Ben noticed a man stand up precariously behind the Jeep’s roll bar. The passenger produced a long, sleek black rifle with an oversized, high-powered scope, which he attempted to aim at the Blazer among the Jeep’s course corrections as it dodged hazards on the road.

Ben was holding out until the last second before firing on their pursuers. The closer they were, the better the chance he’d do some real damage, although the appearance of the rifle and high-powered scope was a reason to reconsider his strategy. But the CJ-7 was armored with a collection of rusty steel plates that looked like they were welded on as an afterthought. Ben wasn’t sure how thick the Jeep’s armor was and questioned whether he’d be able to punch through the protective panels at this range with 5.56 rounds. The reinforced piece of plating attached behind the CJ’s push bar did an excellent job of protecting the radiator and engine bay, so disabling the vehicle permanently was probably out of the question. But that might not be necessary.

He just needed to end the chase, not teach lessons or find retribution. No unforgivable wrongs had been committed yet by these bridge bandits, at least not to Ben and his crew. Not unless being denied access to the water they so desperately needed could be considered such an offense. And maybe if the conditions were different, he would have felt otherwise. Had he been traversing the country alone, many of these encounters would have gone down much differently. Then again, he might also be dead by now. But Ben had no interest in proving a point this afternoon or playing the hero by saving future travelers from these low-life bottom dwellers who most appropriately lived in the shadows of a bridge.

They were officially in Kansas now, and that was a game-changer as far as Ben was concerned, more so than he thought it would be when it came to his outlook on their situation. The scant few miles that had put them into a whole new state were meager on their own, but it felt like they’d crossed over into a whole new world of possibilities, one where the future looked brighter than it had in a long time.

He’d convinced himself before that they were actually going to make it home in one piece because he had to, but for the first time, he truly believed it was going to happen. He’d needed to persuade himself that their chances were good earlier in the trip in order to keep going, but he could give the notion credibility now because it was genuinely happening.

Uncertain whether it was the shifting circumstances or an evolution within himself, Ben found solace in the singular focus consuming his thoughts at this moment: bringing his children, Sandy, and her daughter back home. His only desired outcome to this encounter was to get on with their lives, locate water, and go home. And that was precisely what he intended to make happen.

17

“Goin’ hot!” Ben shouted the warning for Sandy’s benefit in the hope that she’d avoid being startled and wouldn’t steer the Blazer erratically when he opened fire on the CJ.

It was going to be challenging enough to get rounds on the target with the swerving already necessary to avoid obstacles on the road. The narrow slit in the plated windshield of the Jeep, meant to allow the driver a clear view of the road, would be nearly impossible to hit accurately with this weapon under these conditions. Ben questioned his decision to use the light machine gun for a split second, thinking he’d be better off with his scoped rifle, but there were too many of the gang to contend with. And if he waited any longer, the man positioned over the roll bar would surely take a shot any second now once he got lined up.

Pap pap pap pap… pap pap pap… pap pap pap pap pap.

Ben laid into the modified CJ-7 with a hail of rounds from the SAW’s ammunition belt, causing a string of sparks to flash off the chasing vehicle’s steel-plated windscreen. Judging by how the vehicle capriciously lurched to the left, then corrected course after the barrage of gunfire, he surmised that at least a few of the rounds had made it into the Jeep’s cabin.

The burst hadn’t inflicted the damage he’d hoped for, but it certainly had his pursuers’ attention, and the Jeep fell off several yards to regroup. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Had the gang realized that they weren’t dealing with their everyday, run-of-the-mill traveler and decided to end the chase?

Not a chance. Another puff of smoke from the Jeep and the back end squatted, launching the CJ forward at an even higher rate of speed than before, which made it perfectly clear that the gang was far from done harassing them. At least the bikers seemed content to hang back for the time being and let their friends in the CJ-7 do the heavy lifting for now. And that was more than okay with Ben because he had his hands full.

The driver of the Jeep knew what he was doing and made sure to stay directly behind the Blazer, limiting exposure of the CJ’s less armored sides. The oversized off-road tires were shrouded by extended fender flares that looked to be made from the same material that covered the windshield and front grill. It was impossible to get a clear shot at this angle, and any rounds spent trying to take out the tires would be wasted, but Ben noticed a flaw in the Jeep’s plan to remain untouchable.

About to open fire again, Ben saw the man with the scoped rifle react to the weapon’s kick. A fraction of a second later, a metallic clank rang out like a bell, and he knew they’d been hit. Fortunately, the steel of the old Chevy’s tailgate took the brunt of the shot, and as far as he could tell, the bullet hadn’t caused any real damage.

“What was that?” Sandy shouted over the Blazer’s engine and thunderous exhaust note.

“Don’t worry about it. Just keep driving,” Ben replied, then answered the shooter.

Pap pap pap… pap pap pap… pap pap pap pap pap.

But the man saw it coming and dropped below the roll bar, taking cover behind the armored windscreen as another burst from the light machine gun peppered the CJ with sparks once again. This time, Ben was prepared to capitalize on the driver’s reaction. And just as he predicted, the CJ-7 jerked to the right, crossing into the other lane and opening up its left flank for a moment. Ben seized the small window of opportunity and tore into the green Jeep with everything he had. Throwing his full weight behind the SAW in an attempt to keep the weapon from walking off target, he rattled through several dozen rounds without pause, maxing out the cyclical rate of the light machine gun.

The Jeep careened back to center, the top-heavy vehicle heaving against the driver’s will as it struggled to negotiate the maneuver with the added weight of the welded-on armor. But not before Ben got a piece of the front wheel, causing the tire to implode and shred itself to pieces on the rim. Chunks of black rubber flew in every direction. The Jeep continued onward for a few seconds, impossibly unaffected by the damage, until it finally succumbed to the catastrophic loss of its left front tire. Momentum finally gave way to gravity, triggering a chain of events that drove the Jeep’s nose into the pavement. The exaggerated push bar dug into the blacktop, sending curls of asphalt to the side like freshly plowed earth.

Time stopped, or so it seemed as Ben watched the scene unfold. The front of the CJ crumpled in on itself while the back end continued to overtake the vehicle, catapulting up and over the front end, launching the man with the scoped rifle out of the back seat and into the air. The entire Jeep went airborne a split second later, giving Ben a clear view of the open top and interior of the vehicle.

Besides the gunman and the driver, there was a third man in the passenger seat. His body appeared bloody and lifeless, maybe from Ben’s first attempt with the SAW. If the passenger was already dead, he was the lucky one. The first man who’d been shooting at them from the roll bar landed hard, skidding across the pavement until his body stopped abruptly, slamming into the guardrail, where his limbs wrapped around a metal stanchion with incredible force.

The driver clung to the Jeep, held in place by his seat belt, but the situation offered no reprieve. Trapped in what must have felt like a never-ending hell of twisting metal and bone-jarring G-forces, the driver found himself in a blender of flying parts and escaping liquids as the Jeep reduced itself to an assortment of scrap scattered across the highway.

For a moment, Sandy neglected her role as navigator, fully pivoting in her seat to witness the spectacle unfolding behind them. The violent scene gradually settled, with all the scattered parts and pieces finding their final resting places. The driver’s lifeless form hung suspended over the contorted chassis, which now bore little resemblance to a Jeep, just as the contorted body seemed disconnected from any semblance of humanity.

There was no time to celebrate the Jeep’s demise, however. There were still half a dozen bikes and their armed riders to deal with. Ben figured he had about a good hundred rounds left in the M249’s box magazine, and while that seemed like a lot, divided among six moving targets, it would spend fast.

“Don’t stop. Keep going.” Ben urged Sandy to resume giving the road ahead and their escape her full attention. She’d slowed the Blazer considerably to gawk at the deadly spectacle. “It’s not over yet.”

Sandy’s eyes grew wide with terror as if she’d forgotten for a moment that they were on the wrong end of a high-speed pursuit. The Chevy lurched forward as she got back on the throttle and pulled away from the wrecked Jeep. The drivers of the bikes hesitated momentarily, drifting between lanes as if they were undecided about the next course of action. Maybe their leader was in the Jeep, although that didn’t necessarily mean the chase was over or the rest of the gang would give up. A decapitated snake could still bite.

“Dad, come in. The road’s blocked. We can’t get through this way. We’re coming back your way. Over.”

Ben heard his son’s frantic voice over the radio, the message sending a chill up his spine. If Joel was making the decision to turn around when he knew what was waiting for him back in this direction, then the road must truly be impassable.

Ahead, a secondary bridge crossed the remaining marshlands skirting the river. It must have been blocked by a wreck, or maybe a roadblock had been put in place by the pursuing deviants. It wouldn’t be the first time Ben had seen this tactic employed. He hesitated, his instincts urging him to radio his son and advise him against retracing his steps. However, he held back.

“Copy that. Over,” Ben finally answered.

What alternatives did they really have? Confronting the bikers head-on out here on the open road seemed like a more survivable option than being cornered with no way out.

“What do we do?” Sandy let off the gas, allowing the Blazer to coast while she waited for instructions.

“Stop the truck, but leave me facing the bikes.” Ben wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of this predicament, but they couldn’t afford to give up any more ground if the road ahead was impassable.

They’d have to stand their ground and fight, something he wished he’d realized earlier when they had the upper hand from high above the camp on the bridge. The concrete guardrail would have made for great cover and a much safer place from which to confront the encampment of killers. He could have picked off several with his scoped rifle. But there was no sense in dwelling on that regret now.

Ben turned to look ahead as Sandy brought the Blazer to a stop. He spotted the Jeep in the distance through undulating waves of heat escaping off the blacktop. Looking to the highway’s shoulder, Ben quickly determined there was no cover for them there, just a few feet of waist-high weeds ending against a rusty section of guardrail.

To his right, Ben scanned the median for options but found nothing, just more overgrown vegetation with a bald strip running through the middle, indicating the presence of another barrier of some sort that separated one side of the highway from the other. He’d wanted to avoid being pinned against a wall, but this wasn’t looking much better as the bikers continued their malevolent but tentative advance. Ben hated to concede what he’d so diligently tried to avoid, but they were trapped.

18

“Ben?” Sandy stared at him, her eyes bulging with fear.

“I’m thinking.” Ben’s answer was curt, but this was no time to panic, and her trepidation about the approaching bikers wasn’t helping him think.

“Come in. I want you guys to pull in behind that overturned truck and get ready to fight. Over.” Ben noticed the overturned box truck earlier when he saw the Jeep returning. It wasn’t his first choice at the time, but in consideration of the cover available to them, it was the only viable option.

“Head for the truck and park behind it. It’s our best chance.” Ben turned, locking eyes with a distraught Sandy. “We’ll be all right. Just get us to the truck.”

Sandy turned in her seat to face the road ahead and stomped on the throttle, spinning the rear wheels and heading for the remnants of the box truck. The totaled delivery vehicle had been reduced to nothing more than a skeleton of metal framework, the chassis brought to a crumpled stop against the guardrail. The fire-consumed remnants of a compact sedan sat wedged between the two, and it was most likely the cause of the initial accident.

The truck’s body had all but disintegrated in the fire; only the steel frame of the cargo box remained, sticking up like ribs on a corpse. But the cab was somewhat intact, and so was the drivetrain, providing some protection for the Blazer and Jeep down low along the ground. It wasn’t much in the way of cover, but they’d have to make the best of it. At the very least, he hoped it would prevent the Blazer or the Jeep from taking a bullet to the tires while giving him and the others a place to fight from.

It didn’t take long for Sandy to reach the scorched remains of the box truck, and as she pulled around to the far side, Ben kept an eye on the bikers. A few seconds later, Allie swung the Scrambler in behind them, screeching to a halt.

“Everybody out. Emma, take the dogs into the tall grass and stay low.” Ben was about to remind his daughter to take her weapon, but he saw that was unnecessary.

“Where do you want us?” Joel jumped from the passenger seat, wielding his AR-15, with the Kel-Tec 12-gauge strapped to his back. Allie was at his side and ready as well, with her AR and a sidearm on her hip.

“How bad is the road?” Ben wanted to make sure they had no other choice but to stay and fight before fully committing.

“It’s blocked pretty good. They definitely did it on purpose, but I think we can get through with a little work,” Joel stated.

Ben ignored Joel for the time being and confronted Brad, who’d leaped from the back of the Jeep with Gunner, toting his own AR-15 as if he did this sort of thing all the time. The image of his youngest, ready to fight for his life, was becoming all too familiar, and Ben hated that. At the same time, as they found themselves in situations like this day in and day out, the image stung less than he expected.

“Brad, I want you to help your sister with the dogs. Sam can’t get out of the Blazer on her own with that leg. And put your vests on. They’re in the back seat under the empty Nalgenes.” Ben rattled off the short list of orders in a tone that left no room for question, then turned to address Joel without giving Brad a chance to argue.

Brad would surely be inclined to protest being assigned dog-sitting duty with his sister, but Ben didn’t care about that right now. Safety trumped his son’s ambitions to help with the fight. It was hard enough to knowingly put Joel and Allie in harm’s way. And he wouldn’t have considered involving them if it wasn’t necessary.

Brad stayed silent for the most part, huffing in displeasure as he helped his sister gather the dogs and armor-plated vests from the Blazer.

Ben turned his attention to Joel and Allie now that he was satisfied Brad, Emma, and the dogs would be reasonably safe for the time being.

“Grab a can of ammo and take a position behind the rear axle, both of you.” Ben pointed to the double set of melted rims that had fused themselves to the road’s surface. There was plenty of room for both Joel and Allie to find adequate cover there. It was the least he could do after getting them involved in yet another firefight that could have been avoided. They should have jumped back in the trucks and gotten out of here the second they spotted the encampment, but they didn’t, and it was time to embrace the suck.

Sandy didn’t need direction, and as Ben turned to check on Brad and Emma’s progress, he saw her hunkering down with her rifle behind the rear wheel of the compact car, half hidden in the tall grass. Brad looked back at his dad, disappointed but obediently doing what was asked of him. Ben nodded his approval as Brad finished helping his sister get her vest on before the two of them disappeared into the brush.

Ben had an ulterior motive in sending Brad with his sister and the dogs, beyond attempting to keep them safe. God forbid, but if things went south and something happened to them, Brad and Emma would have to fend for themselves. Emma was capable—she’d had the chance to prove that, unfortunately—but it gave Ben some small sense of comfort to know they’d at least have the dogs and each other to rely on if the bikers were successful.

He shook the morbid thought from the forefront of his mind as he hoisted the cumbersome M249 from the back of the Blazer, lugging it over the tailgate and cargo rack. Ben carried the weapon with him and dragged it under the husk of a truck, closer to the cab and away from Joel and Allie so as not to draw any additional fire in their direction. He set the light machine gun up just behind the cab’s rear wheel, along with the bag of spare magazines for when the drum ran out. He then returned to the Blazer to fetch his .338-chambered Remington Model 700 while keeping one eye on the idling group of bikes less than a quarter mile away.

The gang maintained a cautious distance, a few members returning to circle the wreckage of the CJ-7 and their fallen friends. Ben, however, harbored no illusions about a possible retreat from the bikers. Despite his display with the SAW, he held no hope that the gang would reconsider their intentions. It seemed more probable that they were actively devising a new strategy—one that surely involved eliminating them and seizing their supplies.

Ben got into position at the truck cab’s rear wheel and hunkered down behind the M24’s scope.

“Don’t shoot yet. Wait until they get closer,” Ben called out loud enough for everyone to hear.

The armored bikes remained a substantial distance away, several hundred yards from the charred remains of the box truck. Some of the AR platforms the others were using lacked the optics necessary to effectively engage targets at that range, especially for less experienced shooters. Even Ben was reluctant to take a shot due to the bikes’ armor plating. To make matters worse, the heat rising off the blacktop distorted his targets. Still, Ben couldn’t ignore the impressive shooting he had witnessed from Joel and Allie throughout their journey. They had capability beyond the limitations of their equipment or his confidence.

However, he was mindful of conserving ammunition when practical. And with four of them shooting, Ben anticipated running through a significant number of the 5.56 rounds in the defense of their position once the bikers made their move, and he wanted to ensure they were adequately prepared for that critical moment.

“Do you think they’ve changed their mind?” Sandy’s tone was hopeful.

“Don’t think so. They don’t strike me as the type to give up,” Ben answered.

“Is that what’s left of the Jeep I see out there?” Joel peered through his scope.

“Yeah, that’s what’s left of the Jeep,” Ben replied.

“Your dad shot the front tire out. They did the rest by themselves,” Sandy explained.

“Well, I hope they do whatever they’re going to do soon. I feel like I’m being baked alive,” Allie noted.

Ben caught a bead of sweat from his forehead before it reached his eye. As much as they tried to avoid firefights, Allie made a valid point. The sun was no longer directly overhead, but the road surface had absorbed enough thermal energy to cook an egg. He had to agree with her sentiment and found himself also wishing this gang of highway bandits would hurry up and get on with it.

“How much water do you guys have left in the Jeep?” Ben asked.

“Not much,” Allie stated.

“About two and a half Nalgenes,” Joel added.

“We’re going to have to find a place after this is over.” Ben glanced at the horizon. “And at this rate, we might as well start looking for a place to camp.” It was empowering and a big confidence boost for the others, planning ahead while staring a life-and-death situation in the face.

They had several hours of good daylight left, and although that should have been plenty of time to rack up a significant number of miles, Ben knew how it would work out. The need to stop for water and, soon after that, fuel would eat away at the time they had left before darkness and hazardous driving conditions hindered their progress. And who knew what problems they’d encounter during either of those?

The uncertainties surrounding them during these stops loomed large. It wasn’t a matter of whether something went wrong anymore; it had become a question of when. Complications were inevitable, and the days of hoping for problem-free pit stops were a thing of the past, an annoying and inconvenient truth that there was no remedy for.

Ben’s mind wandered as his impatience festered in the oppressive heat, a condition the bikers seemed to exploit. Judging by the sighs and grunts of mumbled discourse from the others, they were equally frustrated with the apparent standoff. It crossed Ben’s mind that the gang might be attempting to wait them out, testing their endurance. However, this notion fell apart upon closer consideration—after all, the gang was enduring the same blistering conditions, stranded on the scorching asphalt just like Ben and his crew. The puzzle of the bikers’ strategy deepened, leaving the group to wrestle not only with the external threat but also with the mystery of the gang’s intentions.

“Dad?” Joel’s warning got Ben’s attention, and he refocused his gaze through the scope of his rifle.

The bikers had formed up in a tight V formation, the riders and passengers all back on board their respective vehicles, weapons drawn.

“Get ready,” Ben called out in warning. “Brad and Emma, stay down and keep those dogs off the road.” Ben wasn’t sure exactly where his youngest two were, but they were out of sight, and he wanted them to stay that way.

“We will.” Emma’s faint voice answered back from the thick weeds but was drowned out quickly by the sudden boisterous rumble of revving engines.

“Here they come,” Sandy shouted as Ben slid his finger onto the trigger of his gun and prepared to engage the threat.

He’d been anxious for the bikers to take action and spare them any more exposure to the life-sucking temperatures, but now that danger was imminent, the children’s safety was all he could think about.

19

Allie’s pulse quickened as the advancing bikes gained ground on their location. A few moments ago, she feared that her tolerance for sitting idle in this sweltering heat was at its end. But now she wished for a few more seconds to prepare for the fight at hand. Thirst was no longer her biggest concern.

She thumbed the safety on her rifle. It was already in the off position, but she just wanted to double-check as her finger caressed the trigger. The AR-15 Joel had pieced together for her from their exploits across the country had done wonders for her accuracy and confidence. But nothing could settle the jitters brought on by a life-and-death scenario like this.

She thought back to the man she’d killed in Missouri near the winery. Against her will, the event, and the emotions that went along with it, replayed in her mind like a movie reel. The feel of the trigger, the man’s reaction—or lack thereof—as he fell stiffly to the ground, and the pink mist that hovered like a cloud in the air afterward. She recounted all of it as if the incident had just happened recently rather than days ago. Allie shook it off as best she could and tried to focus on the bikers. Now wasn’t the time to get bogged down in self-pity, remorse, or guilt about things she had no control over to begin with. The others needed her to be present. They were counting on her just like she was counting on them.

Life on the road was fragile. The endless fighting and seemingly limitless supply of shady characters that wanted to end their existence was something she’d never willingly accept as a normal part of their lives, although the bitterness growing in her soul over what people like this gang represented was indisputable.

“Let ’em have it.” Ben gave the okay to shoot without warning.

Boom.

Allie knew the sound of Ben’s long rifle with the big scope by heart, but its thunderous bark still made her jump, and her reaction to the powerful rifle was unquestionably amplified by the adrenaline coursing through her veins and heightening her senses.

In her scope, Allie found the bike to the right of the leader and several yards back. The bikers’ formation reminded her of a flock of birds—if birds carried guns and were trying to kill her. She heard her mother’s rifle crack off a few rounds. Then Joel’s weapon barked just a few feet away, ringing her ears in the process.

Crack… crack… crack.

She squeezed off three rounds and saw the bike in her sights teeter slightly, but unfortunately, it regained control and fell back into formation. Her bullets did nothing but decorate the shroud of steel that protected the driver and his passenger.

Boom.

Ben took another shot with the big rifle, and this time, he got results. The bike heading up the assault wobbled and nearly took out the rider to its right, scraping the other bike’s fairing as it careened off the shoulder and flew into the weeds at a high rate of speed. Allie wondered if the driver and passenger would survive. She decided they would not after seeing the bike flip over the guardrail and throw two people over the barricade to the ground below.

This section of highway was more like an extension of the bridge, still maintaining its elevation over the low ground surrounding the river. They must have been at least a couple of stories above the lower terrain, and she could only imagine the harsh landing the two bikers would experience once they met the rocky bottom of the river basin. But there was no time to dwell on their fate with the five remaining bikes closing fast.

Allie fired her weapon several more times, her shots melding with the others, both outgoing and incoming.

“Watch the guy on the left. Last bike,” Ben shouted, cutting himself off with the report from his rifle.

Allie found the guy she thought Ben was talking about. She didn’t recognize the type of rifle he was brandishing, but there was no mistaking the high velocity of incoming rounds hitting the pavement and truck frame they were using for cover. Allie pulled back behind cover, meeting Joel on the ground behind the melted wheel.

“He’s got something automatic.” Joel’s eyes were wild as he peeled off his plated vest and shoved it at her.

“No, you keep it,” Allie protested.

“I’m not wearing it. Now put it on. That’s final.” Joel shoved the vest back at her, insisting she take it. Then, before she had a chance to argue further, he disappeared around the other side of the truck’s axle to resume shooting.

Frantically, Allie pulled the vest over her head as fast as she could, trying to steady her shaking hands as she fastened it around her body and married the buckles. She was careful to stay hunched over and below the wheels of the truck, doing her best to avoid the bullets zipping overhead and the shower of material raining down on them as it was chipped away by the incoming rounds. She was mad at Joel for putting himself in harm’s way on her account but grateful for his thoughtfulness. If something happened to him, though, she’d have to live with his decision to give her the vest. But she knew better than to argue, especially right now.

She recognized that look in Joel’s eye. The sweet, gentle boy that always made sure to wake up before her somehow and bring her wildflowers and coffee in the morning had checked out, replaced by a man molded by the realities of the life he was living. While this transformation was beneficial in situations like the one they were facing, it also made her uneasy. She worried about Joel’s willingness to take risks. His determination to protect her at any cost was evident, but the idea of a life without him seemed unbearable. The prospect of losing him due to his heroic actions weighed heavily on her heart, which was why she needed to get back into the fight.

She fastened the last vest strap and made her way back into shooting position as her mother, Ben, and Joel expended round after round in an effort to take down the approaching motorcycles. It felt like the bikers were toying with them now, moving in and out of range. They were currently close in, though, and Ben was operating the machine gun at a blistering rate, causing the barrel to smoke as he rattled through ammunition. The noise was almost unbearable, but she willed herself to concentrate and joined the fray.

A second bike went down in a far less dramatic fashion than the first, but it didn’t matter because both men were dead, or had to be close to it, when they hit the ground, their bodies riddled with bullets. Ben let off the trigger, silencing the M249 for a moment as Joel filled the gap and emptied his magazine. Allie joined him, focusing her efforts on the bike that he’d been aiming for, judging by the display of sparks.

“Another one down,” Joel celebrated while dumping his magazine and exchanging it for a fresh one.

Allie wasn’t sure if it was she or Joel who was responsible for the downed rider, but in the moment, it didn’t matter. There’d be plenty of time later to wallow in guilt and wonder if she’d justly taken another life. For now, though, there were still three more motorcycles with murderous bandits on board to contend with. And all but one of the bikes carried two people.

“One more down,” Sandy shouted from behind the crumpled sedan as the bike with the lone rider took a spill. Her mom had managed to hit the bike’s tire as the man attempted to turn around and head back the other way. The bikers weren’t retreating, just trying to stay out of range and take potshots at Allie and the others while using a few older wrecks and the remains of the CJ-7 as cover.

The man got up from the ground slowly, his tattered jeans exposing the bloody road rash he’d picked up during his slide to an eventual stop. His AR-15 survived the crash intact, held to his back with a sling. The downed biker reached for his gun as he staggered to a more upright position, but the wreck had slowed his movements considerably.

Boom.

Allie jumped again as the deep base of Ben’s rifle was amplified off the blacktop, the concussive energy passing through her like a gust of hot air. The bullet struck center mass, and the man stopped reaching for the gun on his back. Allie expected him to hit the ground any second, but instead, he went for the pistol in his belt. She couldn’t believe the bullet hadn’t dropped him on the spot. The downed motorcyclist must have been in shock, but that didn’t mean he was no longer a threat, and apparently, he was anxious to prove it.

Ben ran the bolt on his rifle to take another shot, but Sandy beat him to the punch and put three rounds into the man’s chest. The recently downed biker took two steps backward and fell to the ground, flat on his back, where he stopped moving altogether.

“One more,” Sandy shouted.

Allie found it difficult to fathom the transformation her mother had undergone in the past few weeks. She admired the way her mom had embraced their new life, and although Allie wasn’t sure what Durango held for them, she was certain that they could handle almost anything together. The worry she harbored for her mother was overshadowed by her immense pride; her mom had risen to the occasion of protecting them.

They still had two motorcycles to deal with, but they were making progress, and for the first time since taking cover behind this skeleton of a truck, Allie had a notion that they were going to be all right when the dust settled here today.

20

Ben held down the trigger, ripping through the last several dozen rounds in the M249’s ammunition box, pausing only twice in the process to re-aim the wily piece of hardware. These guys were either stupid or legends in their own minds.

The motorcycles with the passengers presented the biggest threat. They were highly maneuverable, heavily fortified with steel plating—almost to the ground—and had the ability to return fire with some degree of accuracy. All those things added up to an extremely formidable target.

Ben stripped the empty drum away from the SAW and slammed a thirty-round replacement into the slot, allowing for the use of a standard magazine. If this kept up much longer, Army regs would have required him to swap the barrel out. But that wasn’t going to happen, mostly because he’d left the spare in the truck.

He wished the bikers would come closer. Every time they got within range of the M249’s lethal ability, they peeled off into the tall grass and circled back for another run of trading shots with Ben and the others. It was like the bikers knew the exact limits of their armor.

Ben and his crew were whittling the gang down slowly, but he feared the remaining two bikes would prove immune to their bullets thanks to their design. Even the riders’ leathers were adorned with some light steel plating that seemed capable of repelling the 5.56 rounds and the .338 at range.

Then Ben noticed one of the men that had gone down earlier pulling himself across the pavement toward the shoulder of the highway. If he made it into the tall grass, they’d lose him, and that was a concern thanks to the shotgun strapped to his back. The kids and the dogs were over on the side of the road he was heading for. Ben wasn’t sure how banged up the guy was, but there was potential for him to crawl down along the shoulder and flank them. Letting him survive was too great a risk.

Boom.

Ben chambered another round, then checked through his scope to make sure the crawling man was dead. Satisfied, he laid the rifle down and manned the SAW once more but held his fire.

Crack… crack… crack… crack.

Ben listened to the others shooting while keeping an eye on the remaining motorcycles. They needed a new plan or they’d be here all day, taking potshots at these two brazen idiots and wasting ammunition.

“Hold your fire,” Ben called out. “Let’s see what they do. Maybe if they think we’re out, they’ll come in closer.”

“And then what? We’re not touching them through that armor.” Joel flinched as a bullet zipped overhead.

“I know. I’m thinking.” Ben didn’t know the best way out of this, but he was starting to feel like a baked potato that had been left in the oven too long. He licked his lips but couldn’t come up with enough spit to provide any relief. His ChapStick was in the Blazer, along with the spare barrel for the M249 and what little water they had left.

“You’re a hundred percent sure about that roadblock?” Ben asked again.

Joel confirmed what he’d reported earlier. “We can get through, but we’re going to have to use a tow strap to open up a path. It’s not going to be easy.”

“It’s just a single row of wrecked cars, but they were definitely put there on purpose,” Allie added.

Ben was at least encouraged to hear they wouldn’t have to double back in order to cross the river and continue on into Kansas, but the last thing he wanted to do was exert more energy in this heat by clearing the highway. Right now, though, he’d happily accept the challenge in lieu of their current situation.

“Ben, look!” Sandy shouted.

Ben turned to see both bikes heading straight at them, the sound of their escalating exhaust exposing their intentions as the bikes wound through the gears and picked up speed. The bikers were going to try and get on the other side of the truck and take Ben’s group out from behind. The Jeep and Blazer could provide cover from that angle, but at what cost? Flat tires, busted mechanical components… The possibilities for damage were endless if they allowed the motorcycles to get behind them and the trucks ended up in the line of fire. This could be the end of their trip.

Ben hadn’t given the signal to resume shooting yet, but that didn’t stop the others from opening fire on the speeding bikes. But Ben had another idea. He backed out from under the truck, leaving both weapons on the ground.

“Dad, where are you⁠—”

“Trust me.” Ben hastily grabbed the tow strap from the Blazer’s bumper-mounted cargo carrier and tossed the loose end to Joel. “Tie it off to the axle, quickly.”

Ben didn’t wait around to make sure his son accomplished what he’d asked him to do and instead flung the coiled strap across the highway as hard as he could, like a fireman unwinding a hose.

“Cover me,” he shouted.

As soon as the others started shooting, Ben sprinted for the median and the other end of the tow strap. Chunks of pavement exploded around him as the bikers tried to take him out. With any luck, they wouldn’t notice what he was doing until it was too late. Ben hit the hard, unforgiving ground and rolled into the overgrown median strip in a cloud of dust, finding temporary relief from the shooting. But there was no time to catch his breath.

He located the hooked end of the recovery strap a few feet away and snatched it off the ground. There was a road sign nearby, and he ran to it with the strap in hand, making sure not to take up the slack lying across the road. He worked his way around the sign, fighting the chest-high weeds as they scratched at his skin, then moved back toward the road, where he crouched down for a second.

Ben stood slowly until he could see over the crisp brown weeds. The bikers were still coming, and they were close. He wasn’t sure Joel had been able to get his end of the strap secured, but he was about to find out.

Wait for it… Wait.

“Now!” Ben’s shout was half grunt, half battle cry as he put everything he had into taking the slack out of the limp tow strap lying across the road.

He made several speedy wraps around the sign’s metal legs at about waist height, the slick nylon material allowing him to synch down on the line and add exponentially to the tension in the strap. The bright yellow tow strap vibrated with energy, hovering just a few feet off the road’s surface as Ben braced himself against the imminent force of the bikes.

The first bike was several yards ahead of the other, and the driver never saw the chest-high strap coming. There was no time to slow down. A few of the wraps fastened around the sign stanchion jumped violently under the strain of impact until, finally, the coils stopped giving way and held fast like a boa constrictor settling in for the kill. The bike’s forward momentum halted abruptly; however, the rider and his passengers did not. Both men were thrown from the bike, sailing through the air with limbs outstretched, flailing like rag dolls.

Before the first two riders had a chance to land, the second speeding bike joined the chaos, making contact with the tow strap as it snapped back into place. Although the driver of the second bike had some warning and managed to get on his brakes at the last second, it wasn’t enough to prevent disaster. The bike went sideways as the driver attempted to avoid the first wreck already lying on the ground. The maneuver proved moderately successful, allowing the driver to slip under the tow strap by mere inches. His passenger wasn’t as lucky, though, and the strap caught him dead center in his chest, flinging him backward off the bike and onto the hard ground. Ben heard the man hit the pavement with a thud that he swore he felt through the soles of his boots.

Ben let the end of the bright yellow toe strap fall from his grasp and reached for his pistol. The first two who were unfortunate enough to discover the tow strap lay motionless on the ground. Ben wouldn’t be surprised if they were both dead, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Crack… crack… crack.

Before Ben could react, Joel opened up on the second biker through the close-line-style trap. The man who’d avoided direct contact with the strap and laid his bike down was reaching for his weapon, but he wasn’t fast enough. No doubt the spill had left him more than a little dazed. Ben drew down on his passenger; the man was down and not moving, but he maintained his grip on an AR-15. The lack of a helmet and quick introduction to the asphalt hadn’t gone well for the armed passenger, though, judging by the pool of blood forming around his head.

Ben concentrated on the first two riders, who’d slid several yards past their landing spot, leaving a trail of skin and blood on the highway in their wake. One of them was moving now, and although the wounded man’s situation was hopeless, he wasn’t willing to accept defeat. Ben admired his determination, and in a way, he was even thankful for it. It made what needed to be done a lot easier.

Crack… crack.

Two rounds from Ben’s Glock put the man out of his misery and prevented him from reaching the sawed-off shotgun wedged in the twisted bike’s fairing. The man looked too weak to pose any real threat, but Ben was tired of playing games today and couldn’t come up with a compelling reason to extend the biker any grace. After all, Ben and the others hadn’t been afforded any mercy by this gang of ruthless thieves, and Ben saw no justification for extending their lives.

If you’re gonna be dumb, you better be tough.

Ben stared at the body for a few seconds more, then turned toward the others as they emerged from their hiding places around the charred box truck. Joel and Allie were closest to the action and approached quietly, taking it all in. Ben regretted shooting the man so coldly now, but it wasn’t out of pity for the biker; he was worried what the kids might think. There was a time when he might have let the guy go, but things were different now. And although survival was no more important or any less difficult than it had ever been, it sure felt like it.

Sandy exhaled deeply as she surveyed the wreckage and the scattered, twisted bodies of their assailants. No one said a word for what felt like minutes until Brad emerged from the overgrown shoulder with Gunner at his side.

“Whoa.” Brad’s eyes widened as he studied the scene.

“Give me a hand, will you, Joel?” Ben started making his way around what had turned into a spectacle of broken bikes and bodies, collecting weapons from the fallen gang members.

“Yeah, sure thing.” Joel jumped into action, and Allie followed along with her mother.

“Can you guys get the dogs loaded up, please?” Ben directed his question toward Emma and Brad, who were still easing their way out of the weeds and gawking at the gruesome results of the fight.

There were more of the gang down by the river encampment, and it would only be a matter of time before they showed up here. Ben had no intention of waiting around to meet them, although the temptation to finish what he’d started here and deliver a little well-deserved justice was hard to resist. But he valued the kids’ safety too much to risk getting involved in another situation that could just as easily go south for them.

In a matter of minutes, Ben and the others had the bikers’ bodies cleared from the roadway and their weapons confiscated. He and Joel tossed the gang’s belongings over the side of the elevated highway, taking a few seconds to enjoy the clatter of guns hitting the rocks below and making sure any weapons that hadn’t already been rendered useless in the crash were now broken.

Ben didn’t want the bikers’ weapons, nor did he need them, not to mention the Jeep and Blazer were already overloaded. But he also didn’t want to leave the guns lying around for the rest of the gang to recover. Why make it easy for them to torment other unsuspecting travelers? He was sure the guns they’d collected and disposed of weren’t the only weapons the gang had, but it felt good just the same. And it was a reasonable compromise since he wasn’t going to stick around and add to the pile of bodies hidden in the weeds a few yards away.

21

Ben scouted the area for anything important he might have forgotten while the kids and Sandy finished loading up. Gunner had his own ideas about when they’d leave, though, and apparently, that was after he’d personally inspected the mangled bodies and broken motorcycles littering the highway.

“I got him.” Ben chased after the curious dog as fast as his knee would allow, doing his best to keep up with Gunner, who was following the trail of blood and wreckage into the tall grass.

“We still need to collect the SAW and the ammunition belt links for the drum mag,” Ben called over his shoulder, hoping Emma and Brad would take up the task of retrieving the remaining gear with the older kids’ help.

Emma stood near the remnants of the box truck. She stared underneath the decimated cargo area, eyeing the scattered links littering the ground where Ben had burned through the box magazine as he held off the gang’s advances. “I guess I know what I’ll be doing while we’re driving.”

Ben stopped, turning to face his daughter for a moment. “It’s an important job, and because of your hard work piecing the ammo belt back together the last time, we’re still here to talk about it.” Ben offered his daughter words of encouragement, aiming to underscore the significance of their teamwork.

He was putting off crawling back under the truck for his knee’s sake, but if he could get the kids to do it and keep them from following Gunner toward the dead bikers, that was a win in his book. Brad and Emma weren’t stupid. They knew exactly what had gone down out here on the road. For all Ben knew, they could have been watching the whole thing. In fact, he’d wager anything that Brad had found a good vantage point from which to observe the action.

Ben’s attempts to shield the younger two, at the very least, from the harsh realities they confronted proved as futile as his attempts to maintain cleanliness in a world encrusted in dust and grime. He was well aware that protecting his children from the less desirable facets of survival was an uphill battle he couldn’t win, yet the persistent guilt of falling short hadn’t lost its sting.

When Ben caught up to Gunner, he’d already discovered the pile of bodies. Ben, Joel, Allie, and Sandy hadn’t gone too far out of their way to hide the disfigured bikers. They weren’t doing it for any other reason than to minimize the trauma to Brad and Emma and to clear the road so they didn’t have to drive over the dead or their wrecked motorcycles. Their attackers didn’t deserve any extra consideration or respect, but a bike part in one of their tires was a parting gift Ben could do without. And while he was in a modest hurry to leave, there was no need to be reckless.

“Come on, boy. We need to get going.” Ben encouraged Gunner to wrap up his investigation.

Gunner sniffed the pile of bodies once more, then turned his back on them and started for the trucks at Ben’s insistence. Out of the overgrown median and back on the hot pavement, Gunner picked up his pace. He trotted the rest of the way to the Scrambler, loaded up onto the passenger’s seat, and then made his way through to the back to wait for Brad.

The kids were gathering the last of the belt clips from under the box truck while Joel loaded the M249 into the Blazer.

“How much farther are we going today?” Joel looked to the horizon and the setting sun.

“Thanks to the welcome party here, I’d say a little farther than originally planned. There’s no telling how far their friends will go in the name of retribution.” Ben glanced past the charred box truck toward the wrecked CJ-7 and the bridge beyond.

While the setting sun released its final punishment on the earth for the day, its fading rays ignited the road’s surface in a golden glow, highlighting waves of heat that danced in the air. The landscape beyond wavered and bent, enveloped in a thermal aura from the asphalt that seemed to exhale the day’s final warning. The road and the distant landscape quivered in the intense heat, blurring the boundary between reality and illusion.

Ben almost expected another group of motorcycles to materialize from the wavering mirage, but the deceptive shimmer revealed nothing, although the glossy apparition served as a bitter reminder of the scarce water they urgently needed and the unforgiving drought afflicting the land around them. The mirage, slick and insubstantial, heightened the sense of thirst and emphasized the harsh realities of the challenges lying immediately ahead of them.

“Dad… Dad. We’re all set.” Joel headed for the truck after finally getting his dad’s attention.

Ben hadn’t realized he was still staring off into the distance. The dancing waves of heat had put him into a trance-like state, allowing him to slip into deep thought about the struggles waiting for them down the road. He and Joel were still wearing the same clothes as when they’d slogged through the ditch back where Sam had been abducted.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna change real quick,” Ben stated, then made his way to the Blazer’s tailgate.

Rummaging through his bag, Ben found a fresh set of clothes, shedding the mud-encrusted outfit until he stood in just his boxers. Nearby, Joel seized the opportunity and followed suit, finding cover behind the Jeep’s oversized spare tire. Although the day was far from over and promised more chances to get dirty, Ben yearned to feel human again. As they prepared for what lay ahead, the simple act of changing clothes offered a brief respite and a much-needed morale boost to help them cope with the journey that stretched before them.

Ben and Joel finished dressing and loaded up into their respective vehicles. Ben searched for his partially full Nalgene and swallowed several big gulps of warm water. Though he could have drained the entire container and dipped into his last remaining full bottle, he thought it wise to be conservative with the dwindling resource.

Lingering anywhere close to their current location to search for water was simply too dangerous. As soon as the rest of the bridge gang realized their cohorts weren’t coming back with spoils from the attack, they’d be on the hunt for answers. For Ben and his crew, staying one step ahead of their pursuers was the priority until they could rack up enough miles to search for water without having to exercise more than the usual amount of caution to stay out of trouble. And that went for making camp as well.

As the day neared its end, they found themselves with plenty to accomplish, racing against the fading daylight to achieve more than the remaining hours would permit. Add in the likelihood of being hunted by a crazed gang of desperate thieves, and there was really no choice in the matter; they had to drive well past their usual cutoff time. Avoiding the road in the darkness of night was a rule they’d bent before, but for the first time in a while, Ben was considering throwing the precedent out altogether.

It was time to look at the map, and based on Sandy’s decision—or, rather, insistence—on getting back behind the wheel, he’d have time to do that.

“I figured I might as well finish out the day and give your knee a rest,” Sandy suggested.

She’d get no argument from him this time. His knee was sore and getting worse as the day progressed. There just wasn’t as much room to extend his left leg from the driver’s seat as there was over here.

“It’s all you. I’ve got to find us a place to spend the night anyway.” Ben buckled in and waved the map in the air.

“Are we going to be driving for long?” Emma asked.

“Not sure how much longer, but I’m looking for fresh water and a little distance from this place,” Ben said.

“I guess it really doesn’t matter,” Emma replied, then excused herself from further interaction by opening a book.

Ben noticed the two dogs back in their usual spots. Bajer lay as close to Emma as she could manage, and Sam was in the cargo area, licking her injured paw.

“I feel you, Em. It won’t be long, though. Promise.” Ben turned his attention to the atlas.

Sandy pulled out behind the Scrambler, and together, they added one more story to their cross-country trek with yet another struggle that would be impossible to forget no matter how hard they tried.

22

Ben had all but forgotten about the roadblock ahead, and just as Allie reported earlier, the setup was incredibly evident. An obviously unnatural and apparent series of wrecks had been strung together to form a makeshift yet unremarkable barrier—certainly less formidable compared to other roadblocks they’d faced. It appeared the bridge gang had dedicated more effort to welding steel plates onto their vehicles than fortifying their roadblock. Fortunately for Ben and the others, the sorry excuse for a deterrent and the gang’s ineptitude worked to their advantage.

Joel must have been formulating a plan to deal with the highway blockage from the moment he spotted it, evident in the swift manner he leaped from the Scrambler’s seat and started unraveling the tow strap Ben had recently utilized to eliminate the last two motorcycles. Sandy brought the Blazer to a halt just as Allie slid from the driver’s seat. In the back of the Jeep, Brad stood up, vying for a position at the roll bar with Gunner, both equally intrigued by their latest challenge.

Joel motioned for Sandy to pull ahead of the Scrambler and drive up to the spot where he was standing. Ben hopped out of the truck as Sandy crept to a stop once more at Joel’s direction, several feet away from one of the wrecked cars. Joel already had one end of the heavy-duty recovery strap looped around the banged-up sedan’s C pillar, a job made significantly easier by the lack of a rear window—or any other glass, for that matter.

“I’m thinking we need the Blazer for this job. Don’t know if the Jeep’s got the muscle or the weight.” Joel patted the Chevy’s hood with his hand.

“Good idea.” Ben smiled. “Looks like you’ve got this all figured out.”

“You can help if you feel left out,” Joel joked and handed his dad the other end of the tow strap.

Ben took the hooked end of the strap from his son and attached it to one of the tow shackles that was mounted to the Blazer’s bumper. He was proud of his son, and it made Ben feel good to see Joel using his head rather than relying on brawn to accomplish the task at hand. The sedan he’d hooked to was the smallest car in the string of wrecks, and the back end of the car was the lightest part to move, as it lacked the engine. Ben wasn’t sure Joel had actually considered these factors when choosing a vehicle to pull from the roadblock, but he liked to think he had.

“Okay, go ahead and back it up, nice and easy. There you go.” Ben guided Sandy backward in the Blazer while Joel and Allie gave the tow strap some room as it tightened.

“Okay, hold it there.” Ben joined his son and Allie, putting some distance between himself and the tow strap that was starting to hum and groan under the strain of the sedan’s weight.

“All right, now give it some gas. Nice and steady,” Ben instructed.

The top of the sedan began to roll toward them, and for a moment, Ben thought the car would flip over before it broke loose from the blacktop. The tires were long gone, and the wheels were well entrenched in the road’s surface due to the vehicle being dragged into place when the roadblock was made.

“It’s gonna go,” Allie announced.

Ka-chunk.

The car popped out of the deep grooves holding the car in place, breaking off chunks of steel from the rim in the process. The noise it made sliding across the blacktop was akin to nails on a chalkboard, and it sent a shiver up Ben’s spine.

“Oh.” Allie covered her ears.

“There you go. Keep it up. Keep going. More… more… a little more. Okay, good. I think we can get through there.” Joel signaled the job was complete with a closed fist in the air, and the roar of the Blazer’s mighty V-8 subsided to an idle once again.

Sandy pulled forward a couple of feet, allowing Ben to disconnect the tow strap from the bumper, while Joel unwrapped the other end. Ben made sure to inspect the freshly cleared path for anything that could possibly take out a tire and kicked a few pieces of dicey-looking debris to the side.

“I think we’re good to go.” He nodded back at the group.

“And what are we going to do about water? That’s something we need to think about.” Allie held up her empty Nalgene and shook it.

“We’re pretty much out,” Joel confirmed.

Ben stood quietly for a second, thinking about how stumbling upon the encampment had ruined their chances to top off their water and put them in a bad position from a couple of different perspectives. It was getting late, and they’d need to find a place to camp soon—but not too close—and they needed a place to get water. The Kansas River was an hour’s drive or more, depending on road conditions and any lunatics they might encounter along the way, a factor that could never be discounted. Finding trouble seemed to be the only thing they could manage to do consistently and with any amount of success today.

Ben laid out his plan for the others. “I think our best bet is to push through to the Kansas River, maybe an hour, hour and a half of serious driving. We should be able to make good time once we get back on I-70. And that’s about ten or fifteen miles from here.”

“The rivers seem to be trouble for us,” Sandy cautioned.

“Yeah, we haven’t had a lot of luck with rivers and bridges.” Emma poked her head out of the Blazer’s passenger side window.

“What choice do we have, guys? Meanwhile, we’re standing here, wasting time.” Joel paced across the recently opened path through the roadblock.

“I hear what you’re saying.” Ben glanced at Sandy and Emma. “But Joel’s right. We need water, and that’s not going to change. And we need to get moving.”

“So the Kansas River it is, then?” Allie interjected cheerfully, ending a conversation that was going nowhere fast.

Under a chorus of sighs and groans, they all loaded up and prepared to pull out. They were tired, thirsty, and suffering from an adrenaline crash as the excitement of the firefight wore off. None of these things were conducive to a good mood or positive outlook. And who could blame them? Most of their days were tough ones, but this one seemed to linger, and the late start that Ben had initially dismissed as no big deal was coming back to haunt them as they ran out of daylight much too far from what he would consider an ideal place to rest.

Ben double-checked the atlas, measuring the miles once again to make sure he’d given the others an accurate estimate of the time it would take to reach the river. There would be some night driving involved if they were going to make camp near or on the Kansas River tonight. And late nights made for hard mornings.

Ben didn’t mind the camping all that much, although sleeping on the ground was certainly getting old. But arriving at a spot after dark always added an element of difficulty and concern to the process. Using artificial light to scout out an area to spend the night was not his preferred method of doing things. And the lack of natural light made it too easy to miss potential hazards. Not to mention, stumbling around in the dark with flashlights or under car headlights was a blatant advertisement of their location.

If they didn’t need water so badly, Ben would have been more content to settle for someplace off the beaten path, a random spot well off the highway set back in the woods. It was unsurprising that the rivers and watersheds were attracting other survivors. But the character and ethics of these individuals were downright concerning.

Ben stared out the window as they rode in silence, the highway stretching out before them, a winding ribbon of uncertainty. Another few miles and they’d pick up I-70 once more on the other side of Kansas City. The route they’d chosen allowed them to avoid the ravaged metropolis, but after the incident at the bridge, avoiding the city and any trouble it might hold seemed like less of a win than it should have. Ben couldn’t help but wonder if they would have been better off saving time and driving straight through. They could have been a quarter of the way through Kansas by now. Or at least preparing to confidently set up camp in a spot that had been properly vetted.

These remained the ongoing hurdles they encountered while navigating life on the road in the aftermath of society’s collapse. Since the inception of this journey, there was no indication that circumstances would take a turn for the better, at least not in the foreseeable future. Any optimism for improvement had long been abandoned. While they were becoming more adept at handling challenges, it appeared that the difficulties were matching pace with their growing skills. That was a sobering acknowledgment, one that Ben chose not to focus on.

He looked back at Emma. She held her book close to her face, trying to read despite the dwindling daylight.

“Here.” Ben switched on the red light in his headlamp and handed it to her.

“But won’t that be a waste of the battery?” Emma’s brow wrinkled.

Ben had been strict with the kids when it came to using things unnecessarily, especially when replacing those things might not be possible. He might regret letting her use the headlamp to read later, but right now, whatever the cost, it was worth it. It had been a tough day, and although it really wasn’t that different from any of the others, Ben couldn’t bring himself to care about using a couple of batteries. They were a small price to pay for his daughter to have a little taste of what could be considered a luxury.

Ben smiled. “I think we can make an exception tonight.”

23

They hadn’t been on I-70 for long when Ben spotted an old church as they were passing through one of the many small towns, another speck on the map, ravaged by fire and looting. It was astounding that the church still stood resilient amid the chaos, appearing largely untouched other than the soot stains and streaks of gray on the weathered exterior caused by nearby fires. A remarkable feat considering the absence of any discernable solar panels. Even the windows and doors were intact, an anomaly for almost any surviving structure they encountered.

But something else about the place caught Ben’s attention—or at least piqued his curiosity. The church in Indiana, where Gunner had chased the dumpster raccoon, featured a baptismal pool. It wasn’t a large tank, but it did hold a couple hundred gallons, and despite its surface being covered with a thick film of dust, it could have passed for spring water compared to the stuff they’d been filtering from the silt-laden rivers and streams. They’d turned their noses up at the dirty water then, but in hindsight, it might have been some of the cleanest they’d discovered so far outside the Rocky Mountains.

Checking the church for water was a risky proposition, but what wasn’t these days? And if they did manage to find water, that would mean they could camp anywhere they wanted tonight, almost. Finding clean water here also meant that they could camp sooner rather than later. Ben considered their options and made a decision before they were too far past the exit.

“Come in, guys. Let’s pull into that church and check it out. They might have water in their baptismal tank. Remember the church in Indiana where Gunner chased the raccoon? Over.” Ben held the radio close, waiting for a response.

Joel’s voice crackled over the two-way. “That might work. We’ll come back around to the exit. Over.”

Ben hadn’t been quick enough, and while the Blazer could still make the turn, the Jeep would have to back up to join them.

“Go ahead. They’ll catch up,” Ben instructed.

Sandy was on the brakes as soon as Ben sent the message to the others, and all she had to do was cut the wheel hard to the right and steer them onto the ramp. Ben watched the Jeep for a minute to make sure it was following and could get back to the exit before he turned his attention to their goal. Sandy navigated the exit ramp while the church disappeared momentarily behind the overgrown vegetation lining the road.

“Seems odd, doesn’t it?” Sandy remarked.

“A little, but if we can find water, it could pay off big time and spare us from dealing with finding a campsite at the river tonight.” Ben leaned forward in his seat as they came around the corner, the church coming into full view once again.

“It’s a shame. One of the few things I used to look forward to was finding a nice spot near water.” Sandy shook her head. “Now, not so much.”

“Yeah, things are changing,” Ben acknowledged.

He felt the same as Sandy, and the others would probably agree. They’d found some nice spots along the way to Maryland and back, only to have them ruined by the desperate—or, it seemed sometimes, the just plain evil remnants of society’s rejects. He expected things to get worse, but that couldn’t go on forever, could it?

The Scrambler was right behind them now, and the two trucks finished navigating the sharp curve of the exit together, leaving them on the main drag of what was once a decent little town. The church was less than half a mile from the end of the ramp, and it didn’t take long before they were sitting in the gravel parking lot, staring at the soot-stained, clapboard-sided sanctuary. The buildings on either side were no farther than twenty yards away and had been reduced to ash. It was fitting that the church survived, seeing as how its existence was nothing short of a miracle, considering the odds.

They sat for a minute while Ben gathered two extra magazines for the MP5 and reclaimed his headlamp from Emma. Sandy and the others could cover the outside while he went inside the church and looked around for water.

He got out of the Blazer, closing the door gently behind him. “You guys stay put until I check the place out. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

Joel already had his door open but stopped. “Take the radio with you. If you find water, let us know, and we can come in with the stuff. I’m guessing that we’ll still have to filter any water we find in there.”

Ben reached into the passenger window of the Blazer, and Sandy handed him the radio. “Be careful,” she warned.

“Always.” Ben gave Sandy and Emma a reassuring grin. He attached the radio to his belt, then answered Joel. “If there’s any water in there, we’ll definitely have to filter it.”

He peered through the dimming twilight, his senses heightened by the growing shadows around the piles of rubble. The collapsed and burnt remains of the town provided an abundance of locations from which someone could launch an ambush. The air was thick with tension as he started for the church. The gravel crunched and crackled under his feet with each step, giving away his otherwise stealthy approach.

He glanced back at the trucks, encouraged to see the others taking the unplanned pit stop and associated risk as seriously as him. Joel and Allie were both outside the Jeep, along with Sandy, who’d taken a position at the rear of the Blazer and was watching the road. Emma remained in the truck, while Brad did the same but stood with his back against the roll bar, a rifle in his hands.

Stepping gingerly, Ben ascended the staircase toward the faded red double doors at the front of the building. The decrepit appearance of the structure made him take precautions about where he stepped to minimize any potential noise, well aware that their attempt at stealth had already been compromised when they pulled into the parking lot.

Ben held the MP5 with his right hand while trying the door handle with his left. To his surprise, the knob turned, and the door creaked open several inches. Before he could see anything inside the poorly lit building, a warm draft of air laden with the smell of death stung his nostrils, causing him to take a couple of steps back.

“Oh, man.” Ben pushed past the foul odor and stepped up to the door once more.

“Everything okay?” Joel called from the truck in a loud whisper.

Ben signaled to the others that he was fine but didn’t answer. There was a dead body in the church. Whether it was human or animal, he wasn’t sure, but the promise of water remained. He pressed on, wedging the door open the rest of the way with his foot, relatively certain that no one in their right mind would hide out in a place that smelled this bad.

He held off on using the headlamp just in case he was wrong about the place being occupied. Wearing the light made him an easy target, and he’d manage without it for as long as he could. There was enough residual light slipping in through the open doorway that he could fumble his way down the aisle between the pews. Beyond the horrific odor that permeated the church, he could feel the presence of heavy dust in the air, possibly kicked up by the draft he’d caused, and he thought it a good idea to pull his shirt collar over his nose, although it did little to alleviate the stench, unfortunately.

Once he was several feet inside the building, Ben took a moment to let his vision adjust. Remaining perfectly still, he listened for any sounds that would indicate he wasn’t alone, but he heard nothing. The temptation to utilize the headlamp was almost irresistible, but a lone skylight over the rear of the stage provided just enough light for him to locate the baptismal tank. The neat beam of remaining daylight cut through the darkness like a knife, illuminating the very thing he was looking for and nothing else inside, as if destiny had brought him here. A reward for the misery he and the others had been subjugated to today?

Ben laughed to himself. He didn’t believe that for one second.

He approached the pulpit, climbing the plushy carpeted steps until he was only a few feet from the tank. A large cross hung on the wall over the raised platform, which led left and right to a backstage area. Ben stood there for another moment, listening and thinking about the last church he was in near Fort Wayne, Indiana. Vince made the ultimate sacrifice that night, a vision that would stay with Ben for the rest of his days, just like the responsibility he felt about the way things went down that night.

Ben’s thirst snapped him out of his morbid daydream, and as he stepped toward the tank, his left foot caught something on the floor, and he nearly fell down. Regaining his composure quickly, Ben flipped on the red light of his headlamp and identified the tripping hazard that had almost taken him out.

“There you are.” Ben took a step back, studying the body.

A man, or what was left of him, lay on the floor. The skin on his face was taut and sunken, his eyes missing, no doubt the work of a resident critter. His velvet robe and ornate sash were covered in a fine layer of dust, indicating the body had been here for quite some time. Ben wagered the body had lain here untouched since the bombs went off.

Ben noticed the priest was clutching a book in one hand and an empty communion glass in the other. Boney knuckles devoid of flesh clung to the items as if the man was still alive, the dehydrated skin chewed away, most likely by whatever had taken the eyes. He backed away toward the raised baptismal tank until he felt it against his back. Ignoring the corpse as best he could, Ben focused his headlamp on the objective. At first glance, he thought there was some type of cover over the tank but soon realized it was just a thick layer of dust. He grabbed a nearby empty offering plate and stirred the water gently, trying to clear the gray film off the surface.

There wasn’t as much water as he’d hoped to find in the baptismal, but there was enough to fill the empty Nalgenes and some of the five-gallon container. He’d move the body before inviting the others inside. Or maybe he’d just have Sandy bring the filter and empty containers. They could spare the kids this experience, and Joel and Allie could keep a much-needed watch on their surroundings outside.

These were less-than-ideal circumstances, but their gamble had paid off. They’d have enough water to get them through until tomorrow, when they could find a proper place to resupply.

24

Ben pulled the radio from his belt and was about to call the others and give them the good news when he heard something behind him. Spinning around with the MP5 ready for action, he prepared to unload. As his headlamp bathed the sanctuary in an eerie crimson hue, Ben discovered the real cause of the nauseating stench inside the church.

Staring back at him were no less than a couple dozen corpses scattered throughout the pews. Some of the bodies had fallen over in their seats, but some were still sitting upright, mouths agape as if they’d launch into a hymn at any moment. The noise he’d heard was a mouse scavenging what nourishment it could from one of the bodies nearby.

The revelation made Ben gasp, and he drew in even more of the putrid air, making his eyes water and triggering his gag reflex. He let the MP5 fall to his side and hang by its sling while attempting to regain his composure. Eventually, his heart rate began to normalize, and he felt confident he’d suppressed his urge to vomit.

He couldn’t let the others come in here, especially the younger kids. They’d seen more than their fair share of dead bodies, but this was different and uniquely disturbing. They’d been exposed to enough nightmare-inducing memories on this trip to last a lifetime; this wasn’t an image they needed to add to the library of atrocities they’d witnessed.

Finally feeling like he had a handle on his initial reaction to the grisly scene, Ben approached the first row of pews, noticing something familiar right away. He took another step forward, inspecting the bodies as he went. They were all in possession of or sitting near a communion cup, like their dead leader up on the stage.

Ben thought for a minute. Then the realization of what had possibly taken place here hit him harder than the foul stench that burned his nose when he first opened the church door. This was a mass suicide, the result of a gullible congregation deceived by their leader. Or simply a group of people believing the afterlife was a better option than what the EMPs had left them with.

Ben returned the two-way radio to his belt, realizing that his recent discovery had further implications beyond exposing the others to additional trauma. He made his way back up to the pulpit and performed a more thorough search of the immediate area. As he suspected, Ben found an empty bottle a few feet away from the priest’s decaying body. Examining the container without a label, he waved his hand over the opening and sniffed the air. There was no discernable odor, or if there was, he couldn’t smell it over the decomposing remains.

Ben was concerned that the baptismal was tainted with whatever this gullible congregation had ingested. There was no way of knowing if their leader had dosed out the lethal serving directly into the communion cups for his flock or if he’d laced the water in the tank with the toxin and the dead men and women in the pews had lined up to serve themselves from the baptismal, one by one. The stack of cups along the edge of the baptismal—which Ben hadn’t noticed until now—didn’t answer any questions about what exactly had taken place here, but it did solidify his reservations about the safety of the water.

Ben mustered enough saliva to swallow, but not enough to satiate his parched throat, reminding him that the lack of drinkable water was more than just an inconvenience. And although the undeniable evidence was laid out before him, the disappointment and realization that they would not be able to get water here was a hard blow. He’d tried to temper his expectations as they pulled into the gravel parking lot, but the roller coaster of emotions that came with finding water and then having it yanked away like this was almost too much to bear in the moment.

In a burst of frustration, Ben couldn’t contain his emotions any longer, and he hurled the bottle against the wall behind the baptismal tank, narrowly avoiding the mounted cross. As shards of brown glass rained down into the dust-covered water, Ben was flooded with immediate remorse for his impulsive actions. Being within the confines of a church only intensified the guilt he felt for letting his temper get the best of him.

But it wasn’t just the bad water that had gotten to him; it was the thought of walking out of here and having to report to the others that this pit stop had been a failure. He could see the looks of defeat on their faces already. Ben let out a deep sigh and gathered himself for the unfortunate task of delivering bad news as he headed for the exit.

“Come in. Everything okay in there? Over.” He could hear the nervousness in Sandy’s voice, which only multiplied the regret he already felt about losing his cool.

He didn’t bother answering Sandy’s call and walked out onto the church’s well-weathered front stoop a few seconds later, shaking his head solemnly.

“Nothing at all?” Joel objected to his father’s report.

“There’s water, but it’s no good,” Ben confirmed.

A collective chorus of sighs and groans rose from the group. Joel started for the church as if he intended to check for himself, but Ben met him in the parking lot and put his hand on his son’s chest.

“You don’t want to go in there. Please, just trust me on this,” Ben implored.

Joel didn’t resist, relaxing his stance and meeting Ben’s eyes. “So what’s the plan, then? It’s almost dark.”

“We keep driving until we reach the river.” Ben slid his hand to his son’s shoulder and guided him back toward the vehicles, where the others were waiting with even bigger looks of disappointment on their faces than Ben was prepared for.

This bust of a pit stop was hitting them all hard. Ben could sense the others’ dissatisfaction and irritation with their current predicament, but he was powerless to do anything more about it. Today had been exceptionally tough, or maybe it just felt that way because they were tired, dirty, and running on fumes. What they needed was water, a good campsite, and a decent meal. Tomorrow was a new day, and they had to remember that. This wasn’t the first time they’d been kicked while they were down, and it wouldn’t be the last.

They were still an hour’s drive from the closest and most probable water source, a fact Ben decided to keep to himself for the time being. They all knew how far they had to go before resting tonight, but reminding them would go over like a lead balloon right now. Ben didn’t even want to think about the chances of the river being polluted.

They’d been downstream of the Kansas River watershed, but that was no assurance there wasn’t a local issue with the water quality near the town of Lawrence. It didn’t take much to ruin a spot: an overturned truck, a downed plane, or an overflowing wastewater treatment plant that had run amuck without workers to monitor the facility. Ben thought about the plane bleeding hydraulic fluid into the stream on the way back to the house from their camping trip that fateful first day. The chances for failure out here on the road were endless. A daunting aspect of their journey that seemed to dog them constantly.

Ben switched positions with Sandy and suggested Joel do the same with Allie. A fresh set of eyes behind the wheel might mean the difference between plowing into an unexpected wreck on the roadway or spotting the hazard in time to avoid a collision. Ben was always concerned about attracting attention with the vehicles’ lights at nighttime, but the biggest threat they faced was navigation. The vast majority of vehicles left on the highway were well camouflaged in the darkness; their flat-black, scorched exteriors were much better at absorbing headlights than reflecting them. They’d even had some near misses during the daytime, thanks to the ever-encroaching vegetation that was no longer being maintained by road crews.

“Eyes peeled, everyone. This is going to be a group effort tonight,” Ben warned the others from his open window, although his urge for caution was probably unnecessary.

“It’s going to be another late night,” Sandy admitted.

Pulling out onto the highway at this hour felt unnatural. They’d abided by the daylight-traveling-only rule for so long now that what they were doing seemed not only wrong but a little foolish. He was hoping last night would be the exception; he’d been trying to put Sanctuary well behind them and avoid any of Jerimiah Stone’s overzealous, surviving militia members. Now here they were, doing almost the exact same thing.

Was this going to be the new norm from here on out, all the way back home? Ben hoped this wasn’t an indication of how the rest of the trip was going to go. If it was, he’d be inclined to drive straight through to Durango, stopping only for gas and water as needed, hazardous driving conditions and fatigue be damned.

Ben settled in behind the wheel, trying to extend his left leg out as far as he could in an attempt to reduce his discomfort as much as possible. It hadn’t been a long day due to their late start, but his body was telling him otherwise.

“We’ll make something to eat when we get there, I guess?” Sandy asked.

“How about I cover tent setup while you get dinner going? That will save us a little time. Hopefully, the kids will be on water duty if we find a good spot.”

“It’s a deal,” Sandy agreed.

“I can help with dinner if you want?” Emma offered.

Sandy grinned. “Thanks, I’d like that, Emma.”

Emma had given up on reading by headlamp, which was just as well since Ben wanted all hands on deck when it came to watching the road. He was glad to see his daughter eager to help out. They needed everyone to do their part when they reached camp if they expected to get any sleep tonight and pull off a reasonably early departure time tomorrow. Ben was determined to break the cycle and get back on their normal schedule, but as he was well aware, they often had little control over those things.

25

Ben wanted to ask Sandy to check the atlas again but didn’t. He’d already asked her for several updates after passing the last set of weed-choked highway signs. Ben had announced to the others after their last fiasco with the bridge encampment gang that they would only need another hour and a half at the most to reach their new destination. He’d figured his estimate was conservative but failed to take into consideration the specific difficulties of traveling at night.

Ben had taken the lead from Joel, and against his better judgment, he was using the Blazer’s push-bar-mounted off-road lights to supplement the fifty-plus-year-old Chevy’s original lackluster headlamps. The aftermarket LEDs did an exceptional job of lighting the way; however, Ben was afraid they were doing far more than that.

The off-road lights were costing them more than just stealth at the moment, thanks to the solid concrete barrier that had replaced the weed-choked median some miles back. The pale white concrete highway divider reflected a good portion of the blazing-white light back into the cab of the Blazer and Ben’s eyes. But it was well worth the discomfort every time he was alerted to a flash of metal or piece of vehicle debris on the highway ahead. As much as the auxiliary lights illuminated the road ahead, though, they made the near-moonless night seem even darker outside the reach of their beams, adding to the already overwhelming sense of isolation and vulnerability.

The sooner they could exit the highway, the better. If sitting on the edge of their seats in anticipation of the next road sign could expedite their journey, they would have seen the next milepost by now.

“It’s got to be coming up any minute now.” Sandy was referring to the exit they were watching for.

Exit 204 to Lawrence was located several miles before the bridge over the Kansas River, but like with most highway river crossings, they would need to utilize a few secondary roads to actually reach the river. There was almost always a power line road or utility access road that could be taken from the end of any paved route. Without the trucks, this entire trip would have ended before it even started. They weren’t without their quirks or scars, but if there ever came a time when he had the means and life allowed it, he vowed to fully restore Joel’s Blazer to a condition well beyond its former glory.

That was a pipe dream, though, and Ben wasn’t sure fixing up the Blazer would ever be possible, but it was easy to get lost in thoughts about better days, especially with the headlights being mirrored back at them every few seconds as they bounced off the reflectors mounted to the concrete divider.

“There, I see something up ahead.” Sandy leaned even farther forward in her seat.

“I see it, too,” Emma stated.

Eventually, an overhead highway sign materialized out of the darkness, indicating the exit they were looking for; it lay just five miles ahead. Seeing the sign was a relief, but finding the place they were looking for was just the beginning. There was still plenty of work to do before he could crawl into his tent.

“Come in, guys. We’re taking the next exit. Over,” Sandy said over the radio.

“Copy that. Over,” Allie answered.

“I was beginning to think we’d never get there,” Sandy added.

“It was starting to feel that way.” Ben gave a burned-out pickup truck a wide margin as he steered the Blazer around the wreck.

He would have been more excited about their proximity to the exit, but his mood was tempered by the fact that finding the river didn’t automatically mean they’d found a campsite. Outside the chores of making dinner, filtering water, and setting up camp, there was the chance that they’d run into people by the water. But that was always the case, no matter the time of day, although making camp in the dark provided its own unique set of challenges and dangers.

There was no way to avoid advertising their approach tonight. Ben wished once again that he’d bartered with Ed for the night vision goggles, although he doubted the man would have parted ways with them for any amount of ammunition, and he wouldn’t have blamed him.

The last few miles went by quickly, thanks to a clear highway and Ben’s inability to refrain from pushing the Blazer along a little faster than he should have in these conditions. But the anticipation of wrapping up a troubling day was impossible to stifle. Even Sam and Bajer came to life as if they could tell their confinement to the truck was close to an end.

Ben navigated the exit slowly, taking the blind curve with extreme caution. He followed the roundabout at the end and made the turn onto a secondary road that, according to the atlas, headed toward the river. A mile or so later, he hung a right down a dirt road that followed the highway above them. They bounced along for a couple of minutes at a reduced rate of speed, navigating the pothole- and washboard-scarred road until they reached a set of train tracks. Ben strained to see beyond the railroad without the use of the off-road lights, which he’d turned off after leaving the interstate, and spotted the river ahead.

He stopped for a minute and turned the headlights off altogether, scanning the bank for any signs of life. Joel followed suit and killed the Scrambler’s headlights as well.

“I don’t see anything,” Sandy commented.

“Me neither,” Emma agreed from her perch over the console while trying her best to hold the enthusiastic dogs at bay behind her.

Based on how the day had gone, Ben could hardly believe they were fortunate enough to find an unoccupied spot, but he wasn’t about to overthink the situation. He was too tired, anyway.

“Hang on.” Ben drove over the train tracks and picked up another, lesser-defined trail on the other side, following the path all the way to the river’s edge and into a clearing directly under the bridge.

Staying under the bridge would conceal them from any travelers passing overhead, and to further keep themselves out of sight, they’d forgo a fire tonight. But it was the lack of apparent firewood that made doing without a fire an easy decision. They were surrounded by barren farm fields; the local crops had failed to grow any more than several inches out of the soil before succumbing to the drought.

Ben wasn’t a fan of the exposed site here, and under better circumstances, he would have insisted they look for a better location, but not tonight. He parked the Blazer nose-out in case they needed to leave in a hurry and signaled for Joel to do the same. With the trucks parked, everyone unloaded. The usual spring in their steps was noticeably missing. Only the dogs had enough energy to run around with any amount of excitement, and they found the water right away.

Ben wanted to get a look at the river to make sure the water wasn’t polluted, but lapping tongues beat him to it, letting him know the river was likely in good shape.

“I’ll work on the tents if you guys want to get started on water,” Ben suggested.

“We probably have enough for tonight since the dogs can drink their fill from the river. Can we just do it in the morning?” Joel asked.

“No. I want it done tonight. We have no idea what the morning is gonna look like. We might not be able to,” Ben stated.

“Fine.” Joel sighed and joined Allie in gathering the tools they would need to get the job done.

Ben knew they didn’t feel like filtering several gallons of water right now, but he didn’t feel like setting up the tents by himself, either. And he wasn’t taking any chances when it came to water. They’d struck out twice today already, and putting off what needed doing until morning seemed like an unnecessary risk.

Sandy and Emma set up the gas stove and got to work making dinner. Ben was going to suggest they all eat MREs, but they were starting to run low on the quick-to-make provisions. And Sandy had suggested they use some of the rice they had left and any remaining vegetables from Ed and Julia’s before they went bad.

Ben focused the red beam of his headlamp on the task at hand and got busy organizing tent poles and laying out the campsite, making sure to stop and take in their surroundings every so often to make sure they were still alone.

“Need some help, Dad?” Brad approached from the river, apparently turned away by Joel from helping with the water.

“Sure thing, buddy.” Ben smiled at his youngest and tossed him one of the bivies still in the bag.

It felt good to finally be able to accept his son’s offer to help with something. On so many occasions, Brad had wanted to help out, but the situation was always too dangerous. Setting up the tents wasn’t very exciting, but it gave them some much-needed semi-alone time together. Ben felt like he was neglecting his youngest to some degree, but that was largely due to Brad traveling in the Jeep with Joel and Allie.

He promised to make a point of including Brad in more things if he could, something that would be a lot easier to do once they reached Durango. There would be no shortage of chores and small tasks that Brad could throw himself into back home. It was obvious now that they’d have to start hunting and trapping sooner than Ben anticipated.

They had enough MREs and other provisions to last the duration of the trip, even if it took another few days, God forbid. But it wasn’t Ben’s intent to arrive in Durango empty-handed and depleted of all supplies. He wanted to maintain a comfortable buffer when it came to food, enough for them to get their feet on the ground without worrying about where the next meal was coming from. He’d planned on having more of the MREs left, but he also had no idea it would take this long to get home. Of course, that wouldn’t have been the case if everyone they met wasn’t trying to kill them.

26

Surprisingly, the three dogs were the first to return from the river, exhausted from drinking their fill and frolicking in the shallows.

“Oh, Bajer.” Emma fought to keep her balance as Bajer pushed her head into the girl’s leg and nuzzled her for attention, the way she often did.

Gunner and Sam were content to flop down in the sandy soil and take in the smells of dinner. Emma laid out the dogs’ bowls and gave them all a heaping spoonful of rice over their kibble before Sandy added the vegetables. It wouldn’t be the best meal they had on the road, that much was certain, but tonight they had no room to be choosy about what they filled their bellies with, so long as they got it done quickly and hit the rack.

Ben didn’t want a repeat of this morning and vowed to break camp at a respectable hour tomorrow, regardless of how he or the others felt come sunup. That wouldn’t make him very popular with the kids, but unfortunately, reaching Durango trumped their feelings at this point. And thanks to his insistence that chores be done before everyone got comfortable at tonight’s campsite, he had apparently already lost Joel and Allie’s favor this evening.

They were all working well enough together as a team, but it was more than obvious that road fatigue was real and starting to affect them all. Ben finished erecting Sandy’s bivy and stood for a moment, supervising Brad as he added the last touches to Allie’s tent. Gunner, finished with dinner, took advantage of Allie’s under-bivy mat and curled up along the edge of the plastic. Sam followed suit, choosing to lie outside Brad’s tent while cleaning several pieces of rice from her jowls.

“There, that’s the last of them. Now what?” Brad stepped back, admiring his work in the red glow of the headlamp.

“Good job. Now we eat.” Ben wished he had a fraction of the energy his son seemed to be overflowing with.

“I could go help Joel and Allie with the water?” Brad offered.

“Let’s let them take care of that tonight. You’ve done your share.” Ben thought if Joel and Allie had some time alone, it might do them good, and with any luck, they’d return in a better mood.

Ben put his hand on Brad’s shoulder and guided him toward Sandy and Emma, who were finishing dinner. “I was thinking, maybe tomorrow night, if we make camp early enough, you and I could set a trap and see if we can’t come up with some wild game for dinner?”

Brad’s face lit up. “Ooh, that’d be pretty sick if we could actually catch something. Maybe a rabbit or a squirrel or something like that?”

“Yeah,” Ben said. Brad’s choice of words caused a smile to creep across his face, but the grin was mostly due to his youngest’s contagious excitement. “We’ll use one of those traps I showed you how to set. Do you remember any of those?”

Brad squinted, deep in thought. “Like a spring snare.”

“Exactly. You always were my favorite child,” Ben joked, making sure Emma heard what he’d said, then laughed out loud.

“Real nice, Dad.” Emma turned with a plate of food in her hand and a sarcastic look on her face. “Maybe I should give this to the dogs,” she shot back.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on your dad.” Sandy chuckled and joined the ribbing. “He’s taken a few blows to the head recently. He’s doing the best he can for an old guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben grumbled and rubbed at several days’ worth of growth on his face, remembering that most of his beard came in gray these days.

He certainly felt old in the moment, although that was on account of the lack of sleep and the day they’d had. But the truth was that Sandy’s assessment, although a joke, was closer to the truth than he wanted to admit. Ben tried to think of a witty comeback but opted instead to thank his daughter with a kiss on the forehead and graciously accept his dinner.

It was good to see the kids, and Sandy, were in good spirits, in spite of the late hour and long day. There was no explanation for the sudden high morale other than they’d survived to see another sunset, had a hot plate of food in front of them, and were all overtired. But at this point, wasn’t outwitting another demanding day reason enough to find some joy in their arduous lives? The longer Ben reflected on their circumstances, the more he was thankful for, mostly thanks to the people sitting close by.

A few minutes later, Joel and Allie appeared from over the bank to a scene of relative quiet as the others shoveled dinner into their mouths.

“Thanks for waiting,” Joel protested, louder than necessary.

“Sorry, but we were starving,” Brad answered.

“Yours is ready.” Emma pointed out two plates atop a nearby duffle bag being watched carefully by Sam.

“Oh, great.” Allie set down the Nalgenes and made her way toward the food.

Joel made sure to grunt as he carried the full five-gallon container to the back of the Blazer and strapped it down. Then he stowed the filter before joining them for dinner.

“Thanks.” Joel glanced at Sandy, then went back to eating large spoonfuls of rice and vegetables.

The mood took on a more serious note with the addition of Joel and Allie as they finished dinner and digested the much-needed sustenance. Joel eventually came around, and the bad attitude disappeared in pace with the food on his plate. Ben couldn’t blame the kid for being less than chipper. They should have stopped to eat something earlier rather than pushing their physical limits, but it just wasn’t in the cards today. The lack of adequate drinking water had also taken its toll on all of them, a situation Ben was determined to avoid tomorrow, if at all possible.

“Well, guys…” Ben stood up and made his way around, offering to collect empty plates and dirty utensils. “I suggest we all get to bed and rest up for tomorrow. It’s going to be an early morning and a long day.” He paused, anticipating an onslaught of sighs and eye rolls, but he didn’t hear or see either.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he always thought it better to let everyone know the plan ahead of time. The last thing he wanted was Joel and Brad slipping out of camp at first light to sneak in a little fly fishing. Having to wait for the boys to return in the morning was not how Ben pictured starting the day tomorrow.

Normally, Ben would have welcomed the chance of fresh fish for breakfast. But since they were practically camping blind when it came to being aware of what was in their immediate vicinity, that wouldn’t be prudent. Getting into the site so late had put them in an awkward position, making it impossible to get a good feel for their surroundings. He had no idea what they’d be waking up to. But it would be beyond foolish to expect an uneventful morning. They needed to be prepared for anything, including the possibility that they might have to bug out come sunrise.

One by one, the others got up and retired to their tents. Allie used one of the dog towels to dry off Gunner and Sam thoroughly before allowing them further access to the tents. Ben was hoping Gunner would assume his post outside for security purposes but didn’t have the heart to discourage the dog from joining Allie in her bivy. Sam found Brad’s tent and joined him after realizing Emma was already sharing hers with Bajer.

Ben volunteered to clean up the pot, plates, and utensils from dinner and gathered everything he would need to get it done down by the river in one trip.

“Let me help you.” Sandy came to his aid as he struggled to balance an awkward assortment of items in his arms.

“Thanks. You can get to bed, though, if you want. I can manage this. You did most of the driving today, and I know you’re tired,” Ben reasoned.

“I don’t mind. Unless you don’t want company?” Sandy pulled back.

“No, no.” Ben smiled. “The opposite, honestly, if you’re up for it.”

Sandy smiled back and took the cleaning supplies from him. There were times when Ben needed space and a little quiet to think, but he’d done enough of that today. And every now and then, it was good to get feedback from the only other adult in the group, without the kids around. He and Sandy weren’t intentionally hiding anything from the others, not that it was even really possible, but out of habit, Ben still found himself holding back when the younger two were around.

Ben and Sandy walked down to the water’s edge without saying a word until they were out of earshot of camp.

“Rough day, huh?” Sandy crouched down and filled the main cooking pot with water that looked much dirtier in the red light of her headlamp than Ben hoped it was.

“That’s an understatement. Unfortunately, I think it’s actually starting to feel normal,” Ben admitted.

“I still find all this hard to believe. I know it’s real, but there’s a part of me that refuses to accept that this is what our lives have become. Like I’ll wake up in the morning and find out it’s all been a bad dream… But I know better.” Sandy dropped her head and sat back on a large rock, letting the pot soak off some of the burned rice stuck to the bottom. “I guess I had the heat up too high. I was trying to cook too fast.” She forced a smile, but her quivering lips betrayed her worry.

Ben set the rest of the items down and sat next to her on the rock. He hesitated for a moment, then put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She leaned into him and lay her head in the crook of his neck, and he felt her tears against his dry skin. He wasn’t the only one doing his best to keep it together in the kids’ presence. This life was hard on all of them in different ways. Perhaps the hardest part was maintaining a positive attitude.

“I’m sorry. Look at me crying over dirty dishes.” She raised her head from his shoulder and laughed while wiping her tear-streaked face with the dish towel.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay. You’ll see.” Ben looked Sandy in the eyes and promised her something he knew he had no business promising. But that was all right because she knew it, too, and it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that she knew he was going to be there for her, and for the kids, no matter what.

Ben tried to think of something more encouraging or meaningful to say, but he was at a loss as they stared at each other in a quiet moment, nothing but the soft splashes of the river filling the silence. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart, or was it his?

Before he was fully aware of what was happening, her warm lips pressed against his, and he found himself unable to pull away, nor did he want to. Their embrace lasted several seconds, and when she finally pulled back, Ben was left riding a wave of emotions he’d long forsaken.

Sandy was a beautiful woman, even with a day’s worth of dust and grime clinging to her. Smudges of dirt interrupted by streaks of clean skin from her recent tears seemed to highlight her bluish-green eyes. Somehow, the roughness of her appearance only made her more attractive, like a badge of honor signifying all they’d been through together.

“I’m sorr—” Sandy started to apologize, but Ben put his finger over her lips.

“No.” He slid his finger away from her mouth and kissed her back. The two embraced after the kiss, ending the moment of passion with a tight grip on each other that must have lasted a couple of minutes or more.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now,” Sandy confessed.

“Me too, I guess.” Ben couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“What do we tell the kids?” Sandy shrugged.

Ben’s excitement was quickly put in check by a sense of guilt over what had just happened. The kids.

What did this mean? How would Joel and Allie react?

“I don’t know. Nothing for now. Maybe?” Ben wasn’t sure what to think, let alone what to tell the kids about what had just happened. “Making some kind of announcement might make it awkward.”

“I agree. Let’s just let it happen organically.” Sandy winked and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned to deal with the dirty pot.

Ben found solace in Sandy’s response, mostly because it meant he didn’t have to decide anything right now. His fondness for Sandy was undeniable; however, he recognized the importance of being respectful toward Joel and Allie’s developing relationship—that was only fair. Given that his children had just lost their mother, Ben was hesitant to flaunt anything in front of them. It was understandable that they might find the situation a bit peculiar. Nevertheless, what he and Sandy had just experienced felt anything but inappropriate.

27

A hint of light filtered through the thin nylon outer shell of Ben’s bivy, prompting him to go ahead and get up, although he could have sworn he’d just lain down a few minutes ago. After cleaning up from dinner last night and spending a little time with Sandy down by the river, he’d had a tough time falling asleep back in his tent. No matter how hard he tried, Ben couldn’t seem to stop the constant stream of thoughts flooding his mind. Some of them were good, some of them bad, but overall, he was left with a renewed sense of responsibility to get everyone home safely.

He knew he’d suffer for his inability to sleep last night, and now it was time to pay the piper. Coffee was what he needed, and making some was his first priority, as long as there were no overly compelling reasons to focus instead on breaking camp. Ben had no idea what he’d find outside his tent flap, but judging by the stillness and quiet of the early morning, he had high hopes.

But it wasn’t just the late bedtime that had him in a mental fog. He’d been up for the most part since about three this morning when a vehicle passed overhead on the bridge. He listened as the exhaust note faded into the distance, fairly certain that whoever it was had no intention of stopping. However, he found it hard to get back to sleep after the incident.

Ben pulled on his last boot and laced it up before tucking the Glock into its concealed holster at the small of his back. Trying his best to make as little noise as possible, he pushed the zipper around the doorframe and crawled out into the cool, dim morning. He stood still for a moment, listening to see if he’d been quiet enough to avoid detection by Gunner or one of the other dogs, although Sam was his only other real concern. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall ever hearing Bajer bark. The only noises he could pin on the small gray dog were her pig-like grunts when she was overly excited from attention or offered food.

Ben stumbled to the stove and fired up the gas-powered appliance, thankful he’d taken the time to prep for coffee production last night. Sandy was still asleep in her tent, and as Ben waited for the life-giving black liquid to brew, he wondered if he’d dreamt the intimate moment with Sandy. But he knew better, and the fear that they’d created an awkward situation soon returned. He was overthinking things, though, wasn’t he? He usually did.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Ben found a rock halfway between camp and the river and sat down. He was still foggy-eyed, but the expeditious onset of dawn and the cooler air made it possible to appreciate the morning for what it was. He pulled off the headlamp and ran a hand through his hair, listening to the waking birds and the rhythm of the flowing water. Unlike most of the countryside they were traveling through, there was no shortage of water here to nourish the plants and animals that called the river home.

As the amount of natural light increased and the caffeine cleared the cobwebs from his head, Ben mustered the energy to get up and wandered closer to the water’s edge, inspecting the clarity of the river. It was brown water, like what they’d encountered at most of the places they stopped, but otherwise, it looked clean by Midwest standards. At least they’d be leaving here with all the water they could carry. They would need fuel soon after breaking camp, and considering the less-than-half-full gas tank in the Blazer, Ben imagined they’d have to find a place to stop within an hour or so after pulling onto the interstate. But that was a minor concern, and it paled in comparison to his worries about heading into dryer areas.

Ben had marked the atlas with various points along the journey where they could potentially replenish their water supply, but when it came to water resources, the most challenging stretch lay ahead. To say they needed to be conservative with water usage today was an understatement. And a challenging expectation if the prevailing high temperatures persisted. However, Ben remained optimistic that the cooler morning air might endure. At the very least, it indicated a potential shift to a more favorable climate as they approached the Rocky Mountains.

He heard the jingle of Gunner’s tags before the big brown dog crested the riverbank to greet him. Sandy was several paces behind Gunner, with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Good morning. This is a welcome change.” Sandy held her hand out in the air.

“Good morning. It actually feels nice for a change,” Ben replied.

Sandy joined him at the water’s edge and sipped from her cup. “Kids are moving. Allie and Joel are making more coffee and seem to be in high spirits. I told them all to go ahead and get packed up before starting on breakfast, though.”

“Great. Thanks.” Ben felt the tension in the air and wasn’t sure if it was real or self-induced.

Sandy cast a quick glance back at their camp, then proceeded to plant a swift peck on Ben’s cheek. But their moment was abruptly interrupted as Sam barreled over the embankment, startling them both. Laughter ensued, and they both let out sighs of relief. Ben felt the tension he had been harboring dissipate, realizing in that instant that his worries were unfounded. Sandy was low-key, as the kids would put it, but that came as no surprise, really. The character trait was one of her many attributes he found attractive.

Ben wanted to kiss her back, but Brad’s arrival changed his plans.

“Morning. Are we trying to leave here soon or do we have time to fish?” Brad kicked a rock in his path.

“We really should get on the road. Tonight, maybe. If we have a decent day,” Ben added.

Brad looked disappointed but also like he’d got the answer he expected. With no reply or argument, Ben’s youngest shrugged and turned back toward camp.

“Don’t forget, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to fish when we get home. In fact, I’m counting on it,” Ben added.

“Yeah, I know.” Brad didn’t stop or bother turning around.

“I feel bad for the kid.” Ben shook his head. “Not like I have a choice. We really do need to get moving before any locals show up. There’s plenty of tire tracks around here. We’re not the only ones using this place.”

“He’s a sweet kid. It’ll all be worth it when we get home. And he knows you’re doing what’s best for him. For all of us.” Sandy squeezed his hand and smiled.

“Thanks.” Ben downed the last of his coffee and squeezed her hand back. “Well, should we go give the kids a hand?”

“I guess we should.” Sandy finished her coffee and led the way.

Back at camp, Ben saw that the kids had followed Sandy’s instructions and had all their gear, including his tent and Sandy’s, bagged and stacked by the trucks. Allie and Joel were standing over the stove, adding apple slices to a pot of oatmeal, while Brad and Emma played with the dogs. Emma had made it part of her morning routine to tire the dogs out as best she could with an old tennis ball Sam had brought with her from Jack’s. Tired dogs made for somewhat peaceful travel and gave Emma the upper hand when it came to claiming her spot on the Blazer’s back seat.

Breakfast was simple, and they ate quickly. Ben was worried that the others would want to linger here by the river for a while, but that wasn’t the case. Being this close to home was a great motivator, and the others seemed equally anxious to get back on the road. Ben and Sandy packed up the trucks while the kids topped off their water reserves and replaced what little of the precious resource they’d used this morning while cleaning up, making breakfast, or brewing coffee. Ben reminded them to let the dogs drink their fill as well before they left. That hadn’t worked out so well last time, but the road ahead would be hot and dry, so the choice was a gamble. But there was no telling when the next opportunity for a limitless supply of water would present itself.

Ben approached the Jeep as Joel sat behind the wheel with the engine idling. “What do you have left in the tank?”

“About half,” Joel answered.

Ben stooped down and eyed the ground under the gas tank patch. “Still holding. Good. Let’s try to make it past Topeka before we stop. I think that’s doable?” He reached into the Scrambler, giving Gunner a rub on his head, then did the same to Brad playfully.

“Dad,” Brad protested.

“Sounds good.” Joel pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes as the rising sun crested the bridge railing, pushing back the thin margin of shade they were enjoying.

Ben started for the Blazer but stopped and placed his hand on Joel’s arm. “I’m proud of you, Joel. Both of you.” His eyes cut toward Allie, then back to Joel. “Couldn’t do this without you.”

“Thanks.” Joel fought off a grin.

Allie nodded and smiled at Ben. “Thanks.”

Under the sudden assault of the sun’s scorching rays, Ben felt the remnants of the semi-cool morning vanishing impossibly fast. It served as an immediate and harsh reminder of the challenging conditions that awaited them today.

Ben took his place behind the wheel of the Blazer, joining Sandy, Emma, and the eager dogs already in position. With a wave, he signaled Joel to lead the way, following the Jeep across the uneven terrain.

The vast, dusty fields stretched out before them, revealing failed crops as far as the eye could see. This expansive desolation stood in contrast to the comparatively lush oasis of their campsite. In spite of their barren and brown surroundings, Ben was feeling good about their start. It was far too early to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. Breaking camp and knocking out the morning’s chores had gone smoother than he’d anticipated. And most importantly, they’d done it all without interference from outside forces, which was always a plus.

Over the train tracks and up onto the westbound ramp to I-70, they soon found themselves cruising down the highway at respectable speeds. The burned-out wrecks that littered the interstate almost passed without notice. No longer of interest, the soot-covered shells of abandoned vehicles almost seemed like they belonged or, at the very least, were expected. Ben gave a three-car pileup plenty of room as he drove around the accident, avoiding a scattered mess of broken parts and glass fragments, temporarily giving them a clear view of the path ahead.

The highway stretched out before them, straight and featureless yet full of uncertainty. This morning, though, he found hope in that uncertainty, and with each wreck passed or mile marker checked off, the satisfaction that they were making their way home dulled the feelings of dread that usually overshadowed his ambitions at the start of a new day on the road.

28

Making their way around Topeka, Kansas, had been as uneventful as they could have hoped for. Other than spotting several people searching the ruins of the city for anything of value, Ben and the others encountered no one. Ben hadn’t expected to pass through without incident, but that was part of the reason they hadn’t stopped for gas in Topeka, although they couldn’t hold out for fuel much longer.

They still had plenty of water from their filtering efforts at camp last night and this morning, although they weren’t into the true heat of the day just yet. At the risk of being overly cautious, Ben had anticipated stopping at every and any place that offered them a chance to top off their reserves—within reason, of course. His primary goal, as always, remained burning through as many miles as possible, but he knew what lay ahead.

After Topeka, the Kansas River veered north, snaking away from the westbound interstate, leaving them miles from a reliable water source. The muddy waters of the river would eventually cut to the south and cross their path once more near Junction City as a smaller tributary, labeled the Smokey Hill River on his atlas.

If these weather conditions persisted, they’d have to carefully plan water stops with the same diligence as their fuel stops. And there was no reason to believe there was any relief in sight from the drought. Ben didn’t put a lot of hope in the smaller tributaries holding up to the severe weather. He’d noticed the receding water levels at their last couple of stops, and he only expected to see more of the same as they moved west.

Ben checked the rearview mirror. He was still having a tough time believing they’d slipped away from camp this morning without any trouble. That was exactly how yesterday started, and the day had become a nightmare. He was doing his best not to overthink their situation, but at this point, he expected trouble around every bend in the road. And whenever they went for any discernable length of time without running into an obstacle or group of people who meant them harm, he couldn’t help but grow increasingly suspect with each passing mile.

One positive attribute about this part of the country for their purposes was the vast expanses of flat, open spaces, which allowed them to see for miles in every direction at times. Their visibility would improve with time, at least until they hit the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, although that was little consolation when weighed against the harsh conditions they faced. The sparse, mostly dead agricultural landscape also lacked opportunities for shade.

They’d seen fewer and fewer stands of tall trees along the roadway, and although the sporadic clusters of forest didn’t provide much reprieve from the sun thanks to their dying foliage, the brief spots of shade helped alleviate the sense that they were being cooked alive. Ben couldn’t imagine how discouraging things would be without the thermal paint coating the vehicles’ roofs and hoods.

Ben noticed Emma taking a big drink from her half-full Nalgene. They’d slipped into a bad habit when it came to staying hydrated: drinking the water when it was still relatively cool from being freshly filtered at the source. Wrapping the bottles in towels helped insulate the durable Lexan containers from the unrelenting heat, but no matter what measures they tried, they were left with warm, sometimes downright hot water within a couple of hours after topping off their supply.

They all knew this situation was unavoidable and anticipated the degradation of their drinking water, which in turn prompted them to drink heavily at the start of each day and get as much water in as they could before it became unpalatable. That wasn’t a bad practice in harsh conditions, and so far, it had kept them well-hydrated for the most part. But with places to gather water growing scarcer by the mile, their habits would have to change if the water they could carry was going to last between stops.

Ben cringed as Emma emptied the remains of her container into a bowl for Bajer and Sam. The dogs took turns lapping up the finite resource in a matter of seconds, with Sam licking the bowl dry until she was convinced it had nothing more to give.

“We’re going to need to be careful with the water, Em. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to find more,” Ben reminded his daughter.

“I know, but they’re thirsty,” she argued.

“I know. We all are. Just try and limit what you give them. Okay? They’ll be all right,” Ben added.

“Okay,” Emma agreed with a sigh.

Sandy held up the map and pointed to a location near Junction City that Ben had already circled with a pencil. “Water? But gas first, I guess, somewhere around here, maybe. We must be running low by now.”

“Yeah, I’ve been looking for a place since Topeka.” Ben lifted his hand and eyed the Blazer’s fuel gauge. It had just recently ticked below the quarter-tank mark. “But I’m worried about the water. Have you noticed levels have been getting progressively lower the farther west we travel?”

“I noticed the exposed sandbars at the river this morning. You could tell it’s normally much higher, but there hasn’t been much rain, and when we do get it, it’s all at once and done.” Sandy stared out the window as they passed a field consisting of row upon row of dead corn plants.

Ben considered the landscape to be barren and desolate a few days ago, but what they were witnessing outside their windows made the previously seen browns and pale greens of overgrown vegetation choking the roadside seem lush. Due to the drought conditions, the weeds here had failed to take advantage of the absent road maintenance crews and were struggling to reach past knee-high. That boded well for reading signs and highway markers but not for finding water. He doubted anything had grown more than a few inches since they passed through here on their way to Maryland.

“Come in, guys. What town were we stopping in again? Brad spilled water on the paper you gave me—” Joel was interrupted by his brother.

“It was an accident,” Brad interjected.

“Over,” Joel finished, his frustration with Brad evident.

But all Ben heard was “spilled water.” Today was not the day for that, accident or not.

He tried not to think about how much water Brad had spilled and replied, ignoring the boys’ argument, “Junction City, but we need fuel first and soon. What’s your level? Over.”

“We’re still looking pretty good somehow. Still above a quarter tank,” Joel answered.

Ben held the radio by his face but didn’t answer right away. That didn’t make any sense. The Jeep had gone from losing fuel to making it somehow. Impossible. Something was wrong.

“That’s not right. You should be close to empty by now. We are. Over,” Ben replied, locking eyes with Sandy as the two shared a confused look.

“Uh, well, now we’re almost empty after tapping the gauge. I guess it was stuck. Over,” Joel reported.

Ben let out a sigh as his anxiety returned. They needed to find a place fast. For all he knew, the Scrambler’s gauge was still broken, and the Jeep might not even have what the gauge was reading currently. He regretted not stopping before Topeka now, but he’d been so determined to make up for lost time that he’d decided they could wait. Pushing the envelope when it came to fuel was foolish, a lesson he should have learned by now.

“Come in. The next gas station you see, stop. Unless it looks really bad. Over,” Ben instructed.

Sucking fuel from the bottom of an antique Scrambler’s tank was not a good idea, and they needed to find gas before this developed into a bigger, more serious problem. The Jeep could get them home without a fuel gauge, but not without an engine. The empty jerry cans only made the situation more dire.

Several miles passed with everyone on the edge of their seats as they probed the horizon for any signs of a gas station. Eventually, Joel reported that they’d spotted the remains of a QuikTrip convenience store and gas station on the opposite side of the highway. Ben instructed Joel to lead the way and proceeded to follow the Jeep through the median and across the eastbound lanes, where they turned into the deceleration lane leading to the gas station. In the parking lot, they made the customary lap around the place, looking for anything suspicious, but they saw nothing.

Ben was more interested in the nearby structures than he was worried about possible dangers from within the ravaged shell of the gas station. Most of the roof was missing. The charred truss had somehow survived and looked to be hanging on by a thread, making the place a deathtrap for anyone desperate enough to venture inside. Ben imagined the whole thing would come crashing down with the next decent breeze.

On the second time around the parking lot, Joel headed for the fuel tank risers poking out of the asphalt toward the back of the lot. Ben watched the Jeep slowly roll to a stop several yards from where they needed to park to extract gas from the tanks, and he could tell something was wrong.

Joel raised both hands above the roll bar, clearly frustrated about something. “I think we’re out,” he shouted loud enough for Ben to hear him over the Blazer’s exhaust.

Ben inched up to the rear of the Scrambler. “Stay put and put it in neutral.”

Ben maneuvered the Blazer’s push bar against the Scrambler’s rear-mounted tire gently and began to push. The Jeep started rolling, and as soon as they had enough momentum, Ben let off the gas and watched the kids coast the rest of the way. He parked alongside them and turned the Chevy off. Ben would have sought shade while Joel and Allie fueled up, but there was none. This place had lost its fuel island canopy to a runaway eighteen-wheeler that leveled the structure, leaving a crumpled mess of metal scraps that resembled discarded aluminum foil. The truck wound up half buried in the car wash at the opposite corner of the lot.

“I think I’m just going to stay in the truck unless you need me. I don’t think the dogs care about getting out here, either,” Emma announced.

Ben nodded. “That’s fine. We won’t be long anyway.”

Emma’s decision to stay put came as a relief to Ben. He didn’t like being forced to make a pit stop like this, but they’d do what they needed to and move on quickly, especially if there weren’t any rambunctious dogs to round up. Ben grabbed his M24 and his newly acquired, heavily modified AR-15, laying the M24 across the hood of the Blazer for quick access and shouldering the AR. Sandy followed suit and brought her AR-15 out with her as well. She recognized the less-than-ideal conditions, too, and shot Ben a look as she slid out of the truck. Ben was glad to see they were on the same page. Since last night, he’d felt a paradigm shift in their communication, as if, somehow, they were now enjoying an unspoken yet clear ability to connect on another level.

This wouldn’t have been his first pick of places to stop, but with the Jeep running out of gas, they really had no choice in the matter. He just hoped they hadn’t done any damage to the Scrambler in the process of pulling fuel from the bottom of the tank. Joel and Allie were already out of the truck and had the underground tank riser unlocked when Ben and Sandy joined them with the pumping equipment.

“I guess we got lucky, huh?” Allie wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and forced a nervous smile.

“We’ll see. Hopefully you didn’t suck anything off the bottom of the tank.” Ben fed the hose into the riser pipe while Joel readied the pump at the other end.

“I thought Grandpa had a new tank put in?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, but that was a while ago, before Brad was born, I think.” Ben couldn’t remember exactly when Jack had the restoration done, but they’d find out soon enough if they had a bigger problem on their hands.

Brad opted to stay in the truck as well, hiding under the Scrambler’s soft top with Gunner, trying his best to find shelter from the sunlight. Ben was jealous of the two and threw a damp rag over the back of his neck, blocking the searing rays of sun that felt like they were giving him an instant sunburn.

“I had high hopes for cooler weather this morning, but I see that’s not going to happen,” Sandy noted.

“If anything, I’d say we might be looking at a new record if this keeps up.” Ben glanced skyward and adjusted his sunglasses.

It wasn’t even noon yet, and the bare metal of the vehicles not covered in the white rubber-like thermal coating was already too hot to touch bare-handed. He hated to even entertain the thought, but they might have to consider pulling over somewhere midday and sitting out the worst of the heat. Of course, they’d have to find a shaded spot to do that. Maybe at the river crossing in Junction City, if the spot wasn’t overrun with lunatics or murderous bikers. The torturesome heat was plenty dangerous, but finding respite from the sun could prove just as risky. There was no easy decision to be made, only a hard one.

29

Fueling up both vehicles and the two jerry cans went unexpectedly well. It didn’t take them very long to get the job done in spite of the ever-increasing temperature and copious amounts of sweat produced by operating the hand-powered pump. But then again, at this point, there wasn’t a single one of them that couldn’t perform the task blindfolded when there were no outside interferences to contend with.

Ben and the others took turns keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, but it soon became obvious they were the only ones crazy enough to be outdoors at the onset of the hottest part of the day. He found himself almost wishing for the return of the strange, yellowish smog that threatened to choke the atmosphere at the beginning of their trip. Although the EMPs were no doubt a direct cause of what they were experiencing with the record-setting temperatures, how or why remained a mystery, one Ben might never solve.

Sam let out a frustrated groan and sank down onto her haunches as she watched them stow the fueling gear and top off their water bottles from the five-gallon container.

“How are you doing in there?” Ben glanced at Emma through the Blazer’s back window while strapping down the Jerry cans.

“I’m fine as long as we can get moving again soon.” Emma raised her voice to compete with Sam and Bajer, who were both panting loudly.

Ben nodded. “I know I said we needed to conserve water, but maybe you should drink a little now.”

Emma’s face was flush and suspiciously sweat-free considering she’d been sitting still inside a metal box in the sun. He recalled Allie’s episode behind the wheel of the Toyota. Cutting it close on water would be the least of their concerns if he or one of the others suffered from heat stroke. Emma nodded and found a Nalgene right away, taking several large gulps of water as the dogs looked on in envy.

Emma made a face. “Don’t be too jealous. It’s hot.”

“Better give them some, too,” Ben said.

Emma handed Ben the dogs’ water bowl, and he filled it from the big container before giving it back. He stepped aside so Joel and Allie could finish refilling their Nalgenes as well, then headed back to their vehicle.

The sound of the Jeep starting was encouraging, and Ben left Sandy with the last two containers to fill and went to stand near the hood and listen while Joel and Allie got situated in the vehicle.

“I think we’re good to go.” Ben couldn’t believe their luck.

“Junction City, here we come.” Allie feigned excitement over their latest destination.

“Right behind you.” Ben started for the Blazer, anxious to get back on the road.

As soon as Sandy finished topping off their Nalgenes, she climbed back into the truck and buckled up. “Should we stop somewhere and wait this out? It’s not even noon yet, and it’s almost unbearable.” She dried the sweat from her face and neck with a towel.

“We might have to. I’ve been thinking the same thing, but I’d like to try and make the next river crossing first.” Stopping to avoid the hottest part of the day was not on Ben’s itinerary, but it was time to concede that it might be unavoidable.

Back on the road, the hot, dry air blasting in the open windows and side vent felt better than standing still in the blazing sun but only provided minimal relief. Unfortunately, the landscape between Topeka and Junction City left much to be desired in the entertainment department. Ben didn’t expect much, but the monotonously dull, straight stretch of highway was practically featureless, save for the rolling, expansive brown fields of dead land.

It took over two impossibly long hours to chew through the seventy-plus-mile gap separating the most recent fuel stop and their aspirations for drinking water. By the time they’d reached the outskirts of Junction City, Ben speculated that the temperature was soaring well above a hundred degrees. The air was also noticeably dryer, which only added to their misery. Their bodies were rapidly losing water, each droplet of sweat evaporating almost instantly. The absence of moisture on his skin transformed the semi-refreshing wind streaming through the Blazer into a scorching blast reminiscent of the heat he felt while loading a roaring woodstove.

“Come in. We must be getting close to the river. Over,” Allie reported over the radio.

“Copy that. Why don’t you let us take the lead for now? I want to cross the bridge first. We’ll access water from the west side. Over,” Ben responded.

“Sounds good. Over,” Allie replied.

Joel stuck his arm up over the roll bar and waved them on.

Ben didn’t need the heads-up from Allie to know they were drawing close to the river. He could tell they were close to water thanks to the sudden appearance of somewhat healthy-looking trees and vivid green foliage that stuck out among their otherwise dead and dying surroundings. Joel slowed the Scrambler and moved to the right, allowing Ben to pull ahead of him. Ben wanted to be first over the bridge, determined to scout the place out a little and get a look below before committing to a stop here. If he saw anything he didn’t like, they’d move on without hesitation, regardless of the water situation. At another potential spot up ahead, the highway didn’t cross water but nearly intersected it where the river made a sharp but brief curve toward the interstate.

But first things first, Ben had to make sure there wasn’t anything blocking their way over the bridge. That was always a concern. Just because they’d crossed in a certain place on the way east didn’t mean a viable route still existed.

“Looks clear to me.” Sandy leaned forward, eyes scouring the bridge ahead.

“Great, now let’s see if it’s clear below.” Ben took his foot off the gas and let the Blazer coast around an abandoned car wedged into the guardrail.

He stopped the truck near the halfway point toward the far side of the westbound lanes so they couldn’t be spotted from below and left the engine running. “Stay put for now. Over.” Ben let the others know his plans. He didn’t want a repeat of the last bridge crossing.

If there were people down by the water, he wanted to be ready to keep moving before any potential threats had a chance to react to their presence. This was to be their method for the rest of the trip. It was time to start treating their water stops with the same level of circumspection as their fuel stops.

Investigating the immediate area for danger before making plans or unloading gear was something they should have started practicing long ago. They’d gotten into trouble one too many times to continue being so casual about where and when they stopped. Although they had less control over when they stopped, depending on the fuel and water situation, they needed to get better at planning ahead.

Unlike in other parts of the country, the flat contours of the land here allowed the bridge to cross the Smoky Hill River at a much lower height than at previous places, putting them no more than a hundred feet above the watershed. Ben hadn’t even made it to the concrete guardrail before he heard voices from below. He crept the last couple of feet to the edge and peered over cautiously. The scene was not unlike the encampment they’d encountered yesterday near Kansas City, but from what he could see, this one was larger. And although there were very few tents dotting the river’s banks, there were quite a few makeshift shelters scattered among the weeds and shade-providing trees. The scrap wood, cardboard, and multicolored tarp-covered shanties littered the shoreline like a patchwork quilt weaving its way under the bridge and disappearing into the shadows below.

Ben imagined if he checked the other side, he’d see the same thing. There was no telling how many campers were down there, walking among the shanties and through the well-worn trails that snaked through the undergrowth. There was also no way of knowing how he and the others would be received if they chose to make their presence known by going down for water. His guess was that it wouldn’t be received well, and that was a based assumption, even though the place looked established to the point of possible credibility.

The encampment might be open to trading goods for access to the water. The place even had one of those fish-catching wheels set up in the river, the kind he’d seen used to harvest salmon during their run up in Alaska. But bartering for a natural resource like water felt wrong, and the whole thing seemed too dangerous.

It just wasn’t worth the risk.

Ben eased back from the guardrail onto his heels for a moment, balancing himself with the butt of his rifle as he tried to ignore the searing heat on his back.

They still had water. It was hot and unpleasant, but it would keep them hydrated as long as they could stomach it. And there was another place not much farther down the road. Fifteen or twenty minutes, he guessed. There’d be no bridge to hide under, leaving them to find shade among the trees if they could. But maybe that would make the place less desirable for others as well. He’d rather contend with a lack of decent shelter from the sun than spar with another unsavory group of miscreants over dirty brown water.

Ben’s thoughts were interrupted by the Scrambler coming to rest several yards away. He shuffled back from the rail before standing fully upright and walked over to the Jeep, shaking his head.

“Not here. There’s another encampment, bigger than the last one.”

“So what then?” Joel shrugged.

“There’s another spot not too far up ahead. Follow us.” Ben jogged to the Blazer, anxious to move on before anyone from the makeshift village below noticed them.

“We’re not stopping, I take it?” Sandy asked.

“If there were any more people living down there, they’d have to name the place. We can’t go down there for water. We’ll have a target on our backs with all this stuff.” Using the rearview mirror, Ben glanced at the pile of gear crammed into the back of the Blazer and caught the disappointed look on Emma’s face. “But there is another possibility just up the road a bit. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

His initial plan to hide their gear and supplies by blacking out the lower portion of the Blazer’s rear windows was well intended but no longer effective. With all the things they’d acquired along the way, there was no disguising the fact they were wealthy with goods. At times, Ben still had to shake his head in disbelief over the things they’d accumulated. He was expecting to return home with less, not more.

He had no complaints about the problem of being overpacked, although the extra weight ate into their fuel budget and affected the Chevy’s handling to some degree. The Scrambler was in the same predicament, loaded to the gills and more troublesome to handle than it should have been. Ben hadn’t been behind the wheel of Jack’s old Jeep, but he could tell by the way Joel and Allie took the curves that the Scrambler was maxed out. But that was no reason to give any of it up without cause.

They could have used a little more food, MREs specifically, but as far as guns and ammunition were concerned, they had the ability to wage their own little war if need be. There was definitely an inconvenience factor involved with carrying the extra hardware and ammunition, which by itself made up for most of the additional weight. But the confidence it gave them was more than enough compensation. And how well they’d be set up at the house in Durango was the icing on top.

Ben put the pedal down hard and got moving once they’d cleared the bridge. He picked up speed rapidly, pushing the Blazer upward of seventy miles per hour. They’d been averaging decent speeds so far today, but that was due to being out here in the middle of nowhere.

Ben wasn’t sure exactly what time of day the EMPs hit this part of the country, but if it was close to when he and Joel had experienced the attack, then it stood to reason the interstate was fairly deserted. Most of the wrecks they saw were trucks transporting goods from city to city, and they were large and easy to spot at a distance, giving Ben and the others plenty of warning to navigate around any upcoming hazards. He expected this was a trend that would continue as they struck deeper into the heart of Kansas. It was an aspect of the journey they had failed to appreciate on their way east, only because they had nothing to compare it to at the time.

The roads were much worse back east, but that made sense due to the increased population and density of major cities. The number of burned-out or abandoned vehicles increased exponentially as they ventured east, a detail that hadn’t slipped by unnoticed. The comparatively wide, open roadways here were a breath of fresh air, unlike the climate. Ben couldn’t help but crack a smile as he realized there was a very good chance they’d seen the worst of it when it came to the roads.

30

Ben leaned forward in his seat, straining to see through a windshield that desperately needed to be cleaned. “That’s it. That’s the exit we’re looking for. Can you let the others know?”

Sandy used the radio to contact the Scrambler and give the others a heads-up about the impending turn. Ben kept both hands on the wheel as he slowed the Chevy to a manageable speed and prepared to navigate the waist-high grassy median to cross the interstate and access the on-ramp from the other side. Traversing blindly, for the most part, through the tall, dead grass, risking a tire puncture on some unseen piece of debris, and heading the wrong way down the ramp wasn’t Ben’s first choice.

An overturned log truck and its spilled cargo were clogging the westbound exit ramp, the result of the driver’s failed attempt to avoid a car that now sat crushed under the truck’s cab with only the trunk exposed. The felled timber was strewn about like a box of spilled matchsticks, making the entire section of highway impassable. Whether they had intended to stop here for water or not, they would have had to circumnavigate this section of interstate littered with trees. It was as if the universe was punishing him for being optimistic about the chance for clearer road conditions.

“What a mess.” Emma glued herself to the window, staring at what must have been quite the spectacle at the time of its occurrence.

“I was just about to comment on how the roads have been getting better.” Sandy sighed. “At least it seemed that way.”

“They are, for the most part,” Ben stated. “Not much out here between where we are and home. And other than a few smaller towns, it should be pretty desolate all the way home from here. I’d say the worst is behind us.”

He instantly regretted making such a bold prediction. They had no idea what lay ahead. And just because an area was less densely populated or uninhabitable didn’t mean they could let their guards down. Ben was reminded of what happened to Allie not too far from here. Ben would never forget the fateful and almost tragic event at Daisy’s pit stop, where Allie was abducted right out from under their noses. He’d also never forget the sinking feeling in his gut when he thought they’d lost her for good. If only they’d have known that episode was only the beginning of their troubles. Then again, it was probably for the best they hadn’t.

Fewer people didn’t mean they were any safer than anywhere else, although Ben imagined that would gradually change as survivors gravitated toward reliable water sources, abandoning drought-stricken areas and turning them into uninhabited wastelands. Only the strong or crazy would occupy those places, both dangerous attributes. It took a certain breed to make it in a world full of harsh realities and an even tougher environment. The characteristics that made someone capable of eking out an existence on the road were the same qualities that made every person Ben encountered suspect.

He tucked the road atlas between the seat and the center console. He wouldn’t need it anymore. The southern side of the exit didn’t run much farther than half a mile, by the looks of things, before dead-ending at a row of highway barrels. Perhaps there were plans for the road to lead to someplace important at one point in time. Maybe the sparse population had failed to support the expansion. Another road construction project that would never be completed.

A long swath of flourishing green foliage ahead gave away the river’s drastic contours where it swung in toward the secondary road that ran parallel to the interstate. They’d need to push past the pavement and follow the overgrown path that was almost invisible except for two faint trails a vehicle’s tire width apart. Ben could only assume the trail led down to the river. It had probably been a popular fishing spot. He hoped not today.

Before leaving the paved surface, they crossed a set of train tracks and passed the remains of a VFW post on their left. The red plastic bottom half of the once-illuminated Coca-Cola-sponsored sign out front was melted and ran down the metal frame like hot wax. The American flag out front was battered and singed at the edges but steadfast as it fluttered against the stifling breeze. Ben stopped the Blazer and stared at the remains of post 8773. He felt compelled to do what he knew was right even though his inner voice told him to let it go. It didn’t really matter, did it? The state of the building almost guaranteed there was no one using it for shelter or lurking inside. The risk was minimal, and it would only take a few seconds to do what he wanted to do.

“Hang on.” Ben threw the truck in park and jumped out. He didn’t waste any time, and within seconds, he had his pocketknife out at the base of the flagpole. With a single stroke of his blade, he sliced through the line holding the flag in place and gathered the folds of material as they fell without letting any part of the flag touch the ground.

Brad leaped from the back of the Jeep under Joel’s direction and ran to Ben, helping fold the flag in a neat but efficient manner.

“Thanks, buddy.” Ben tucked the flag under his arm and followed Brad back to the Jeep.

Joel nodded as Ben passed the driver’s side of the vehicle and put his hand on his son’s arm. He’d dispose of the damaged flag later and properly when they had more time.

“All right, to the river,” Ben announced as he climbed back into the Blazer and put the truck in gear.

Sandy smiled and touched his hand for a moment, pulling away at the sound of Emma’s voice.

“Why’d you do that?” Emma asked.

“You shouldn’t fly a damaged flag. It’s disrespectful. It didn’t feel right leaving it like that. Some things still matter,” Ben added.

At the end of the pavement, he drove around the construction entrance barricades and followed the unfinished trail through a tall thicket of cottonwood trees that reminded him of home. He watched the Scrambler wobble over the uneven ground behind them. There was no worry of getting stuck here, however; the moisture-deprived ground looked to be as hard as concrete almost all the way to the water’s edge.

Ben brought the Chevy to a halt but left it running, then jumped out, brandishing his AR-15 instead of a knife this time.

“Wait here.” He carried his weapon at the ready and moved cautiously out onto the exposed riverbank, checking both up- and downstream as he cleared the tree line. They were alone. Finally, a spot where they could fill their water tank and Nalgenes and enjoy a little shade in the process. The cottonwoods provided adequate relief from the sun. Not as much as the cave-like conditions found at the base of a concrete overpass or bridge, but enough to be thankful for.

The water level here was well below the high-water mark at the top of the riverbank. The flow moved with the viscosity of a milkshake, it seemed, in some thinner sections. The water filter would be put to the test here, but they didn’t have the luxury of being picky. And the fact that they were alone made the place all the more attractive, despite the water quality. He didn’t see any pollutants, either, only the silt and debris that occurred naturally when a river was on the verge of drying out and dying. Just like this whole area if the weather didn’t change soon.

Ben hadn’t noticed the poor water quality from the last bridge they’d crossed, but then again, he was too concerned with being spotted at the time. There was certainly no chance of the boys asking to fish here.

“This might take a little while.” Allie stood at the edge of the heat-baked riverbank, the ground fractured with a thousand cracks from the searing sun.

Joel set the filtering equipment down and joined her. “I guess we better get started. Looks like we’ll have to clean the filter a couple times before we finish.”

Ben watched as the kids started what was sure to be a lengthy process thanks to the dirty water, but at least they had the ability to filter out the junk. Emma busied herself with the dogs, who didn’t seem to mind the quality of the water one bit. Gunner found himself a chest-deep pool to lie in, letting his tongue hang out so far that it almost touched the water. Sam was still favoring her injured leg but seemed happy to join Gunner in the muddy runoff all the same. Bajer stayed close to Emma, only braving the tepid slurry up to her belly as she drank her fill.

Ben remained vigilant and continued searching their immediate surroundings, making sure they were alone and staying ready to defend their position in case they weren’t. He wished this stop had fallen a little farther away from the large encampment upriver. The occasional piece of litter floating by reminded them all just how close they were to the ramshackle cluster of shanties under the nearby bridge. This was certainly far from what he’d pictured and a less-than-ideal place to stop, but it was an opportunity to resupply their water reserves nonetheless, and there was no telling when the next chance would present itself.

Satisfied they were truly alone, Ben took a minute to study the map. He didn’t need directions anymore, but he was interested in trying to figure out their remaining mileage. He figured they would stay on the interstate until Burlington, Colorado, or somewhere around there, then head south, picking their way through the secondary roads toward Alamosa. Ben knew the drive from there to Durango, and under normal circumstances, the trip over the mountains and back home should have taken around five or six hours, depending on the weather. Snow wouldn’t be a problem at this time of year, that was for sure. But it was a two-lane road for the most part, and a lot of the route contained tight switchbacks up, over, and back down the passes.

The RV he and Joel had helped over the edge and off the road near Pagosa Springs was the only blockage they’d encountered in the mountains, but that was over three weeks ago. Expecting the route to have remained clear might be a bit optimistic. Others were traveling out here, just like they were, and if there was ever a place for an accident, Ben thought that section of twisted highway was where they’d most likely encounter a blockage. It wouldn’t take much to shut down 160. The thin ribbon of blacktop snaked its way through the Rockies to Durango, running through some unforgiving areas and making it a prime location for mishaps.

But he was getting ahead of himself, as usual, although it was hard not to. And for once, his excitement was justified. They were so close now; it was hard to resist the temptation to throw caution to the wind and push through the rest of the trip quickly by driving all night, especially when the mountains held hope for relief from these hot, dry conditions.

Their current misery made the prospect of going for broke and pulling an all-nighter almost seem logical, although he knew otherwise. The distance alone made reaching Durango by means of one last push improbable. As much as he hated to admit it, they were still another day away, and that was if all went well. They had at least one more night sleeping under the stars in their future, no matter how close Durango looked on the map. This was a big country, and the roads leading home he so easily traced with his finger on the map were hard ones to drive.

31

Ben stowed the atlas in its usual spot by the Blazer’s center console and joined the others in the shade of the cottonwoods near the water’s edge. The kids were making decent progress filtering water, and as expected, Brad and Joel had turned the task into a contest, both trying to outlast the other on the hand pump. There wasn’t anything his boys couldn’t turn into a competition. At times, their bravado could be tiring, but Ben welcomed the display of one-upmanship today if it meant securing the water they needed quickly.

Things could change in the blink of an eye. They all knew that, and even though they planned on riding out the oppressive heat here for a little while, it was good to know they had the work done and were topped off with water. They still might have to leave in a hurry, but at least they had what they came for.

Joel and Allie stowed the water filter and accouterments while Brad scoured the bank for flat stones to skip across the dirty river. Emma was less ambitious than her younger brother, content to sit in the shade, surrounded by resting dogs while sketching something in her pad.

Ben joined Sandy on a fallen tree that had been washed up by some forgotten flood long ago. “A little less than six hundred miles if my math is right.”

“Wow, we’re really doing it, aren’t we? I mean, we’re gonna make it.” She flashed him a smile, but then it disappeared. “I knew we would all along, but now… now it’s real. When do you think we’ll actually get there?”

“Tomorrow afternoon at the latest. We’ve only got a few hundred miles left in Kansas, but they’re gonna be some tough ones. We’ll have to really conserve water for the next leg of the trip, no different from what we’ve been doing, really, at least until we reach the eastern slope. Then I expect things to get better. Weather-wise, that is,” Ben explained.

“It might be hard going, but maybe that will work in our favor. There probably won’t be many people to deal with?” Sandy speculated.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for, too. In these conditions, I’d like to think anyone we come across would be more interested in survival than starting trouble.” What Ben was saying sounded good, but he was under no illusion that what lay ahead would be easy.

“What was that? I saw someone.” Allie’s voice broke through the gentle trickle of silt-laden currents plashing along the rocky shoreline.

Ben jumped to his feet and readied his weapon. Sandy was right behind him as the two joined Joel and Allie at the Blazer’s rear bumper. Brad grabbed his shotgun and ran to be near the others while Emma started rounding up the dogs, anticipating a hurried exit from their muddy oasis.

“There, behind those bushes. I swear I saw something move.” Allie pointed to a clump of willows.

Ben raised his rifle to the ready position, and the others followed suit. He advanced on the dense cluster of vegetation, and then he saw something, too.

“Come out. We see you,” Ben called out, but there was no response other than the crunch of leaves and the rubbing of limbs.

“Out, now,” Ben demanded, louder this time.

A few seconds later, a woman emerged with a small child who couldn’t have been more than five or six.

“Please don’t hurt us. We’re not armed and don’t have anything of value.” She held the young girl close to her as the pair moved away from the trees and into the open.

Ben looked beyond the woman and child, checking to see if there were others with them. He found it hard to believe these two were on their own. “Just you two?”

“Yes, we’re from the camp upriver,” she replied.

Her answer didn’t give him any comfort. He knew they were pushing their luck by lingering in this spot for too long. They should have left as soon as they’d finished refilling their water reserves and found a shady spot elsewhere to wait out the midday heat. The others lowered their weapons but remained in a tight semicircle around the two strangers.

Ben eyed the two suspiciously, sizing them up for any possible threats. Just because the woman was old and the child was very young didn’t mean they were harmless. He’d seen firsthand the deadly results of trusting people who appeared harmless. And while he doubted these two had neither the physical fortitude nor the intentions to hurt him or his group, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. There was a good chance the woman and child were bait, although they looked more like two people on the run than anything else.

The awkward silence was broken by Sandy as Ben continued to search the nearby bushes and riverbank for more people. “Do you need something to drink?”

“Yes please. That would be appreciated,” the woman replied.

Sandy turned and nodded at Allie, who was already backstepping toward the truck. She pulled a Nalgene from the Jeep and slung her carbine over her shoulder as she walked the water to the woman. Ben remained steadfast, sizing the two up. The woman handed the girl the Nalgene first, letting her drink her fill before taking some for herself. They both gulped the water down as if it was the first drink they’d had in some time. Ben believed their story that they’d come from the camp, but why? Their tattered, soiled clothing almost matched the hard clay riverbank and suggested they’d been sleeping in the woods for several days.

Sandy approached Ben and put a hand on his rifle, urging him to lower it. Ben complied, a twinge of guilt washing over him for holding an old woman and young child at gunpoint.

Gunner and Sam whined, but Emma and Brad held their collars tightly, preventing them from investigating the newcomers. Bajer was content to stay back of her own accord, never one to seek out new people.

“We’re just trying to get away from the camp. We stopped at the bridge for water a few days ago… or maybe weeks. I’m not sure anymore, honestly. But those people there, at the camp. They… they…”

The woman was on the verge of tears and stopped talking, trying to gather the strength to finish what she was saying. She glanced down at her young companion, who hung on to a handful of the woman’s filthy clothing while doing her best to stay out of sight. The woman downed another gulp of water and wiped the excess from her mouth, exposing a sliver of clean skin. Ben thought maybe she wasn’t as old as she looked. Her gaunt, weathered face was an indicator of rough living and malnourishment rather than age.

She shook her head and forced an uneasy smile that failed to hide the pain in her eyes. “Well, let’s just say they aren’t anybody you want to meet.” She handed the water to the girl and urged her to drink more.

“Where are you headed?” Ben asked, still unconvinced this wasn’t part of some plan to throw him and the others off guard.

“Hayes, Kansas. We have family there. It’s not that far from here. I think about an hour or so by car.” She encouraged the girl to drink again. “This is my granddaughter, Harper. I’m Evelyn. We were headed to Kansas City to visit the zoo and the aquarium when the bombs went off. We’ve been hiding in the woods and following the river home since we got away a couple nights ago. I don’t think the roads are safe anymore, especially with them looking for us. It’ll take a while this way, but at least we have shade and water.”

“Hi. I’m Emma. This is Gunner, Sam, and Bajer. They’re all friendly so you don’t have to be scared.” Emma loosened her grip on Sam and let the dog hobble toward the strangers. Brad released Gunner as well, and Bajer followed.

Ben watched as his daughter and the others closed in on the woman and her granddaughter, introducing themselves one by one. He tried to think of a way to put the brakes on things without coming off as overly paranoid but couldn’t. Their story was believable enough. He did recognize the town of Hayes from his atlas; it was a speck of a town just off I-70.

A few weeks ago, he would have given them the benefit of the doubt based on their pitiful appearance alone, but not now. After what he’d witnessed from some of the most unsuspecting people he’d met, trust wasn’t given freely these days—it was earned.

“Ben.” Sandy gave him a look, and his guilt did the rest.

“Nice to meet you.” Ben nodded at Evelyn and the girl but kept his hands on his weapon, although it was now pointed at the ground. “You haven’t been drinking this water, have you?”

Evelyn had mentioned water as one of the reasons they were following the river. Ben hoped they weren’t actually drinking any of this thick, brown liquid gurgling by.

“No, we haven’t got that desperate yet, but I thought it a better option than nothing, considering the heat,” she answered.

“We have a filter.” Joel looked at the pair, then at his dad. “And a couple empty plastic water bottles we’ve been using to make the MRE drink mixes. We could let them have those.”

“We can also spare some food. When’s the last time you ate?” Sandy headed for the Blazer, which caused the girl to peek out from behind her grandmother’s leg, her face lighting up for the first time since their encounter.

Ben watched Sandy walk toward the trucks as Joel and Allie prepared to break out the water-filtering equipment and the extra bottles, anticipating the need for additional resources. If Evelyn and Harper were truly in need, and that did in fact appear to be the case, then he didn’t want to be responsible for denying them that help. He was proud of the others for stepping up, even if it was a little quick for his liking.

Ben’s gut told him the woman and child were no threat, not that they were physically capable of causing anyone harm. But at least he was fairly certain they weren’t working with anyone lurking in the bushes, waiting to take out him and the others before stealing their gear. But if their story was true, that meant people were looking for them. An even more compelling reason to move on from this spot as quickly as they could, record-setting heat wave or not.

32

Ben tidied up whatever gear he could find scattered around while Joel and Allie filled the spare water bottles for Evelyn and Harper. Emma and Brad did their best to entertain the young girl with the dogs, running through Gunner’s and Sam’s full routine of parlor tricks. Bajer subjected the pair to her own version of a welcome by burying her head in their legs and begging for scratches.

Sandy began to dig out the stove and a pot and prepared to make a meal on the lowered tailgate.

“How about something a little quicker? It’s not a good idea to stick around here, especially considering…” Ben didn’t speak their names but eyeballed the newcomers to the group. “We don’t know the situation. They look harmless enough, but either way, I’m sure the camp is looking for them. I’d like to not stick around and find out.”

“But what about sitting out the heat? It’s brutal out there.” Sandy’s gaze drifted toward the interstate through the trees.

“I know, I know. But—” Ben stopped speaking abruptly, freezing in place.

“What is it?” Sandy asked.

“Guys, quiet down. Listen,” Ben said in a hushed but stern tone, causing the others to freeze.

The buzz grew louder. He was right; he had heard something.

“Hear that?” Ben cupped a hand at his ear. “It’s an engine.”

“I hear it. It’s coming down the river,” Brad shouted, louder than Ben would have liked, but at least he knew the noise wasn’t in his head.

“Grab the gear and load up. We’re leaving now.” Ben grabbed the MP5 from the Blazer and slung it over his back, choosing to carry the AR-15 as his primary weapon while the kids launched into a fury of moving parts, loading dogs, breaking down the water-filtration setup, and stowing gear. Sandy tossed the stove back into the Blazer and slammed the tailgate shut. Ben turned to look at her, his lips pressed together.

She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get those dogs loaded up so we can get out of here.” Ben noticed Emma was having a hard time with Gunner, who’d decided to play a little game of keep-away with Sam’s tennis ball as she and Brad tried to coax the stubborn dog into the Jeep. Ben was tempted to raise his voice at the dog and force him to listen, but they’d already made too much noise.

“And what about them? We can’t just leave them here to fend for themselves… Right?” Sandy wasn’t really asking, and she was right.

“No.” Ben sighed. “I guess put them in the Blazer with us.”

Sandy nodded and went to help the kids with the dogs. This definitely wasn’t how Ben saw his day going. The idea of adding two more people to an already overloaded truck struck him as absurd, although there was no real alternative, none that he could stomach, at least. The girl and her grandmother had clearly been through enough already. If they were recaptured, they might not live to see another day, judging by the look in Evelyn’s eyes when she choked up. As much as he hated to confess, Ben couldn’t allow that, even if it put the rest of them in danger.

He slid in behind the beached deadfall wedged into the riverbank and used the scope on his carbine to scout the river above their location. He didn’t have to wait long before he spotted the source of the noise. A small jon boat, not unlike the aluminum skiff Jack used for duck-hunting in the marshes, appeared from around a dry gravel bar sprouting several clumps of grass that had concealed the vessel until now.

There were two men on board the craft, and they were heading right for the cut in the river that Ben and the others had been using as a rest stop. The man on the tiller, sporting a ball cap and sunglasses, held an AR-15, muzzle up next to his leg. A second man up front lay in the prone position, carbine balanced on a bipod mounted to the lower handguard. The two were scouring the shoreline, undoubtably for the woman and child and most likely the source of the recent noises they’d heard.

Ben glanced over his shoulder to check on the progress the others were making. Gunner was finally in the Scrambler, but a whirlwind of activity in and around the Blazer reminded Ben just how crowded the truck was going to be. He checked back in with the approaching boat. Another twenty yards and the two men would be in a position to see the trucks tucked back in the shade of the trees. Thankfully, they’d parked the vehicles off the water far enough to remain in the tree line. Otherwise, Ben imagined he’d already be trading gunfire with the boat.

Ben held his crosshairs on the man lying across the jon boat’s bow. He was the biggest threat, and if this encounter ended in a fight, Ben would take him out first. He was about to check on the others to see if they were ready to pull out yet when Joel slid to a stop in the sand next to him, sending a shower of dirt and gravel over the top of the dead tree Ben was hiding behind.

“We’re ready to go. What’s the deal?” Joel huffed.

Ben remained silent, pointing to the incoming boat instead.

“She said they had a couple boats at the camp.” Joel laid his rifle over the log and looked at the men through his scope.

Ben had planned on slipping back to the truck unseen, but that might not be possible now that Joel had joined him here behind the log. He should have been more specific with his instructions and had the others wait at the trucks when they were ready. He’d only taken a position between the approaching boat and the trucks in a last-ditch effort to draw fire away from the others if they were spotted.

“Get back to the truck. I’ll be right behind you.”

“But… Dad?”

“No, Joel, get back to the Jeep and get moving. Take Emma with you. There’s no room in the Blazer. And keep your wits about you. There could be more of them coming through the woods.” Ben had considered that earlier before deciding on Evelyn and the girl, which he was now uncertain of again. He really hoped his group wasn’t being set up by the two.

Joel snuck away slowly at first, then ran once he was over the crest of the bank, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Crack, crack, crack. Ben repositioned himself against the log. Crack, crack, crack.

The shots echoed off the surface of the water, announcing their presence to anyone within a few miles, including the people at the bridge encampment, if they didn’t already know. Ben had made a vow long ago that he was done giving people more chances than they deserved, and the two men in the boat were no exception. They were here with murder on their minds.

The man operating the boat had reached for his rifle but never managed to get the weapon off the deck before taking three rounds to the chest. His body slumped over the tiller handle extension, sending the little boat into a repeating series of tight turns that caused the prone gunner up front to roll into the water. Ben wasn’t sure if they were both dead or not and really didn’t care. His focus now was on getting himself and the others out of here before anyone else showed up.

He clawed his way to his feet and dug into the deep sand and gravel bank as he made his way forward over the crest and toward the trucks. He saw that Sandy was behind the wheel, which was exactly what he was hoping for, and Emma was in the Scrambler, with Gunner sandwiched tightly between her and Brad.

“Go, go, go,” Ben shouted, then regretted it as he raised his arm to block a rooster tail of dirt from the Jeep’s rear tires.

“Sorry,” Joel hollered over the spinning wheels but pulled out just the same. Sandy had the Blazer rolling forward at a couple of miles per hour and leaned over to fling the passenger door open as Ben closed in on the truck. He jumped the last few feet and slammed the door closed as soon as he was able to pull himself inside the vehicle.

No sooner had Ben gotten settled and his weapon aimed out the window than a bullet zipped by from somewhere. There were others with the men in the boat. Ben and his group would have to fight their way out of here.

33

“Get down!” Ben turned to check on their new passengers and the dogs behind them crammed in the back.

Bajer and Sam were way ahead of him, though, and judging by the looks on their faces, they fully understood what was going on. Bajer hugged the floor by the back seat, tail tucked, while Sam hunkered down on her bed.

“You two, get down.” Ben repeated the order until, finally, Evelyn and Harper made themselves as flat as they could, with Evelyn lying on top. Turning to address the incoming gunfire, Ben pulled the MP5 from his back and stuck the barrel out the window. The weapon rattled away as he ran through most of the thirty-round magazine in a succession of bursts. He paused only to hang on for a split second when Sandy rounded the construction barrier much too fast. The rough transition from dirt trail to blacktop was abrupt, and the Blazer shuddered as it reentered the roadway.

Regaining his balance, Ben spent the rest of the magazine on the wooded area behind them. He didn’t have any confirmed targets in mind, but his barrage of lead seemed to keep the incoming bullets at bay for now. He dumped the empty magazine and hunted for another in the console. The bag he’d been keeping spares in had toppled and spilled out among the other stuff he kept in there.

More bullets whizzed by as he searched, but this time, it was Allie firing from overtop the Jeep’s roll bar.

“God bless that girl.” Ben’s hand landed on the gentle curve of a loaded MP5 magazine, and he slammed it home. He was more conservative with his ammunition this time around and saved his bullets for actual targets. The dark shape of a body lurking behind an oak tree was his focus, and he put several rounds into the trunk, sending wood splinters flying.

He spotted another. Allie had persuaded a woman to seek better cover with the onslaught of rounds from her AR-15, but she was out of bullets and had retreated from her position over the roll bar. Ben didn’t hesitate to take over for Allie and laid into the woman with a string of shots, leading her forward momentum and catching her on the run. She dropped her weapon and went down in a cloud of dust, disappearing as the Blazer swerved violently again, pinning Ben against the console momentarily.

Sandy didn’t let the small amount of air she’d caught reentering the paved roadway deter her ambitions for escape one bit; she stayed on the gas pedal hard, following the Jeep through the thicket of tall grass obstructing the median. With a melody of rings and tangs, the weeds bounced off the Blazer’s sheet metal, and they plowed their way through the overgrowth at speeds Ben would never have dared to attempt otherwise. Once they were through the grass, Sandy took another hard left, tires moaning in protest against the hot asphalt until they finally straightened out.

Ben scoured the landscape behind them for any signs of their attackers but saw nothing. He was going to advise Sandy to slow down but saw that she’d already backed off the throttle enough to ease his nerves about crashing.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control now.” Sandy was white-knuckling the wheel but otherwise looked surprisingly calm. “Besides, I need to keep up with your son.”

Ben suddenly remembered that Emma and Brad were riding in the back of the Scrambler, not the best place to be for this kind of maneuvering.

“Can we get up now?” Evelyn asked, her voice timid and shaken.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Sandy stated.

Ben reached out to the other truck on the two-way. “Come in, Joel. I think you can slow it down a little now. Over.”

“That was them, definitely. I recognized that boat.” Evelyn’s face was pale white as she helped Harper get settled, buckling her in with one of the lap belts buried deep in the crack of the seat.

“I’m not so sure we should do that. Look at the river. Over,” Allie answered for Joel. Her voice still held tones of excitement discernable through the static.

On cue, everyone looked to their left. The river followed the highway for at least a mile or so, and although it was a considerable distance from the interstate, the lack of trees along its bank in this spot made the waterway visible from the road, along with a second boat that was chasing them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sandy huffed. “What do they think they’re going to do, catch us by boat?”

No sooner had Sandy spoken than a bullet whizzed by the vehicle.

Ben turned and was about to ask Emma to pass him his M24, then realized she wasn’t there. “You might want to get back down.”

He leaned back, half out of his seat, and grabbed his rifle while Evelyn and Harper resumed their position.

Ben wrapped his seat belt around his left leg and locked his door before pulling himself out of the open window. Sticking his right foot under the Blazer’s dashboard, he locked himself into position against the jarring blast of hot wind that threatened to rip him from the truck. At this speed and stability, the odds of hitting his target were slim, but he couldn’t just sit back and let these idiots take potshots at the trucks for the next mile or so.

Boom.

Ben let one fly but saw it splash down several feet behind the boat’s stern. He was about to run the bolt and reload when he felt the truck sway toward the shoulder.

“Hang on. Going right,” Sandy warned.

Ben felt the truck move right and was subsequently pressed into the roof. Then she steered left, and he was pulled the other way and fighting to stay attached. He grabbed the rack rail with one hand and his rifle with the other, clinging to both until the Blazer straightened out and they’d passed the wreck she was avoiding.

Chambering a round, Ben prepared to take another shot when he spotted a muzzle flash through his scope. A split second later, another bullet zipped overhead.

Crack… crack… crack.

Ben heard Allie join the fight again but didn’t look away from his scope, her shots splashing down aft of the boat as well. Neither of them had led the craft sufficiently to score a hit. He’d make sure to compensate for that on his next attempt.

Boom.

Ben felt the overheated metal roof and rough texture of the thermal paint dig into his skin as the rifle kicked. But this time, the precarious and uncomfortable position he’d taken paid off with a hit. One of the three men on the boat dropped his weapon and tumbled over the side, quickly disappearing in the fast-moving vessel’s wake and the muddy brown water.

“Good shot,” Sandy hooted.

Ben ran the bolt and squared up on the man running the jon boat. Now that he was dialed in, he could put an end to this madness. They all deserved to taste his lead, but as a very smart man once said, There are no solutions, only tradeoffs. And right now, their safety was worth more than the compensation he felt could be achieved by eliminating these predators for the trouble they’d caused.

Zing. Boom.

Another incoming round screamed by as Ben fired his rifle, but not before he felt the truck begin to shift lanes again.

“Going right,” Sandy called out.

But it was too late, and his bullet hit water again, along with another few rounds from Allie’s weapon. Ben grabbed the roof rack and hung on as he experienced the opposite pull and push of external forces working against him. He saw the wreck pass by out of the corner of his eye and felt Sandy bring the Blazer back to center, allowing him to get back into shooting position. But the river was gone, and so was the boat. Glancing behind them, Ben observed the winding, muddy curve of the river as it veered away from the highway, gradually vanishing into a densely wooded expanse.

“Are you coming back in now? You’re making me nervous,” Sandy exclaimed.

Ben pulled himself back inside the cab and sat in silence for a second as he recovered from the blasting air.

“You’re both making me nervous,” she added.

Ben wasn’t sure what Sandy was talking about. Then he saw Allie still braced above the Jeep’s roll bar. As if she’d somehow sensed her mother’s concern, Allie gave them a quick wave and dropped out of sight. Joel slowed the Scrambler and began to change lanes, another wreck ahead. At least Ben wasn’t hanging halfway out the window this time.

They all sat in silence for a minute or two as they returned to a more conservative speed and processed what had just happened. Then Ben realized Evelyn and Harper were still cowering in the back seat.

“Now you can get up. I promise.” Ben smiled, but his upper lip stuck to his teeth; he was so parched from being pummeled by arid, gale-force winds. He probably looked half crazed, and after what had just happened, his new passengers might think he was. He licked his lips with what little spit he had left. “They’re gone.”

Evelyn sat up cautiously. Wide-eyed and visibly shaken, she looked around to see for herself. Harper pulled herself up off Bajer and climbed into her grandmother’s lap. Bajer took advantage of the space left on the seat and their return to a relatively calm state and quickly claimed the rest of the bench for herself. Sam was already over the incident, busy licking her injured paw between bouts of heavy panting.

Ben wished he could recover as quickly as the dogs from life-or-death situations, but then again, those were the emotions that helped keep him and the others alive.

“So, Hayes?” Sandy broke the silence that had settled in once more as they continued down the interstate.

“Yes, we really do appreciate you giving us a ride and getting us out of there. I wish there was some way we could repay you. Maybe when we reach Hayes, we can give you some supplies from the house?” Evelyn offered.

They’d been through enough already, and Ben didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth, although they’d find out soon enough, so he refrained from interjecting. Whatever they were expecting to be waiting for them back home was most likely gone. Which brought up another concern. How could Ben and the others drop the two off at a burned-out shell of a house and expect to go merrily on their way?

“That’s okay, really. We were already headed this way. It’s no bother.” Sandy shrugged as if she and the others did this type of thing daily.

Ben had to smile at Sandy’s nonchalance. The woman had come a long way since they first met, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by her ability to adapt. He supposed that was yet another one of the reasons he was falling for her.

“Where are you headed anyway?” Evelyn asked.

“Durango, Colorado,” Sandy answered.

That was the short answer, and Ben was happy to leave it at that. He had neither the energy nor the desire to detail the events that had led them to this point. And as it turned out, he wouldn’t have to say much at all anyway. Evelyn and Sandy seemed more than happy to trade stories about the last few weeks of their lives. He was only half listening and occupied himself with studying the atlas—or at least pretending to—and trying to catch glimpses of the kids in the back of the Scrambler.

Emma was probably happy to be included in the group with the other kids, but Ben knew conditions in the back of the Jeep were cramped, and he hoped she’d be ready to switch back to riding in the Blazer once they dropped off their new passengers. Emma wasn’t a big conversationalist, but he preferred to have her ride with him just the same.

Ben was relieved Evelyn and Harper were headed in the same direction as them. He wasn’t sure he could get behind a significant detour at this point, even if it was to help someone out. Deep down, though, he knew they would have accommodated the pair no matter their destination; he and the others were different than the people living under the bridge and the rest of the unfavorable individuals they’d encountered along the way.

This was the example he wanted to set for his kids. Just because the world had fallen into disarray didn’t mean they couldn’t show compassion to those in need. Banking some goodwill along the way was never a bad idea. And although Ben didn’t consider himself superstitious, lending a hand to an elderly woman and her granddaughter couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?

34

Ben was only mildly successful at tuning out Sandy and Evelyn’s conversation and involuntarily learned of the circumstances that had landed the woman and her granddaughter in their previous predicament. The EMPs struck while the pair were on their way to Kansas City to visit the zoo and aquarium for Harper’s sixth birthday. Fortunately, they were still quite a ways from the city when disaster struck. In another stroke of luck, the two were using the restroom at a convenience store when they heard explosions. A few seconds later, the shock waves hit, shattering glass and shaking the building to its core, leaving quite the scene for them to discover upon their exit from the bathroom.

The two navigated their way through the pandemonium somehow, and after securing whatever food and water they could carry from the damaged gas station, they escaped the chaos and fled to the nearby woods. They’d been primarily following the interstate home, but they often veered into the wooded areas bordering the highway to avoid trouble. This strategy had served them well until an unexpected encounter disrupted their journey one night, leading to their capture by a group living under the bridge. Evelyn remained reticent about the details of their abduction and their time in captivity, a topic she wasn’t keen on discussing. Ben and Sandy respected her silence and refrained from pressing for more information.

Harper reminded Ben of Emma when she was younger, and he was glad to see the girl warm up to Bajer and Sam. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for a kid that age to go through something like this. She’d be learning how to cope with the trauma of watching the world fall apart for the rest of her life. With any luck, she’d be at least partly successful in that.

He liked to think she was resilient like his kids and Allie, but that was just something he told himself so he’d feel better about their current situation. The truth was, they would all be scarred by this historic event. The devastation was unavoidable, and no one was immune unless they hid out in an underground bunker for the foreseeable future, and that was no way to live, either.

The drive from the river to Hayes, Kansas, didn’t take long, even in the oppressive heat they’d intended to avoid. Evelyn directed them down a secondary road when they’d reached the proper exit. Several country miles later, they found themselves pulling onto a dirt road that eventually led them to a small homestead. Or what was left of it.

The house was gone, as Ben had predicted, but Evelyn took it better than he anticipated. She must have known or at least expected as much. How could she not have? But the discovery of their burned-down home did give Ben and the others reason to pause as they considered what was waiting for them in Durango. They all exchanged knowing glances, but no one said a word about the elephant in the room. Soon enough, they, too, would find out whether or not their house still stood.

The homestead wasn’t a total loss, though. A barn and several small outbuildings still stood, including a cabin that Evelyn’s father built with his own two hands during the Great Depression. But most importantly, Evelyn and Harper’s family had survived, thanks to a tornado shelter filled with canned goods and various other supplies. Introductions were made and a plethora of goods offered to Ben and the others for bringing the two home.

But the five other family members now had two more mouths to feed, so Ben and the others couldn’t accept their offer in good conscience. They wouldn’t escape empty-handed, though, if Evelyn had anything to do with it. Somehow, several jars of preserved food ended up in the back of the Blazer. Ben and the others were reluctant to take food from these kind people, but they had no qualms about taking advantage of the working well. They dumped the water they’d pumped at the river and refilled their water containers with some of the coldest, cleanest water they’d tasted in quite a while.

Ben, Sandy, and the kids said their goodbyes while resisting further offers to take more food with them. They were all anxious to get back on the road and out of the sun if they could, although the latter was becoming less of a concern as the hours ticked by. Ben took over behind the wheel of the Blazer, and Joel continued driving the Jeep. Emma rejoined Ben and Sandy in the Blazer, but Ben got the impression she would have stayed with the other kids if there was more room in the back of the Scrambler. He briefly thought about trading vehicles with the kids but didn’t want to change an obviously solid formula that was working well for them and had gotten them this far.

Ben and Sandy waved back at the ragtag family of survivors as they stood outside the tiny cabin and bid them farewell. The last thing he’d wanted to do was delay their progress today, but he was glad they could help Evelyn and her granddaughter reunite with their loved ones. The looks of joy on their faces when they realized they still had a family waiting for them were well worth the cost of admission, which, in the end, only amounted to a few extra miles of travel.

But the encounter did more than provide a feel-good moment; it rekindled a perspective that Ben had started to lose. The meeting reaffirmed that amidst the apparent prominence of society’s worst elements, there remained individuals of integrity, full of kindness toward their fellow man. Evelyn’s family didn’t have a lot, but they were more than willing to share what they did have. Despite the challenges, these good-hearted people would persevere and find a path to survival. There was still hope for humanity, even when things were at their darkest, something Ben would do his best to remember when things didn’t go their way.

Back on the road, Ben followed Joel as he navigated the tight curve of the on-ramp in the Scrambler, leading them up onto the westbound lanes of the interstate. He checked his watch and marked the time at just after two in the afternoon.

“So much for sitting out the heat of the day,” Sandy remarked.

“Yeah, but all things considered, I think it turned out pretty well. Don’t you?” Ben adjusted his seat and settled in for what would likely be several hours’ worth of driving, barring any issues or fuel stops.

“Definitely. I’m so glad we could help. They were lucky they ran into us.” Sandy shook her head. “I hate to think about what would have happened to them if we hadn’t been there.”

“Well, the important thing is that they’re home and with family now.” Ben sighed.

“Do you think they’ll make it? I’d like to think so.” Sandy ran her fingernails up Ben’s arm and back down again.

“I hope so.” He glanced at her and smiled.

“I hope so, too.” Sandy stopped scratching his arm and turned to watch the monotone landscape fly by as they reached highway speeds.

Ben wasn’t sure if Evelyn and her family would be all right. But they’d made it this far, and now, thanks to Ben’s group, they had an even greater purpose in Harper. He checked on Emma in the rearview mirror and thought about some of the things they’d been through. Without the kids for motivation, Ben wasn’t sure what things would look like for him. And that wasn’t a thought he wanted to dwell on for long.

“At least we don’t have to stop for gas anytime soon.” Sandy leaned over, trying to block the glare from the instrument cluster with her hand.

“Almost three-quarters of a tank left,” Ben reported. “That’ll just about get us to the border if my math is right.”

“We’ll be home before we know it,” Sandy cheered.

“I’m good with that.” Emma slouched down in the back seat and buried her nose in a book, allowing Bajer to stretch out on the remainder of the bench with a grunt of satisfaction. Life was back to normal as far as the little gray dog was concerned. She had her person, and she had her spot on the seat. It made Ben ponder how simple life used to be, although no one could have convinced him of that at the time. Life was also simple now in some ways, just a lot more dangerous as well.

35

The miles rolled by as the sun fell closer to the distant horizon. The drop in temperature gradually became more apparent, although the damage done by the heat and drought to the surrounding countryside was here to stay. Ben hoped the view out his window would change soon and wondered if the relief they were all looking forward to on the eastern slope of the Rockies would ever materialize.

After dropping off Evelyn and Harper, they were less than 150 miles from the Colorado border, and after the last couple hours of driving, Ben was anxious to check the map, thinking they’d just about done that much driving since they parted ways with the pair and their family.

The roads had been relatively free of wrecks and hazards, but these were desolate parts even in better times. There was nothing out here but flat, empty plots of land, fields that should have been full of vibrant green rows of corn, soybeans, and wheat. Instead, they were faded brown and strewn with weeds clinging to cracked patches of baked dirt.

The empty roads made for good traveling, though, and there were long stretches of highway where they were finally able to coax the needle over into the far side of the speedometer. This, of course, had a price, and that was increased fuel consumption, but it was a tradeoff Ben was happy to make. He wanted to push through and reach well beyond the Colorado state line today, still not sure if that was possible or smart.

The faint blue lines on his atlas had grown significantly thinner in both size and frequency. Ben also knew there wasn’t much between the Colorado border and the Rockies. The first hundred miles or so inside their home state wouldn’t offer much more in the way of resources than what they were looking at currently.

He’d already begun to rationalize driving through the night again, but this time, he’d do it to avoid the heat. Pushing themselves through the midday sun out here in the flatlands was just as dangerous as any perils they would face on the road at night. At least that was what he told himself. But that could have been his thirst talking.

Ben could have polished off the rest of his Nalgene without pause, but he was trying to set an example for the others. Now more than ever, they had to be frugal with their water or risk running out. For the first time, there was a real chance the water they were carrying would have to last them until tomorrow. Ben had his eyes on Pueblo, Colorado, where the Arkansas River dumped into the Pueblo Reservoir. It was probably too far to reach without driving longer than they should, but the tailwaters of the reservoir and the lower portion of the Arkansas, where the river crossed their planned route around Olney Springs, Colorado, were less than two hundred miles away. That was still a lofty goal considering the day they’d already endured, but it was their next best shot at finding water. And if they could pull it off, Ben was sure they could reach Durango the next day.

Allie’s staticky voice broke the silence. “Come in. We’re gonna need to make a fuel stop soon. Over.”

Ben raised his hand off the wheel, eyed the Blazer’s gauge, and nodded at Sandy.

“Copy that. Better start looking. Over,” Sandy replied.

Emma put her book down for the first time in a while and sat up in her seat, upsetting Bajer momentarily in the process. “Where are we?”

“I saw a sign for US-40 west a little while back. It said twenty-three miles to the exit.” Sandy pulled out the atlas and began to study it. “Isn’t that the road we want?”

“Yes, and the state line isn’t too much farther past that, maybe fifty or sixty miles,” Ben confirmed.

It was hard to believe they were this close. After the distance they’d traveled, the remaining miles seemed cruel and unnecessary, but they also gave Ben a sense of hope. The realization that they were so close to the state line filled the truck with silence once again as they processed what that meant.

“Does that mean we’ll be home tonight?” Emma asked, her voice unusually energetic.

“We’ll be home tomorrow.” Ben waited for the expected sigh of disappointment, but historically, it wasn’t the worst announcement he’d ever made by far.

Emma sat back in her seat. She wasn’t upset, but Ben could see the wheels in her head spinning. He’d felt bad about not being able to answer her last question with a yes, but the reality was that they were close. He’d never been able to say with confidence that they’d be home tomorrow, and the phrase almost sounded foreign when he spoke it out loud.

“Gas station ahead. It’s on our side of the interstate, too. Over,” Allie announced with enthusiasm.

A minute later, they were following the Scrambler off the highway onto the exit ramp. A weathered and peeling Dairy Queen billboard advertising a location that didn’t exist anymore gave them a brief flash of shade as they made a right onto the secondary road leading into the Sinclair’s parking lot. This wasn’t so much a town as it was a few scattered buildings in the middle of nowhere. But unlike most places they’d stopped at, the buildings were intact here, and Ben found himself feeling guilty for wishing they weren’t.

They made the obligatory loop around the place, looking for anything suspect, but they saw nothing. The EMP-induced power surge that had caused so many places to burn to the ground had somehow spared this place for one reason or another, but the looters hadn’t. It was plain to see from the parking lot that there was nothing left inside the store.

The surrounding buildings looked about the same, although one of the places was a Firestone farm tire center, and for the life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out what looters stood to gain from ransacking a place like that. Then again, he didn’t understand why, in a crisis like this, anyone would take the time to vandalize a place just for the sake of destruction. Spray-painted expletives on the side of a building served no purpose and certainly weren’t integral to survival, but vandalism like this was prevalent almost everywhere they went. He chalked it up to the product of an already unhappy population pushed over the edge and released from the constraints of normal societal expectations when the system crumbled. But whatever the reason, Ben was glad whoever left their mark here had already moved on.

“Haven’t seen one of these since Colorado.” Joel looked up at the Sinclair’s sign towering over the parking lot above them while he unrolled the fuel hose.

“I don’t have to look at the map to know we’re getting close now,” Allie added.

“Tomorrow we’ll be home,” Sandy announced to the others, then looked at Ben. “Right?”

“I don’t see why not. Put in a few more hours this afternoon and make camp somewhere quiet tonight,” Ben agreed.

“That shouldn’t be too hard.” Brad spun around, eyeing their surroundings. “Not much out here.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can let our guard down. In fact, I’d say now more than ever, we need to keep our wits about us and pay attention.” Ben didn’t intend to put a damper on the kids’ obvious enthusiasm about their progress, but he didn’t want them getting comfortable yet.

Complacency wouldn’t help them finish the trip safely. In his opinion, they were much too far from home to even consider celebrating. All that considered, it was a welcome change to discuss the end of this odyssey that had taken them thousands of miles from one side of the country to the other. The difference this time was that Ben had figured them to be no more than ten hours from Durango at normal highway speeds, although they were about to leave the big interstate behind.

The wide-open four-lane interstate that had brought them through several states continued north for a while, then cut west again toward Denver, but they were getting off at the next exit. US-40 west was what they’d be using to head slightly south toward the bottom corner of the map. He’d had his eye on the Arkansas River below the big reservoir in Pueblo but was reconsidering the plan in lieu of someplace closer on the lower section of the river.

Ben’s confidence in their ability to reach the river below Pueblo was unshakable, perhaps fueled by their proximity to the state line or the infectious excitement emanating from the kids’ eager chatter about nearing home. Regardless, he couldn’t help but get caught up in their enthusiasm, and for a brief moment, all was well in their little world, despite their bleak surroundings.

They finished fueling the truck in what felt like record time, although that was likely due to the jerry cans already being full. Sandy took stock of the remaining water while they cleaned up the refueling gear and themselves. Ben made a quick mechanical check of both vehicles, looking and listening for anything obvious that might ruin their momentum, but he found nothing.

“Nalgenes are topped off and we’ve got about three gallons left in the big tank,” Sandy reported.

Ben laid the map out on the Scrambler’s hood and outlined his travel plan for the others while Allie took notes with a pencil on the back of a lottery ticket that had escaped the ravaged gas station. Once everyone was clear on the route, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, Ben reminded them all to conserve water once again. With everyone on the same page and the dogs finished taking care of business in a cluster of dead shrubs nearby, they loaded up and headed back out onto I-70 for the last few miles before the exit.

Ben’s satisfaction with the smooth pit stop quickly waned as the hum of the tires drowned out the chatter in the truck. He shifted his focus to the mundane task of navigating through what could only be described as a desolate wasteland as his mind drifted to memories of home and better days.

36

US-40 west was a smaller road consisting of only two lanes without any median separating them, and it proved to be just as clear as the big interstate for the most part. The barren landscape was beneficial here, providing ample room around any vehicles blocking the road. The shoulders and grassy areas they passed weren’t thick with overgrowth like they were elsewhere.

Cheers went out over the radios when they crossed into Colorado, but the mood was short-lived as they passed the place where Allie was abducted on their way east. Ben looked for the sign he’d spray-painted as a warning about the dangers here for other travelers but couldn’t find it. He wondered if he’d simply missed the marker or if the people who’d taken Allie had removed it so they could continue to prey on the unsuspecting. Of Ben’s regrets, letting those two get away was one of his biggest.

As expected, the drab landscape and drought conditions didn’t improve west of the Kansas state line and wouldn’t for a while, which also contributed to the short-lived celebration about reaching Colorado. Tired and desperate for the day to come to an end, Ben and the others deviated from the original route. At Kit Carson, Colorado, they turned off US-40 and took Route 287, making their way straight south toward a little town he’d never heard of before.

Wiley, Colorado, and the Arkansas River lay ahead. The detour shouldn’t cost them much additional time, if any at all, and it would shave a good fifty miles off the day’s drive to reach water, leaving them ample daylight to set up camp in an area that they could fully vet before committing to making it their home for the night. They could resume their trek west in the morning by picking up Route 50 toward Alamosa and 160, which would take them all the way into Durango.

After checking in with Joel and learning the Jeep was also holding a little over a half tank, Ben decided to forgo another gas stop in favor of reaching camp even earlier; he’d use the jerry cans to add to the gas they had in the trucks when they left in the morning. They’d have to stop for fuel either way before heading over the Rockies tomorrow, and there was no point in making any more work for themselves today. Half a tank was plenty of fuel to bug out if they needed to, and Ben made the call to push on toward water.

Wiley, Colorado, was another speck of a town nestled amidst a vast expanse of sprawling agricultural plots, each seemingly stretching for thousands of acres. Ben squinted against the setting sun, longing for a glimpse of the Rocky Mountains in the distance, but they were still too far away for that. He knew better but couldn’t resist.

“Doesn’t look like they fared too well here.” Sandy was looking in the opposite direction, at what was left of the small town.

“We’ve seen worse,” Ben remarked.

There were more houses and buildings standing than they were used to seeing, perhaps the result of this town being so isolated, but there was no confusing the place for a thriving community. In the distance, Ben spotted a tractor crossing a field. The image undulating in the residual heat rising from the earth made him second-guess his vision. The Conoco gas station on their left remained in name only; what had once been a parking lot now looked like a war zone. Ben could only assume the underground storage tanks must have exploded, leaving a crater in the parking lot big enough to swallow a house or, in this case, a convenience store. It was just as well; they hadn’t planned on fueling up here.

Farther into the remnants of Wiley, they passed a high school football field in perfect condition, minus the dead grass. A large billboard read HOME OF THE WILEY PANTHERS and proudly displayed the score from the last game played here. Ben imagined the glistening metal bleachers along the road to their left filled with people for a Friday night game. It brought a smile to his face, but it faded quickly. He missed watching Joel play lacrosse, but then again, he missed a lot of things he’d once taken for granted.

“You never really get used to it, do you?” Sandy caught him staring at the athletic field and the ruins of the school beyond.

“Nope, probably never will.” Ben focused on the road ahead as they passed a collection of grain silos, and Wiley disappeared from view just as quickly as it had materialized out of nowhere. Several more miles and they could get off this long, straight stretch of highway and start to follow the Arkansas River upstream until they found a suitable place to camp. He was glad they had a couple hours of daylight left, and he planned on putting them to good use by choosing a spot to spend the night that was well off the beaten path.

“Oh, Sam. Or is that you, Bajer?” Emma sat up and leaned forward, holding her nose, but it wasn’t the dogs this time.

“I smell it, too. What is that?” Sandy pulled her shirt collar up over her nose.

“That’s not the dogs.” Ben recognized the smell of death right away but kept it to himself.

Whatever was causing the foul odor must have been huge, and his mind started to race with possibilities. What had they accidentally discovered, and did they really want to find out? But Ben didn’t have to wonder where the smell was coming from for long; the answer was waiting for them at the intersection where the road ended. Joel made the right-hand turn toward Alamosa and sped up quickly.

Ben saw Gunner extend his head above the Scrambler’s roll bar, taking in the toxic aroma caused by hundreds, maybe thousands of dead cattle as far as the eye could see. The Five Rivers Cattle Feeding Facility on their left boasted an endless array of corrals filled with the rotting bodies of livestock too numerous to count. There were almost as many birds as there were dead cattle scattered about the property. Even a few coyotes roamed freely, oblivious to the two trucks passing by. Ben picked up speed, keeping up with Joel, who was obviously trying to outrun the stench and get past this gruesome mess as quickly as possible.

“That is so bad.” Emma’s complaint was muffled by the towel she was holding over her nose and mouth.

Ben was equally disgusted by the sight, but his first thought was of the wasted resources. He’d readjusted his initial assessment of the body count and decided he was looking at numbers that far exceeded what he’d thought. Saying there were thousands of cattle here would have been conservative considering the scope and magnitude of what he was witnessing.

After a few miles of driving faster than they should have been, the feeding facility vanished, but the smell lingered for miles more.

“Come in, guys. Let’s give that place some distance before looking for a spot to camp. Over.” Ben set the radio down in the cup holder and adjusted his side window vent to direct the fresh air toward his face.

“Roger that. Sounds good to us,” Allie answered.

About ten minutes later, the smell subsided, right about the time Ben saw a sign announcing their approach to the town of Las Animas, eight miles ahead. He had Sandy contact the kids again and tell them to start looking for a way down to the river on their left. They couldn’t see the water from the highway, but that was good. Ben didn’t want to camp anywhere they could be seen by passing travelers.

This place was remote enough on its own. Their chances of seeing anyone out here were slim, but it felt especially important to take extra precautions on what he hoped to be their last night on the road.

“Come in. We see a spot coming up. Looks like it goes for a ways,” Allie reported.

“Go for it.” Ben nodded at Sandy, who relayed the message.

The dirt road was hardly distinguishable from the rest of the ground once they were off the pavement, and Ben gave the Scrambler a healthy lead so he could cover their tracks in the fine, powder-like dirt that clearly showed the tread patterns of their tires. Ben stomped on the gas, causing the rear tires to spin and throw a shower of dirt and gravel over their path. Satisfied he’d disguised their exit to look more like someone had swerved off the road than left it altogether, he continued on behind the Jeep, holding back enough to avoid the giant trail of dust the Scrambler was kicking up.

They must have traveled over a mile, descending into the watershed of the Arkansas River, only to find dry sand where water should have been flowing. Maybe the reservoir upstream had its spillways closed, or maybe the drought had simply claimed the river. This was a semi-arid region with normally unpredictable weather patterns, but whatever the cause for the dry riverbed, they wouldn’t be adding to their water reserves tonight. Which meant they’d be forced to continue rationing resources. Ben was only mildly surprised by the conditions, though, and glad he’d planned accordingly. At least the boys wouldn’t ask to go fishing in the morning, and if anything, the lack of water would almost guarantee they wouldn’t have to worry about running into people down here.

“So what do we do? Keep looking farther upstream toward Pueblo, maybe at the reservoir?” Joel leaned out his window as Ben pulled alongside the Jeep.

“We have enough water to make it through the night, and we’re already heading that way in the morning so we can re-up on water tomorrow. Let’s set up camp here before it gets dark and suck it up for the night,” Ben reasoned.

“I guess. It’s gonna be like camping in the desert, though,” Joel stated.

“Follow us.” Ben pulled forward and drove behind a thicket of scrub brush that had lost its battle against the drought long ago. There was no life left in the majority of the vegetation along the banks, but the tangle of bare branches and sagebrush provided plenty of cover. The fact that they were well off the roadway helped conceal them more than anything, though, and given the isolated nature of the area, he liked their odds for a peaceful night here.

By the time they reached the reservoir, it would be dark out, negating Ben’s reason for taking the shorter route this afternoon. And he was also pretty sure they’d encounter people above the dam, where he was sure water was more plentiful.

He instructed the others where to set up their tents for the night, avoiding the dry riverbed in case of a flash flood. He doubted they’d see any rain tonight; the sky was crystal clear and already showing a big moon and a smattering of brighter stars. But he was also aware that a downpour miles away could cause a sudden washout. He’d seen too many arroyos go from bone dry to a raging torrent of liquified mud and deadfall-filled rapids in a matter of seconds to even think about camping in the riverbed.

Ben set his tent up quickly and got to work on digging two holes for a smokeless fire. He hadn’t planned on having a campfire tonight, but it felt like he had to make up for the subpar location in some way. Besides, some of the preserved food they’d been gifted recently would cook better in the large pot over an open flame. And with access to plenty of dry wood that would burn cleanly, there was no reason to suffer unnecessarily during their last night on the road.

37

With camp established and no flowing river for the kids or dogs to occupy their time, there were plenty of hands on deck to help prepare dinner.

“Brad, over here.” Ben waved at his youngest.

Brad turned and saw Ben trying to get his attention several yards outside camp. “What’s going on?”

“Well, we have a few minutes before we lose light, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and help set a snare trap?” Ben held some sticks he’d gathered, a small roll of cordage, and the Ka-Bar knife he used for tasks requiring more brute force than he cared to ask of his pocketknife.

Brad’s face lit up. “Yeah. What do you think we’ll catch?”

Ben shuffled the supplies they needed to one hand and put his other hand on Brad’s shoulder, leading him toward the riverbed. As they headed out, he glanced back and winked at Sandy. He’d told her of his plan to try and spend a little time with Brad.

“A rabbit, maybe. That would make for a nice breakfast, wouldn’t it?” Ben let Brad lead the way as they traversed the steep riverbank.

“Yes, it would,” Brad agreed.

Ben had noticed tracks earlier when they first arrived. There appeared to be a prominent game trail running through the cattails at the edge of where the water once flowed. As the river shrank, the animals were forced to go deeper and deeper into the dry channels in search of the remaining pockets of water.

“Here, this looks like a good spot. What do you think?” Ben’s finger hovered a few inches off the ground as he traced a set of rabbit tracks imprinted on the loose sand.

“Looks good to me.” Brad nodded his approval.

Ben set his supplies down and explained the method for setting the snare as he whittled the two sticks into a trigger and a base anchor. He used the blunt end of the Ka-Bar’s handle to pound the sharpened end of the anchor several inches into the dry earth until it held firm. Next, he found a suitable willow sapling and tied one end of the cordage to the tip, then the other end to the hook. He then forced the young tree into a tight arc toward the ground, attaching the hook to the anchor by means of the opposing notch he’d carved into both pieces of wood.

“Now what? The snare?” Brad squatted down near the contraption, studying what his father had done so far.

“Do you have the other piece of cord ready?”

“Yep, here you go.” Brad handed Ben the roughly three-foot piece of string he’d been asked to cut from the coil of cordage.

“Now we make a noose or a slipknot and attach it to the hook on top here and prop it open across the trail.” Ben used some twigs and stiff grass to position the noose in a manner that would force any critter using the trail to go through the loop or choose a different route. “And then we wait.”

Ben sat back on his heels and admired his creation. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled a few kernels of corn from a baggie and laid them along the trail through the noose. Thanks to Evelyn and her family’s generosity, they had irresistible bait.

“When should we come back and check on it?” Brad rubbed his hands together.

“That can be your job in the morning.” Ben patted his son’s shoulder and used Brad for balance as he stood up slowly for the sake of his knee.

“Knee still hurting?” Brad remarked.

“Not too bad. Do yourself a favor, will you? Don’t get old.” Ben chuckled.

“Yeah, right.” Brad laughed and stood up, following Ben back to camp but not without looking back at their snare trap at least a few more times.

By the time Ben and Brad joined the others, they were using the red lights on their headlamps to avoid tripping over the clusters of dead grass that dotted the ground.

“I heard you guys are going to catch us breakfast.” Allie welcomed them back while the dogs ran to greet them and gave them both a thorough sniffing as though they had been gone for hours.

“We’ll see, but it’s a pretty good snare trap.” Brad strutted the rest of the way into camp. “I’ll check it in the morning.”

Sandy handed them each a plate of rice, green beans, and corn with a smile. Ben wished they had the rabbit now. Or anything, for that matter. If they kept eating like this, he’d have to add another notch to his belt. He hadn’t been this thin since he was a kid coming out of basic. But that would change once they got home and could invest time in hunting game rather than fending off bad guys.

They all sat around the fire, letting its light accompany their meal, along with the moon and more stars than they could count. The dogs ate their portion of food in a matter of seconds, it seemed, and resumed begging for scraps. Gunner stood in front of Ben and waited. Ben knew what the dog wanted. He stuck out his good leg and used his foot to rub Gunner’s chest to a tune of grumbles and low growls.

Gunner loved to wrestle. At least that was what Ben called it. A game of pushing and shoving where Gunner would jockey for position against Ben’s foot as he tried to fend off a mock attack by the fearsome animal. The contest lasted a couple of minutes as the others laughed until Gunner got tired and gave up, finding a spot next to Joel and Allie near the fire. Even the dogs knew they were close to home.

The temperature was dropping fast, and there was no doubt the geography had changed; the desert-like ecosystem provided a stark but welcome contrast to the harshness of the day. With no flowing water to utilize, they did their best to use as little water as possible to clean up and brush their teeth.

Sandy shoved the dirty utensils and dishes into a sack with a smile.

“What?” Ben noticed her grin.

“We can wash these when we…” She choked up for a moment, then regained her composure. “When we get home tomorrow,” she finished.

Ben nodded. “We sure can.”

Ben saw that the kids were occupied getting their sleeping bags ready and grabbed Sandy’s hand, pulling her behind the Blazer for a quick kiss.

She blushed. “What was that for?”

Ben pulled away just a few inches and looked into her eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She rested her arms over each of his shoulders and kissed him back after checking to see if the kids were still busy.

“Everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.” Ben brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she cooed.

“No, I mean it. I couldn’t imagine going through this alone.” He shook his head and gazed skyward for a second. “I mean, I have the kids, but it’s nice to have… I mean, it’s… You’re…” Ben stumbled over his words, struggling to convey what he was feeling.

Sandy covered his mouth with her hand and nodded. “I know what you mean. We do make a good team, don’t we?” She smiled.

“That’s why I want you and Allie to come live up at the house with us in Durango Hills. I’m not sure what we’ll find when we get home, but it won’t be safe for you guys in town.” He paused for a second. “And I want you there.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already thought about it,” Sandy stuttered, tears welling in her eyes as she smiled.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Ben gave her a quick peck on the cheek and led her back toward the others by the hand before she could answer, only letting go when they were exposed by the light of the flames.

There’d be time to let the kids in on all this later. He’d already said more than he intended to tonight, although in his heart of hearts, he knew the offer made to Sandy and her daughter was long overdue. He should have broached the subject long ago and let them know they had a place at the house.

Back at camp, the kids were all getting settled into their tents. Gunner chose to bunk with Allie, Sam with Brad, and Bajer, to no one’s surprise, was attached to Emma like glue. They said their goodnights, and Ben stirred the fire one final time before retiring to his tent. He’d let the campfire die out overnight and restart it in the morning if the trap produced game. For Brad’s sake, he hoped it did, but he had to admit, he wouldn’t be completely disappointed if they didn’t catch anything and got an early start on the last leg of the trip instead.

It would be nice to fill their bellies with some protein for the big push home, though. Tomorrow would be a long day, and it would likely be a hard one as well if the last few weeks were any indication of what they should expect. There were still a couple hundred miles between them and their final destination. The trip should take somewhere between five and six hours, if he had to guess. But those old metrics meant nothing, and he knew it. Anything could happen, and the big open interstates were well behind them now. From here on out, it would be twisty, two-lane mountain roads and sharp switchbacks over steep passes.

Ben left his hiking boots by the tent flap with his pistol grip-up inside one of them, ready to be used. He laid his AR-15 alongside his bag and put his head on the rolled-up towel he’d been using for a pillow. What a luxury it would be to have a real pillow again and sleep in his own bed. Tomorrow night, with a little luck and continued perseverance, he would do just that.

38

Ben was physically exhausted, but no matter how hard he tried to sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about the day ahead. The distant howl of a coyote silenced an owl temporarily and warranted a grumble from Gunner inside Allie’s tent. Ben would have preferred the dog to sleep outside the bivy, but it was actually on the cool side tonight, a welcome change, and he imagined both Gunner and Allie were enjoying the added comfort of each other’s body heat.

Ben checked his watch, disappointed that he hadn’t accomplished more than dozing off for a couple of minutes here and there. The owl picked up right where it left off, and Ben considered getting up and making a pot of coffee if he couldn’t get to sleep in the next few minutes. It was a beautifully clear night, and if he couldn’t stop his brain from working overtime, he might as well enjoy the scenery and agreeable temperatures, along with a little solitude, which he didn’t get much of these days.

As he lay there contemplating how much longer he should stay put, Ben noticed a sudden silence outside. The abrupt change was unnatural: no owls hooting, no coyotes calling back and forth to one another, not even a cricket. That wasn’t the case a minute ago. If it had been this quiet all night, he’d be sleeping by now. Something was wrong.

Ben unzipped the tent fly slowly and quietly while returning the 9mm to its place on his belt. He pulled his boots on and laced them, listening for any sounds that would seem out of place, but all he could hear was Bajer snoring. He was often jealous of the little dog’s ability to sleep deeply at will, but not tonight. Now he really wished Gunner had opted to sleep outside Allie’s tent. The dog had a sixth sense when it came to sniffing out trouble but would likely ignore any premonitions while nestled up alongside his favorite person.

Ben slipped outside into the cool night air, making sure to keep his profile below the outline of his tent, and took a deep breath, listening again for anything peculiar. But it wasn’t a sound that got his attention. There was movement.

His pulse quickened as the shadowy figure darted between the vehicles, then to a group of trees outside the camp perimeter. Whoever was out there was armed with a rifle; Ben could see the silhouette of a gun in the moonlight. And there was a good chance the intruder wasn’t alone, just a scout sent ahead to size up the threat and potential score.

Ben reached back inside his tent, retrieving his AR-15 and the Ka-Bar knife he’d used to set up the snare trap with Brad earlier, thankful now that he hadn’t returned the oversized blade to the truck. They were too close to home to go down like this. The instant rush of adrenaline coursing through his body warmed his limbs as the familiar sensation began to take control. It was a feeling he’d learned to embrace long ago, and although he’d successfully repressed this certain brand of consciousness for years, the harsh conditions of a post-EMP world had awoken a part of him he did his best to conceal from friends and family. An inner animal that had an appetite for setting things right and exacting vengeance for wrongs against those he cared about.

Ben heard the bare branches of a leafless cottonwood clank together in the shadows twenty yards past the vehicles. Then two short bursts flickered from a handheld flashlight aimed toward the tree line. It was a signal from the scout for his accomplices to move in and take the camp. There was no mistaking their intention. As far as Ben was concerned, these people aimed to kill them and take their things.

In that moment, he gave in to the anger and hatred brewing deep in his gut. The overwhelming desire to protect his family from harm superseded all other thoughts, forcing him to relinquish any promises he’d made to himself in days past to suppress the monster within. He knew the course of action required tonight if they were going to make Durango tomorrow. Or ever, for that matter.

Ben drew the Ka-Bar across his finger, feeling the sharpened edge as the cool steel glistened in the moon. He wouldn’t wake the others if he could help it. There was no time or way to let the others know what was happening without alerting the would-be thieves. More importantly, though, there was no need. Their new friends were amateurs; that much was obvious. He’d been powerless to shield the others from the brutal realities of post-apocalyptic life. But this was a chance to do things his way, in silence and in darkness, where he thrived among the shadows.

It was like he’d been living underwater for most of his life and now he was back on the surface, where he could breathe freely and allow his instincts to guide his actions. There was no need to think, no need to practice restraint, only one clear path to resolution: killing every single one of these deviants that chose to darken his family’s path tonight.

Ben snuck away from his tent and found a clear path through the soft sand that would allow him to flank the stand of drought-stricken cottonwoods. The scout had already fulfilled his purpose, calling in his cohort for the kill. It was Ben’s turn now.

As Ben approached from behind, the blurry figure bouncing between the vehicles and inspecting their cargo earlier came into focus. Ben closed the distance swiftly and silently, with the Ka-Bar firmly in his grip. Grabbing the man by means of a hand over his mouth, Ben turned the scout’s head to the side, pinning it against his shoulder, and ran the seven-inch blade across his neck, making sure to cut deeply. There was no sound other than a muffled scream followed by gurgles of escaping air from the freshly opened gash in the man’s neck.

Ben held tight for a minute, forgetting about the expiring man in his arms as he focused on the open expanse of terrain between camp and the road. There were others out there somewhere, headed his way. He didn’t know how many there were, and tonight, he didn’t care. If things went south, he was confident in the knowledge that he was carrying plenty of firepower to deal with whatever threat materialized. And although a big firefight was what he was trying to avoid, the minute he opened fire, Joel and the others would have his six.

Maybe he was being foolish. Maybe he’d had enough of this crap and just wanted to get home. But there was a fire burning in his chest, and he could no longer control it. As he let the scout’s corpse drop to the ground, he could not deny the feeling of satisfaction that warmed his body.

This was about more than just tonight. This was for all the subhuman garbage that had attempted to derail their plans to get home. Tonight was about payback, lost time, and lost innocence, and although he knew it was insignificant in the grand scheme of things, this was about taking a stand and declaring their right to live life on their terms, not the terms imposed on them by circumstance.

Ben wiped the knife clean on the man’s shirt and moved on toward the bluff in the near distance. The terrain rose steadily all the way to the road from the river, so he had the advantage in the dim light if he kept to the lower spots and shadows. If he stayed low, he’d see the attackers’ silhouettes advancing downhill. Sure enough, within a few minutes of killing the scout, he found his next target. Not knowing how many assailants he was up against was concerning, but he planned on making up for that through sheer tenacity and cunning.

The dark figure stopped behind a cactus and waved to some unseen accomplice behind him, oblivious that he was dooming them both with every movement. The elevation difference gave Ben the upper hand, and he was able to maneuver around the man with ease. In closing the last few feet to his target, Ben stepped on something that snapped, and the man looked in his direction, but it was too late. Ben’s knife was already raised and came down into his chest with a resounding thud. The man tried to shout but struggled to find his voice as he gasped for air. Ben planted a foot behind the intruder’s right leg and took him to the ground, driving the Ka-Bar deeper still until he felt the bite of earth on the other side.

They looked at each other for a fleeting moment before the man’s eyes went dim. Ben lay there on top of him for as long as it took to make sure this man—who would have killed his children for whatever gear could be found in the trucks—was dead. He drew his knife from the dead man’s sternum, wiping it clean for the second time tonight.

On to the others. He had a family to get home, and for the first time in weeks, he was in a position to do something real about it, or so it felt. They were running low on quality food, optimism, and stamina. Everyone put on a happy face or did their best to pretend like everything was fine, but even a blind man could have seen through the thinly veiled shamble that their lives had become.

They had each other, and that was something Ben made sure not to ever take for granted, but too much more of this kind of living could only lead to one outcome, and that wasn’t something he was willing to tolerate any longer. It was time to end this nightmare that had become their lives. Something had snapped, and he felt different. He wasn’t sure what he had left to give, but so help him God, he’d leave it all here tonight if that was what it took to get the others home.

Ben checked his watch. Some habits were hard to kick, especially when the stage was set. He wasn’t on the clock tonight, and there was no scheduled exfil. But that wouldn’t affect the mission. Only ten minutes had passed since he left the confines of his stuffy tent, and he’d already taken out two of these attackers. At this rate, depending on how many rats were in the hen house, he’d still have time to squeeze in a little shut-eye.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t possible after this. There’d be no chance of sleep tonight. He glanced down at his blood-stained hands and shook his head in disgust as if he had a choice. His mind raced with scenarios, but one thing was crystal clear. He wouldn’t come down from the high he felt until this place was half an hour away. And when he’d cleaned up here, they’d leave this god-awful dust bowl of a camp that he’d tried to sell as a decent spot. Tonight.

And against his better judgment, they wouldn’t stop again, except for fuel, until Ben was looking at the cedar shake siding on the dormer over Joel’s bedroom—the siding he’d been meaning to replace for way too long. Oh, how he longed to put the Glock away and strap on a tool belt instead. But if that was ever going to happen, he needed to finish this.

39

Ben was at peace with his surroundings and appreciated the coolness of the night air on his skin as he slid the AR-15 around into a more accessible position. If it came to using the weapon, he’d wake the others, but it was inevitable—and a small price to pay for their safety. Besides, they were leaving soon. He hated to be so callous, but his mission was crystal clear. It always had been. And nothing would stand in his way.

Moving through the scrub brush, Ben closed in on the next intruder, following the sound of footsteps. The man was clumsily stomping his way over the crusty ground and clearly hadn’t anticipated running into anyone yet. Their eyes met, but at ten yards, the Ka-Bar in Ben’s hand was useless.

Or was it?

The man fumbled with his sawed-off double-barrel shotgun, but Ben was already halfway through his release. The blackened steel knife tumbled through the air with a whooshing sound until it came to rest, buried up to its hilt in the intruder’s chest. Reeling backward, the man clung to his weapon, then dropped to his knees, where he summoned the strength to perform one final act of desperation.

Boom.

The bark of the shotgun faded quickly in the clear night air. Fortunately for Ben, the man hadn’t retained the presence of mind to aim properly, and the slug burrowed itself into the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Hey!” Ben heard the shout and spun around to see a man half a football field away, running straight toward him with a rifle. Ben couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy. He casually spun his AR-15 up into the high-ready position and took aim at the moving target.

Crack, crack, crack.

Ben lowered his weapon and saw the man go down through the dissipating smoke left by his shots. He listened to the groans of agony, followed by calls for the man’s friends to come to his aid. But he was alone now unless there were more of them. Ben crouched low to the ground and listened for any others, but all he could hear was the man crying. Then he began choking and went silent altogether. Ben felt no remorse for the four intruders he’d dispatched, and in that moment, his biggest disappointment was that Brad wouldn’t get to check the snare trap in the morning.

Satisfied that all threats had been neutralized, Ben retrieved the Ka-Bar from the shotgun-wielding thief’s chest and headed back to camp. He wiped the blade clean again, only this time he used the man’s shirt to clean the blood from his hands as well, inspecting them in the moonlight when he was finished. The others would be awake when he returned, and he didn’t want the first thing they saw today to be him covered in blood.

Ben jogged back to camp, announcing his arrival well before cresting the small hill and exposing himself. Gunner was first over the dune and greeted Ben with his usual exuberance. At least he knew Allie was up. But they were all up. Maybe not fully awake, but they were up.

“What’s going on? We heard gunshots. Are you okay? Is that blood on your shirt?” Sandy was still half asleep, but that didn’t stop her from rattling off a list of questions and concerns.

“I’m fine. Just a few guys trying to get the upper hand on us and take our gear,” Ben explained.

Joel had his carbine ready and walked past his dad several feet toward the road, ready for a fight.

“It’s over,” Ben confirmed.

“You should have gotten me up. I could have helped.” Joel continued scouring the area beyond camp as if he was hoping to find someone his dad might have missed.

“There was no time. But… since you’re all up, what would you say to packing up and getting an early start?”

“What time is it?” Emma yawned as she climbed over Bajer to get out of her tent.

Ben glanced at his watch even though he knew exactly what time it was. “Three-thirty.”

Emma sighed. “I don’t care. Whatever. I guess we should leave anyways because of the noise, right?”

Ben smiled at her, then glanced around at the others. “Right.”

No one spoke as they packed up camp. A silent bustle of activity found them loaded up and ready to hit the road in a matter of minutes. Ben studied the map under the light of his headlamp just to make sure he wasn’t overlooking something, but he knew the roads by heart. It was pretty much a straight shot from here down US-50 until they hit La Junta, Colorado, and picked up US-160, the last road they’d need to get them home.

“All right, I think that’s it.” Allie threw her backpack into the back of the Scrambler and then looked around as if she’d forgotten something. “Where’s Brad?”

“Emma and Bajer are gone, too.” Sandy emerged from the far side of the Blazer. “I thought maybe they were in the truck already, but it’s empty.”

Ben had lost track of what everyone was doing in the early-morning darkness. But he had a feeling he knew exactly where they were.

“Oh, Brad.” He shook his head.

“What?” Sandy’s brow wrinkled.

“He’s checking the trap we set.”

“I told him to let it go,” Joel added.

“All right, get the trucks started. We’ll be right back. Joel, with me.” Ben didn’t waste any time and headed toward the riverbed. He and Joel hadn’t made it more than twenty yards when he heard Emma scream. Chills ran up Ben’s spine as he readied his weapon and launched into a sprint. Joel was on his heels, and the two of them reached the trap in a matter of seconds, only to find Emma, Brad, and Bajer surrounded by a pack of coyotes. A bloodied rabbit dangled from the snare, half of it missing and the rest torn to shreds by the ravenous pack of canines.

Neither Brad nor Emma was armed, and it seemed the coyotes had lost interest in the meager rabbit carcass and had set their sights on larger prey. Ben aimed but dropped his rifle, realizing he didn’t have a clear shot with the kids in the center of the pack. Before he could reposition himself, one of the coyotes bluff-charged Emma, causing her to scream again. The coyote answered back with a high-pitched scream of its own and then went in for the kill. Ben couldn’t believe how aggressively the pack of forty- to fifty-pound animals was behaving, but what happened next was even harder to accept.

Bajer stiffened, her muscles rippling under her short, brindled coat of gray and tan fur. Then she launched herself forward without further warning, intercepting the coyote in a cloud of red-lit dust thanks to Ben’s and Joel’s headlamps. The mild-mannered cuddle bug that had accompanied Emma on the back seat of the Blazer since escaping the moonshiners’ compound exploded into a wild ball of bared teeth, flying saliva, and stiffened hackles.

Ben had never heard the dog so much as bark before now, and up until this point, he was convinced the loudest sounds she was capable of making occurred while she slept. Bajer had the crazed coyote by a few pounds but attacked with an intensity that would have given a black bear second thoughts about crossing her path. The sudden burst of commotion scattered the rest of the pack, and Ben seized the opportunity. Running to Emma and Brad’s side, he and Joel began picking off the coyotes one by one until they were satisfied the hungry pack’s intentions were no grander than escaping from the terrible mistake they’d made.

When the dust settled, Ben turned to find Bajer standing proudly over the body of her adversary, covered in blood and holding her left rear leg off the ground. The puncture holes in the loyal dog’s neck looked deep and oozed blood at an alarming rate, yet she stood fast. Ben had no doubt that she was fully ready to take on the next challenger if need be.

“Bajer!” Emma ran to her side and embraced the dog to the point Ben thought she might be doing more damage than good. He and Joel joined her at Bajer’s side, and Ben tried to assess the wounds.

“Come on, let’s get her back to camp.” Ben scooped her up in his arms and started running for the vehicles. They’d need to stop the bleeding right away if they could. Emma followed in tears as the boys brought up the rear. Joel kept his weapon trained in the general direction the pack had scattered, covering their rear, although Ben wasn’t worried about the coyotes returning anytime soon. He was too focused on saving this brave little dog to care anyway.

Bajer had come into their lives unexpectedly, and up until this point, her only contribution outside befriending Emma was consuming more than her share of food and water along the way. They hadn’t needed an extra mouth to feed then, but he would have given her their last scrap of food right now if it guaranteed her recovery. If not for Bajer’s heroics, this could have been Emma in his arms, but he tried not to think about that as he navigated the unruly landscape back to the truck.

Sandy saw them coming and hopped out of the Blazer. Moving to the back, she dropped the tailgate and frantically unzipped the first aid kit. By the time Ben had laid Bajer down, Sandy was ready with towels, antiseptic, and anything else she thought might be useful. The first priority was cleaning the wounds. Ben hadn’t thought about the possibility of rabies until now, but if that was the case, none of this would make a difference.

He put the idea out of his mind and assisted Sandy in cleaning the wounds. Emma held Bajer’s head and whispered encouraging words to her as he and Sandy washed out the bite marks on her neck. Ben inspected her hind leg as well but was relieved to discover the blood caked to her fur wasn’t hers. She must have pulled or strained something in the fight; it was a miracle she wasn’t in worse shape.

“We could hear the commotion from here. What happened?” Sandy asked but stayed on task cleaning the wounds.

“Coyotes, about seven of them,” Ben answered.

“Eight,” Brad corrected him.

Ben glanced at his youngest, mad at him for checking the trap, but at the same time, he was overjoyed his kids were safe and unscathed physically, although he couldn’t say the same for them emotionally, especially Emma. If Bajer didn’t pull through…

Sandy continued cleaning blood from the matted fur around Bajer’s neck, using their dwindling water supply to wash the wound and inspect the damage done by the coyotes. Ben helped Emma soothe the dog as Sandy applied hydrogen peroxide to the bite wound, causing Bajer to strain against them as they held her down. Using a piece of sterile gauze, Sandy dried the area, then applied an antibiotic.

“I think we should leave it uncovered for now if she can keep it clean. It might need to drain, and we should let it.” Sandy sat back.

“I’ll make sure it stays clean,” Emma promised.

“Here, give her this.” Sandy handed Emma one of the pills Julia said the dogs could take for pain.

Gunner paced nervously, periodically pushing his way in for a closer inspection and giving Bajer a concerned sniff. Ben looked around, still concerned that more wannabe thieves were lurking nearby. They’d been focused on Bajer for the last few minutes, and he didn’t want any surprises.

“I think that’s about all we can do here. Let’s get her moved up on the seat so we can get on the road.” Ben tried to move things along without being insensitive to his daughter or Bajer’s needs, but it wasn’t smart to stick around here, and there was nothing more they could do for the dog that required staying put.

“I’m sorry.” Brad put a hand on Bajer’s leg, but the apology seemed more for Emma’s benefit than the dog’s.

“It’s okay, Brad. It’s not your fault.” Emma let her brother off the hook but remained focused on Bajer as Ben and Joel gently maneuvered the dog inside the Blazer and onto the rear bench seat.

“Get going. We’ll be right behind you.” Ben encouraged Joel, Allie, and Brad to lead the way. “Stay on 50 until La Junta, then look for Route 10 toward Fort Garland. That’ll take us to 160. We’ll look for gas there or in Alamosa before we head over the mountains.”

Joel and Allie nodded and helped Brad and Gunner load into the Scrambler while Ben helped Sam into the Chevy and closed the tailgate. He did one more quick sweep of the place with his headlamp on the brightest setting and made sure they weren’t leaving anything behind. Sandy and Emma were already in the truck and ready to go when he finally slid in behind the wheel. He checked on Emma and Bajer in the back seat before putting the truck in gear. Emma gave him a solemn nod, and they were on their way.

This wasn’t how Ben envisioned breaking camp: in the darkness, like rats fleeing a sinking ship. It felt rushed and wrong, but he was fed up with all of it. He was tired of looking over his shoulder and feeling like they were never really safe, no matter what precautions they took. Durango would present its own challenges, of that he was sure, but he was putting an end to this craziness—today.

40

They cruised through the town of La Junta, Colorado, without so much as slowing down. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but that didn’t surprise Ben; it was just after four in the morning. He’d gotten his wish for an early start to the day, but not in the way he’d wanted. Joel and Allie pointed out a gas station, but Ben didn’t like the idea of stopping in the dark.

There were too many places to hide in the remnants of the town to make fueling up here worth the risk. They didn’t need gas yet anyway, and as far as the water situation was concerned, they could get that once they were well into the Rockies. This method of travel might not be popular with the others, but he’d maintain this hardline stance from here on out. Ben intended on treating the rest of the trip as an exfil situation from hostile territory because, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what it was.

An hour and a half later, pushing their luck at highway speeds along the narrow two-lane road, they spotted a sign for Waldenburg, Colorado, and were rewarded for their efforts by a US-160 route marker. Ben felt his anxiety begin to fade with the darkness as the horizon behind them slowly filled with the purples and reds of a new morning. A few minutes later, he rubbed his eyes and leaned over the wheel to get a better look.

“What is it?” Sandy asked.

“The Spanish Peaks. Yes, definitely.” Ben pointed to the two prominent mountains rising up in the distance.

West Spanish Peak, the taller of the two at just under fourteen thousand feet, stood like a beacon of hope, welcoming them back to familiar places. They still had a ways to go, but it was the closest thing he’d seen to home in a long time. They’d made the Rockies, something he doubted was possible during some of the darker times over the last few weeks. But here they were, together and healthy for the most part, but worn thin.

Sandy smiled as the rising sun painted the mountains in a golden hue, highlighting the jagged contours of the looming peaks.

“It’s beautiful.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“It sure is,” Ben agreed.

“Come in. Do you guys see that? Over.” Allie’s voice resonated with the excitement felt by all of them.

“We sure do. Over,” Sandy answered.

Ben calmed himself, remembering there was a very concerned girl in the back seat with a wounded dog and they still had a ways to go. Not that reaching Durango would ensure Bajer’s recovery by any means, but she’d fare better with the stable environment of the house than in the back of a bouncing truck. There was also the possibility of getting Bajer help in Durango. He knew of at least one person in the neighborhood who could fix her up properly—if they were still alive, that was.

Half an hour later, the heat of the day was already building. The Spanish Peaks were off to their south now, and the elevation was beginning to change drastically. The terrain was harder going here, putting a strain on the overloaded Blazer, but that was expected. Fort Garland or Alamosa was their best chance for fuel, and they’d need it to get over the mountains. But Ben had no intention of treating this like any other pit stop. One of them would post up on the outskirts of whatever place they ended up and keep watch. They were too close to fall victim to complacency.

Joel found the remains of a gas station just outside Alamosa, and after the customary perimeter check, they parked the trucks in the shade of a carwash and fueled them one at a time. Ben intended to help with the physical rigors of pumping gas out from the underground tank, but at Joel’s insistence, he and Allie handled the process. That was all right with him, though; the lack of sleep and fresh-brewed coffee had left him less than energetic. And it was just as well that he was the one to stand guard at the entrance to the parking lot.

Ben sat behind a flimsy metal sign that flexed in the gentle breeze while he scanned the road in both directions. The drugstore across the street was in decent shape, minus the missing windows and glass doors, and it struck him as a good place to hide if he were looking to ambush someone. He wasn’t sure if the movement he saw was trash fluttering in the wind or someone watching them, and he aimed his weapon in the store’s direction.

“How much longer?” Ben called out to the others.

“A couple more minutes,” Joel answered.

That wasn’t what Ben wanted to hear, but he understood they hadn’t been here that long. When they first arrived, Sam and Gunner took care of business under Brad’s watchful eye. Then, at Ben’s insistence, they loaded back into the trucks right away. Emma stayed in the Blazer with Bajer, who was surprisingly alert and seemed to be in good spirits, although he attributed that to the strong pain medication she was on.

Ben was trying not to drive them all crazy with his insistence that they keep things humming along at an accelerated pace today, but moving through a place quickly was the best way to avoid trouble. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but his goal was to make Durango without another incident. A lofty accomplishment, considering the world they were living in now, but he thought it was possible, if they could only keep moving.

He scanned the blown-out windows with his scope, finger on the trigger and ready for a fight. There would be no hesitation on his part if he thought for one second there was a threat. That had been the case for some time, but now more than ever, he felt justified to take any action that kept his family safe.

Eventually, Joel sounded off that they were wrapping things up, and Ben began to move back toward the trucks, never taking his eye off the looted store or the road running past them. They were 150 miles from home, and there was no way he was going to make a mistake now.

Ben took a position behind an abandoned sedan as the others finished stowing gear. He waited for Joel to pull out and head for the road, then intercepted them on their way out of the parking lot. Sandy was right behind them in the Blazer.

“We’ve got enough gas to get there now. No more stops until home.” Ben nodded at Joel and Allie, taking a second to rub Gunner’s head and wink at Brad. “Keep an eye on these two for me,” he joked.

“I will.” Brad pulled Gunner back into the Scrambler as Joel accelerated away.

“Did you want me to drive? I know you’re tired.” Sandy hung out the window as she crept toward him in the Blazer.

Ben had intended on driving the final leg but changed his mind. “If you don’t mind.”

He was tired, but that wasn’t the reason he decided to have her stay at the wheel. He wanted to be ready for anything, and he could do that better from the passenger seat with a weapon in his hand.

In the Chevy, Ben took a position out the open window on the doorsill like he had before and kept his carbine trained on the store across the street. As Sandy pulled out, he saw movement again and put a few rounds into the brick facade of the drugstore for good measure.

“What is it?” Sandy hit the gas, and they hightailed it out of there behind the Jeep.

Ben pulled himself back inside the truck. “I thought I saw something, but I’m not sure. Just letting whoever it was know we aren’t worth the trouble. I’m not taking any more chances.” He didn’t know if there was anyone inside the drugstore or not, but making his intentions clear with a few warning shots couldn’t hurt.

“Ben… Ben.” Sandy finally got him to look away from the building they were quickly leaving behind.

“Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to make it.” She put a hand on his knee.

Ben looked at Sandy, then at Emma, and realized he was starting to lose control and probably looked the part. They’d come so far and endured so much, but he had to admit, with the end in sight, he was more scared about what came next. Not because he enjoyed fighting for their lives on a daily basis but because, in some way, their situation was predictable. They never knew exactly what to expect, but there was some comfort in their established routine. And for as much as he wanted to reach Durango, it represented the unknown.

He had no idea what shape Durango or the house was in—or if the house was even there. But getting to the end of all this meant finding the answers to those questions and facing what might be an unpleasant truth. Up until now, he took a degree of comfort in his ignorance. After these last miles were conquered, there was nowhere left to go. No more breaking camp in search of a better place. Whatever they found in Durango was theirs to fix.

41

One by one, the once quaint mountain towns now reduced to shadows of their former selves passed by outside the truck. As the elevation and grade of the road increased, so did the anticipation of reaching home. Ben was encouraged by some of the sights they witnessed and disappointed by others.

They saw people moving about in places. A few storefronts had even been boarded up, the shops’ owners trying to reclaim some semblance of normality, although he couldn’t help but think that some of these towns were done for. They’d end up like the many abandoned gold mining settlements scattered throughout the San Juans, left for future generations to explore and speculate over their demise. In this case, the cause was apparent.

Ben watched the Scrambler slow down as they passed the place where he, Joel, and Allie had facilitated the RV’s fall from the cliff in order to clear the road. Brad stood up briefly, trying to get a better view of the carnage beyond the twisted guardrail. Ben thought back to that day and tried to wrap his head around everything that had happened between that moment and the present, but he couldn’t.

They went up and over Wolf Creek Pass, where Ben and the kids had enjoyed countless bluebird days, skiing and snowboarding the deep powder of the backcountry runs. Then came Pagosa Springs, the place where their journey had almost ended before it really started. The roadblock and angry mob were long gone, but the convenience store still stood, a testament to the owners, who were apparently still relying on fortified positions along the rooftop to keep order. He was encouraged to see a hand-painted sign out front. It listed an assortment of products for barter or trade, including eggs, batteries, kerosene, candles, alcohol, and honey, to name a few. But there was also a less comforting notice posted above a badly decomposed body on display, strung up on a telephone pole out by the road, warning would-be thieves to stay away or face similar consequences.

Ben was glad Emma didn’t notice the gruesome exhibit; she was busy tending to Bajer’s needs by holding her bowl up to her mouth and letting her take in some much-needed water. Ben was encouraged to see a spark in the dog’s eye that he feared wouldn’t return. Bajer wagged her tail when she noticed him looking in her direction.

Emma smiled. “I think she’s gonna be all right.”

Ben nodded back. “I think so, too.”

His medical training was limited, but he was fairly confident that Gunner and Sam would be jealous of the attention Bajer received from Emma for quite some time.

Bayfield was the last town located along Highway 160 before Durango, and it looked much as it did when they passed through a few weeks ago, minus the smoke and flames. Ben ignored the sparse little town for the most part; he was too focused on the road ahead and the realization of their efforts.

“Do you think we could swing by our house first? I need to know if there’s anything left,” Sandy asked.

Ben thought for a minute. He wasn’t in the mood for another delay but understood it was important to Sandy, and it would be to Allie as well. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Ben was afraid he knew what they’d find at Sandy’s place in town. He and Joel had barely made it out of there with Allie before leaving town, thanks to the gang members they encountered looting the neighborhood. But it was probably best to head there first. The girls could get closure if it was as bad as he expected, and it would save them from a trip at a later date.

They’d venture out from Durango Hills and the house eventually, but for the very near future, Ben had no plans of going anywhere once they reached their place. He had everything they needed at home to isolate themselves from the world if they chose to. Ben was looking forward to getting settled in and avoiding people for a while.

But maybe taking a brief trip into town before heading up to the house would benefit them all. It would give them a chance to assess the extent of the mess they were facing and get a sense of the overall situation in Durango. Ben had a pretty good guess of how things were going based on what they’d seen in their travels across the country, though, and he didn’t expect their town to be an exception.

Sandy got on the radio and let the kids know that they’d be stopping by her and Allie’s place first. Ben kept his head on a swivel as 160 drew them in toward the downtown area. The highway curved into the valley, and Ben got his first real glimpse of the Animas River’s clear waters and let out a sigh of relief. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest. One of his biggest fears was that the river would be polluted or possibly dry like the Arkansas River was below the reservoir. It was a little boney, but that was typical for the dryer summer months.

He checked his watch and saw that it was almost noon. The heat they’d come to expect at this time of day had failed to materialize so far. Ben wasn’t sure if the cooler temperatures were caused by the elevation change and the mountains or if the stifling heat they’d suffered through for so long had finally broken on its own, but it was a welcome change.

Sandy slowed down as the Jeep prepared to make the turn at Santa Rita Park and head to East Seventh Street the back way. Ben was glad Joel hadn’t chosen to drive through the center of town. He was as curious as any of them were, but they’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime. There was no need to push their luck and announce their presence by utilizing Main Street.

“It doesn’t feel real, does it?” Sandy glanced around wide-eyed.

“No, not really,” Ben remarked.

Sandy was right; the moment was surreal. Even Emma, who didn’t usually show much interest in the places they passed through, was on the edge of her seat. They were home. The Scrambler headed up the small incline toward Horse Gulch and East Eighth Street, giving them all their first look at the downtown area. Some houses and buildings remained, but most did not survive the fire that swept through these parts. Ben decided long ago that his shop was a loss and didn’t need to see it to confirm what he’d already accepted.

Sandy glanced over at Ben, biting her lip and doing her best to stave off the tears welling in her eyes. Things weren’t looking good so far. Six streets later, the Jeep made a wide left onto East Seventh, avoiding the blackened shell of a delivery truck and a large oak tree that was split down the middle and partially blocking the road.

Ben kept an eye out for the blue El Camino. He’d done a decent job of disabling the car by yanking the spark plug wires, flattening the front tires with his knife, and tossing the keys into the bushes, but it wasn’t enough to keep the gang from reclaiming the vehicle or the bodies of their fallen friends, apparently.

The Scrambler stopped, and Allie jumped out, making her way to the front yard of where their house once stood. Sandy put the Blazer in park and took a couple of deep breaths before opening her door.

Before she climbed out, Ben put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Ben felt his eyes welling up. He’d been able to keep them safe from the dangers they faced on the road, but he was powerless to do anything about what they faced here.

Sandy joined her daughter on the dead grass of their yard, where they held each other for a minute, staring at the desolation.

“Wait here.” Ben asked Emma to stay put before getting out of the truck and joining the girls and Joel on the lawn. He put his arm around Sandy and pulled her close, searching for a fitting condolence.

“I knew it. I guess I just had to see for myself,” Sandy said between sniffles.

“I think I’d feel worse if we were the only ones.” Allie looked up and down the street at the empty lots, taking in the devastation of the neighborhood.

Each home site was reduced to a scorched patch of earth and nothing more, aside from a few remaining fence sections or the occasional chimney, the bricks blackened but standing tall in defiance of the fires that had laid waste to the neighborhood.

Sandy forced a laugh. “I guess we’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Our house is your house.” Ben smiled and tried to think of something else to say that might lighten the mood, but before he could add anything, the clap of a distant gunshot rang out. They all jumped, turning almost in unison toward the sound.

“I know this is hard on you guys, but I think we should get going.” Ben didn’t want to rush them, but there was nothing here in this pile of rubble worth dying for.

“There’s nothing we can do here anyway.” Sandy shrugged and headed for the truck without looking back.

Her willingness to walk away from the wreckage of their former lives stood as a testament to the things they’d seen and experienced these last few weeks. It would take more than losing physical things to rattle her cage at this point; that much was obvious. Ben hoped he could be so resilient and brave if they found a similar situation waiting for them in Durango Hills.

They loaded up once more and stuck to the smaller streets and alleyways, weaving their way through town—or what was left of it. They passed a woman pushing a shopping cart loaded with what looked like trash, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Eventually, they picked up Florida Road and headed out of town through the canyon toward home. It was sad to see what had become of Durango. Ben hadn’t expected much based on the state of things when he left, but seeing it all firsthand hit hard.

Had they made a mistake, coming back here? Where else could they have gone? And if the house was gone, then what? Ed and Julia’s offer to stay with them in Indiana was looking better by the second.

Ben put the brakes on his runaway thoughts. There was no need to torment himself with what-ifs until they had answers. And they would soon enough. Durango Fire and Rescue Station 5 came into view on their right. The turn for their subdivision was just ahead. Ben noticed the big overhead doors were open, but the firetrucks were gone. Maybe they’d gotten out before the building collapsed in on itself. He didn’t remember noticing that on his way out of here, but he had plenty on his mind then.

Joel hung a left onto the dirt road that led up the mountain to their house. The subdivision of Durango Hills was a loose collection of homes scattered up the mountainside. In the winter, the nine-thousand-foot climb to their house required four-wheel drive with chains or aggressive tires, but the steep ascent was relatively easy in the summer, aside from the dust.

They were all on the edge of their seats when they turned onto Saddle Trail. Ben held his breath as he struggled to find the house through the thick stands of pines and aspens.

“Whoo-hoo!” Ben heard Joel shout and felt a wave of chills through his body, covering his arms and the back of his neck with goosebumps. The house was still there! Ben felt a little lightheaded and suddenly realized he was still holding his breath. The fact that they weren’t used to living at this elevation wasn’t helping.

Sandy reached over the console and took his hand, parking the Blazer behind Joel in the driveway. “We did it!”

Gunner was the first one out of the Jeep and ran to the front door of the house as if he’d just been outside for a minute and was ready to be let back in. Ben and the others stumbled out of the vehicles and made their way up onto the wrap-around porch. Everything looked just the way he’d left it, minus a dusting of ash. The firebreak he and Joel had worked so hard on creating had worked. Ben was tempted to pinch himself and make sure what he was seeing was real.

Joel fumbled with his keys excitedly and opened the door with a shaky hand.

“Wait a minute.” Ben held his rifle at the ready and went inside first. The familiar smell of home filled his nostrils as he swept and cleared the house with Joel’s help. Once they were certain they were alone, he and Joel joined the others, who had congregated on the front section of the deck, where Ben liked to enjoy his morning coffee.

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Sandy hugged Allie and was soon mobbed by the others, resulting in a group huddle.

“We really did it.” Ben repeated the words, his arms wrapped around the group, as the dogs forced their way into the center.

They had their work cut out for them, and with winter on the horizon, perhaps the hardest of times were still ahead, but none of that mattered right now. They were home, and for the time being, they were safe. Ben had made good on his promise to Jack, himself, and the kids. They had overcome outrageous obstacles, murderous thieves, crazy cultists, and everything else the country’s dark and dangerous roads could throw at them. Ben was at a loss for words, but there were none to convey how he felt right now.

After a couple of minutes of embracing one another and the dogs, the kids dispersed from the open deck and trickled into the house. Bajer moved slowly but so far was managing to keep up under Emma’s watchful eye. The kids’ conversation turned to gathering water from the spring located in the woods behind the house and the excitement of unloading the trucks one final time.

Ben and Sandy were content to stay put and take it all in, wandering to the railing at the edge of the deck for a better view. The deep blue sky was cloud-free, providing an ideal vista of the distant mountains. They could see New Mexico from here, as well as a few rooftops in the valley below.

They stood in silence, holding each other tightly, trying to absorb the magnitude of their achievement. Ben’s mind drifted in and out of the moment as he closed his eyes and inhaled the smells of home while the children’s laughter filled the house. He had so much to be grateful for.

This attack on the country would be written about in history books. Life had undergone a profound and irreversible shift. The future was a haze of uncertainty for both them and the nation, but they’d take each day as it came, meeting the challenges they encountered as a capable team of survivors and as a family, forging ahead together and making new lives for themselves.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bruno Miller is the author of the Dark Road series. He’s a military vet who likes to spend his downtime hanging out with his wife and kids, or getting in some range time. He believes in being prepared for any situation.

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The Dark Road series:

Breakdown

Escape

Resistance

Fallout

Extraction

Reckoning

Deception

Restitution

Desperation

Forsaken

Redemption

Dissension

Resignation

Sanctuary

Breakthrough

Cloverdale series:

Impact

Survival

Endurance

Confrontation

Dark Waters series:

Zero Hour

Dead Calm