Copyright © 2025 by Franklin Horton

Cover by Deranged Doctor Design

Editing by Felicia Sullivan

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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Franklin Horton lives and writes in the mountains of Southwestern Virginia. He received an English degree from Virginia Commonwealth University and has written over forty novels. He lives a hermit’s life on a remote mountaintop along the Clinch Mountain chain, splitting his day between writing and tinkering in his shop like one of his characters.

You can follow him on his website at franklinhorton.com.

While you’re there please sign up for his mailing list for updates, event schedule, book recommendations, and discounts. He’s also active on social media so follow him on Facebook or Instagram to keep up with the latest releases.

ALSO BY FRANKLIN HORTON

The Borrowed World Series

The Borrowed World

Ashes of the Unspeakable

Legion of Despair

No Time For Mourning

Valley of Vengeance

Switched On

The Ungovernable

Blood And Banjos

Resurgent

The Reset Roadhouse

The Endarkened

The Locker Nine Series

Locker Nine

Grace Under Fire

Compound Fracture

Blood Bought

The Mad Mick Series

The Mad Mick

Masters of Mayhem

Brutal Business

Northern Sun

Punching Tickets

Ultraviolent

The Death Dealer’s Manual

American Oligarch

Shift Point

Dislocated

Hostile Takeover

The Ty Stone Series

Hard Trauma

Child With No Name

Hate Box

The Way of Dan Series

Burning Down Boise

The Path of Water

Boondock Pilgrims

The Oracle

Stand-Alone Novels

Random Acts

1

Dan eyed the ground moving beneath them with growing apprehension. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m not sure about anything,” Holly said. “I haven’t been since the lights went out.”

Dan blanched. “That’s not exactly comforting. I was hoping you’d say something encouraging.”

“Well, I’m not here to comfort you but I believe this is a risk we have to take.”

Dan looked at Krin, holding her backpack with a white-knuckle grip. “You good with this?”

Despite appearing uncertain, she nodded. “I don’t know what else to do.”

They were riding across the Midwest on the hardened, EMP-resistant train that the government was using to move relief supplies around the country. They assumed the train would slow to half-speed when it reached the bridge over the Salt Creek. It had slowed at nearly every narrow bridge they’d encountered thus far, the train operators wary of any debris that might have been deposited on the tracks by spring flooding. Once the train was over the bridge it would begin accelerating again. A few minutes later they would be on the grounds of Fort Leavenworth if they didn’t jump ship.

They’d known for days this moment was coming and had discussed it up one side and down the other. It was simply too risky to ride the train onto the military base. They had no way of knowing if it was going to stop there or not, but what if it did? If they were spotted, there would be no escape. They’d be trapped, and who knew what happened after that? Would they be locked up? Shot on sight as trespassers? No one wanted to find out.

Dan watched his handheld GPS, shielding it with his jacket to make sure none of the other travelers on the train saw him using an electronic device. Most people didn’t have them because of the EMP, but Dan had carried this one all the way from Kyle Cross’ underground home in the Sawtooth Range. Aside from their weapons, the GPS was one of their most critical pieces of gear. The maps it contained were crucial for safely navigating the distance between wherever they were at the time and their final destination in East Tennessee

When he was done studying the map, Dan hung the GPS’s lanyard around his neck and tucked the device back inside his shirt. “We’re getting close. We need to get into position if we’re going to do this.”

They had figured out by studying previous bridges that there wasn’t enough time for them to all jump from the same ladder. They would end up scattered out over too long a distance if each of them had to descend the ladder and jump from the train one at a time. They opted to split up, with each of them climbing down the ladder on a separate train car. Holly would jump first. That would be the signal for Dan and Krin to jump from their own ladders. It was understood that anyone who panicked and didn’t jump would miss their window of opportunity. Once the train got past the bridge and sped up again, there would be no second chance.

Each of the group slipped on their packs and spread out, making their way to separate rail cars before climbing down their individual ladder. They hung their rifles around their necks and made sure there were no loose straps to snag and pull them under the moving train. It was loud, windy, and the train jolted violently as it clattered down the tracks. Hanging from those ladders, each of them felt vulnerable and precarious, contemplating the action they were about to take and wondering if they would survive it. They’d all seen the horrific deaths and injuries suffered by people who botched their exit from the train.

Finally, the train began to slow as it approached the narrow bridge over Salt Creek. Once Holly’s train car had passed over the bridge, she jumped without hesitation. Dan saw her hit the ground and roll in the grass, but he didn’t have time to process the quality of her landing before the moment of his own jump was upon him. There was no time for thought or planning where he’d land. There was only time to act.

Dan shoved away from the ladder and tucked into a roll when his feet hit the ground, just as Holly had advised them to do. It was nothing like he expected. He’d convinced himself it would be like hopping off a ride on the playground when he was a kid. Maybe leaping off a swing or shooting off the end of a slide. The reality was more like a rough parachute landing.

As he tumbled, Dan’s heavy pack softened the impact against the hard ground, but that was only a small blessing. He fought to hold onto his rifle and keep it from being bent, broken, or jammed full of dirt. He rolled over rocks and snapped off saplings. He cursed, yelled, and cried out in pain before he came to a stop. No sooner had Dan’s body mercifully come to a halt than Krin piled into him like a bowling ball striking a pin. Her elbow caught Dan in the face and the heel of one boot struck him in the groin.

His eyes watering, Dan bellowed and cursed. He cradled his nose with one hand and his rattled cojones with the other. “Jesus, Krin, I thought it was going to be the landing that killed me, not you. I don’t know whether to cry or puke.”

“Sorry, dude. It wasn’t exactly fun for me either. Remind me again whose idea was to jump off a moving train?”

Holly limped up to her two tangled friends. “Are you guys okay?”

Dan was cupping both his face and groin in obvious discomfort. “I think she scrambled my eggs and rattled my brains. So much for my movie star good looks.”

“It’ll give you character,” Krin said, trying to sit up but tangled up with Dan.

“The last thing he needs is more character,” Holly said. “He’s hard enough to live with already.”

Deciding that the pain in his groin was overpowering the pain in his face, Dan moved a hand from his nose and applied both to his aching balls. He winced. “Just as I was planning to retire and put myself out to stud.”

“Geez.” Holly rolled her eyes and worked to disentangle the two.

The last train car rattled past them, a group of their fellow travelers standing on the roof and watching them. Dan wondered how big a mistake those people were making by remaining on the train. He assumed they might be thinking the same of him and his friends. Maybe they didn’t know that Fort Leavenworth was ahead of them. They might not even care. Maybe they weren’t as paranoid as Dan and his traveling companions, or as experienced in the ways of this new world they found themselves navigating.

“Hello?!”

It was an unfamiliar and desperate voice containing both urgency and fear. Dan yanked himself free of Krin and awkwardly shoved himself up from the ground to see who was speaking. He tried to focus on the man, but his eyes were bleary and watering from the blow to his nose.

Holly reacted instantly, as her years of law enforcement training had conditioned her to do. She’d propped her rifle against her pack while she helped her friends, but she dropped a hand to her hip and drew her handgun. She had it up and leveled on the man in a fraction of a second. “Stop right there and do not come any closer!”

A man in a battered cowboy hat stood across the tracks from them. He had long hair and wore a beard that dropped down to his chest. The beard and distance made it tough to ascertain his age. He could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty. His voice quavering, he repeated his plea. “I need help.”

Holly adjusted her grip on the handgun, staring down her sights at the man. “Where did you come from? Are you following us?”

The man pointed at the tracks with a trembling hand. “The train. I got off the train.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. “So you did follow us?”

“I didn’t,” the man protested. “I didn’t know you jumped off the train until it was gone and I saw you all over here. My girlfriend jumped with me, but she’s hurt…bad. I need help.”

Holly took her eyes off him briefly to search the immediate area, but didn’t see another person. “Where is she?”

The man pointed up the tracks. “Up there. I think she landed wrong.”

“Dan, you go check.”

Dan didn’t question Holly’s orders. He shrugged off his pack and gave his rifle a once-over to confirm it hadn’t been damaged in his dismount. “Where is she?”

The bearded man started to move. “I’ll show you.”

“No!” Holly barked. “You stay right there!”

The man clenched his hands. “She needs help.”

Holly ignored him. “Dan, go!”

Dan climbed up the gravel railbed and advanced in the direction the train had gone. Despite not being the most safety conscious member of their party, Dan wasn’t an idiot. His rifle was shouldered, off Safe, and ready to fire if anything unfriendly presented itself. In fact he was so pissed off and hurting that he’d probably shoot at anything that surprised him, whether it was friendly or not.

“If you weren’t following us, why did you get off the train?” Holly demanded.

“Hell, lady, only a damn idiot would ride a train onto a military base uninvited. There’s no way that story has a happy ending.”

“How did you know we were near the base? No one else on the train seemed to know or care.”

“I can read a damn map. It’s in my pocket and I can show you if you don’t believe me. Can we just go check on my girlfriend?”

“My friend is looking for her now. You and I are going to stay here and chat until he finds her.”

“We’re wasting time!” The man shot a worried glance in Dan’s direction. He wrung his hands and the corners of his mouth turned down, quivering. “She needs help. It’s bad.”

“Krin?” Holly said without taking her eyes off the man.

Krin was sitting on the ground, paralyzed by the tension of the situation. She often got like that when the adrenaline began flowing. She snapped out of her spell. “Yes?”

“What’s Dan doing now?” Holly didn’t want to take her eyes off the stranger long enough to look in Dan’s direction.

“He’s about thirty yards up the tracks. He’s standing still and looking at something to his right. Now he’s stepping off the tracks.”

“That’s her,” the man choked out. “That’s where she is.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jinks.”

Holly had her eyes locked on the man in front of her. “I didn’t notice you on the train, Jinks, and there weren’t many of us. How did I miss you?”

Jinks grew angry at the question. “Was there some reason I was supposed to check in with you? Were you in charge or something? Common sense told us to lay low and stay away from other people.” He shook his head in disgust. “Listen, I need to check on my girlfriend. I thought you guys might be able to help.”

“Found her!” Dan called.

Holly gestured up the tracks with the barrel of her handgun. “Let’s go, Jinks. You first.”

“What do you want me to do?” Krin asked.

“Hold your rifle on this guy while I transition to my rifle. If he makes any sudden move, shoot him.”

Krin shouldered her rifle, flicked off the safety, and aimed at the man’s chest. While a year ago this would have been an awkward request for her, she was more experienced now. She’d been tempered by hardship and loss.

Holly smoothly holstered her handgun and grabbed her rifle from her pack. She dropped the sling around her neck and flipped the safety off. The movement illuminated her motion-activated optic and a red dot with crosshairs overlaid Jinks’ chest.

“Krin, you stay back and guard the gear in case this is some kind of trap. Keep your rifle ready to fire and stay alert.”

“Can I move now?” Jinks asked. “Can we see about my girlfriend?”

Holly nodded and Jinks set off up the tracks at a fast clip. Holly stayed a safe distance behind him, her rifle trained on his back. Dan was crouched in the weeds, examining something.

Holly called to him. “What’s the situation?”

“I think she’s dead.”

A sob erupted from Jinks’ chest and he picked up the pace, running and dropping to his knees beside Dan. Holly kept moving, scanning her surroundings for any sign of more people. The field where they stood had been cleared of trees long ago and they were very exposed. If this was a trap, there wouldn’t be many options for cover or retreat.

Holly joined the two men, stopping beyond Jinks’ reach, but close enough to see the body in the weeds. She had seen enough dead bodies in her day that the sight of them no longer bothered her. They were one component of a crime or accident scene, the most significant piece of evidence. While she understood that the body belonged to a person who most likely had family and friends, hopes and dreams, that was not something she could allow into her head in the moment. Maintaining that emotional distance was critical to processing a scene, and even though she wasn’t on the job, she couldn’t turn off that part of her brain.

The dead woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties and the acute angle of her head suggested a broken neck. Two backpacks lay nearby, along with a soft guitar case with a short shotgun resting on it. The woman wore expensive clothing, though it clearly had some miles on it—a Patagonia down jacket over a stained turtleneck sweater, an Osprey pack, Salomon hiking boots, an REI cap, and L.L. Bean pants.

Like everyone else on the road, what or who the lady might have been the moment before was irrelevant. Now there were crescents of dirt beneath her fingernails and smudges on her cheeks. Her hair was dirtier than she’d ever have let it get back in the old world. The same was true of her clothing.

The dead woman reminded Holly of hundreds of other people she’d seen since leaving Kyle Cross’s bunker, people who had once been able to afford nice things. The EMP, or whatever it had been, had leveled the playing field. Anyone caught out in the world by this event was in the same boat as everyone else, with few exceptions. For Holly’s group, Kyle Cross’s bunker had made them one of the exceptions. They had fared better than most. This lady did not appear to have been so lucky.

Jinks was on his knees, a hand on the dead woman’s shoulder. He rocked and cried in a low, mewling tone. One dirty hand covered his mouth, as if trying to hold back the sounds coming from his wounded core. The little of his face that was exposed through the beard and long hair was red and tear streaked.

“What was her name?” Holly asked.

“Alicia,” he sobbed.

Dan stared at the dead woman with the same cold, impassive look that Holly had. “You said she needed help. Was she alive when you came over there to talk to us?”

Jinks threw his hands out in frustration. “I think so. She was…making noise or something. Like she was trying to talk to me. I was afraid to move her.”

Holly saw where Dan was going with this. “That kind of injury usually kills instantly. That’s why my friend is asking. It looks like she died on impact.”

Dan tried to be as diplomatic as he could, which wasn’t saying much. “I touched her neck looking for a pulse. She was kind of cool to the touch.”

“Well, it’s freaking cold out here!” Jinks exploded.

“We’re just trying to figure out what happened.” Holly’s tone was soothing, but authoritative.

Jinks spoke slowly, annunciating each word. “I’m telling you she was making some kind of noise.”

Dan and Holly exchanged a glance, uncertain of what to make of Jinks’ insistence that this girl had been alive only moments earlier. That didn’t seem likely. Perhaps it had been irrational hope, a man convincing himself that there was a chance his girlfriend could survive such a devastating injury.

“She was on the train with you?” Holly asked. “I don’t recognize her.”

Jinks waved a hand in irritation. “I don’t know what to tell you. Not my damn fault if you weren’t paying attention.”

Dan sighed, got to his feet, and stepped back from the body. “Where were you guys riding? I never noticed you either, come to think of it.”

“Toward the front. We were two of the first people to jump the train. There’s a platform on the back of the cars and we set up camp on one of them. Strung a tarp. Stayed right there the whole time and didn’t venture out. We didn’t see any benefit to mixing with other people. That’s just asking for trouble.”

Again, Holly and Dan looked at each other. They’d seen several people with tarps strung in the manner Jinks was describing and it was true that most of those people hadn’t ventured off those platforms. To do so was to risk losing those prime positions out of the wind to other travelers. It was a story Dan and Holly could neither confirm nor disprove, yet they both felt a gnawing uncertainty about Jinks and his story. On the other hand, however, what was their obligation here? What could they do if he was lying?

Holly had kept her rifle trained on him up until this point, and she finally lowered it. She maintained her grip on the weapon, ready to snap it up and fire in an instant if the situation changed. “Where were you two headed?”

Jinks sniffled and dragged the back of a hand across his runny nose. “Nashville. I lived there. Alicia and I met on the road a while back. She got separated from her people, so we stuck together for safety. She was from South Carolina, but she was going to join me in Nashville until she figured out her next move.” Jinks started crying again, his pain rekindled.

Dan hated to watch people cry, especially other men. Desperate for a distraction, he pointed to the guitar in the nylon gig bag. “That yours?”

Holly looked at Dan like he was an idiot. Did he seriously expect that asking Jinks about his guitar was going to distract him from the loss of his girlfriend?

Jinks looked back to see what Dan was pointing at, then nodded, his face wracked by grief. “Yeah, I’m a musician and I was touring the Pacific Northwest when the lights went out. I assumed things might get back to normal eventually, so I spent the winter there with friends, but the lights never came back on. I’d heard rumors about the train, and though I was sure it would be risky, Oregon wasn’t home. I’m a Southern boy and the people back there are…different.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s not home. So you’re a solo act?”

Jinks rolled back off his knees until he was sitting on the ground. He kept his knees in the air and rested his arms on them. He pressed a hand to each side of his head, as if relying on that pressure to keep his head from flying into a million pieces. “I’m a singer-songwriter. I’m not Tom T. Hall or J.J. Cale, but I’ve had some success at it. It keeps me in guitar strings, liquor, and cigarettes.”

The news that Jinks was a singer-songwriter made Dan feel like he’d stepped into a pool of cold water. It was one of those times where life blindsided him and left him staggering for a moment. It was the recollection of an event so significant that he couldn’t believe he’d ever let it slip from his mind, even for a moment. Something both profound and life altering. Something that had left him different than the person he’d been before.

The news that Jinks was a singer-songwriter reminded Dan of Carl, his friend in Boise who’d also been a singer-songwriter. The friend whose death had brought him out west in the first place. The friend whose passing had inadvertently led to this entire adventure in Idaho with Holly and the other people he’d met along the way.

For a moment, Dan couldn’t stop himself from imagining a different scenario. One where Carl had survived the EMP and set off on a cross-country journey to return to Tennessee, just like Jinks was doing now. It was a scenario where Dan never came to Idaho and never met Holly, one where he might be safely weathering the EMP in the family home in Tennessee with his kids at his side. It was a scenario where Carl showed up at his house one day with a guitar and a bottle of Jim Beam to tell him about the great adventure he’d just had. They would spend the evening telling stories and laughing around a campfire like planets orbiting the sun in a tiny and familiar solar system.

That train of thought was so alluring and disorienting it took Dan a moment to snap himself out of it. So much had happened since he left home he sometimes had a hard time accepting that Carl was dead. He wanted to think it was all just a bad dream he’d wake up from one day, but so far he hadn’t.

Dan got to his feet and slung his rifle onto his shoulder. While seeing some of Carl in this man made him lower his guard, he was cognizant that something felt off about the whole situation with this dead girl. They might never know the answer though. It was only one loose and untethered thread among the millions floating around this new world.

“I’m Dan. The dangerous one over there is Holly. That’s Krin back there with our gear. We’re making our way from Idaho to East Tennessee.”

Jinks was no longer crying. He stared intensely at Alicia’s body, as if he could resurrect her through sheer force of will. His voice was flat when he spoke. “What were you doing in Idaho, Dan? You have the same shitty luck I did?”

“I guess so. I was there to settle a friend’s estate. He got involved with some bad people and they killed him. He…wasn’t the best judge of character. I met Holly through that incident, then we met Krin along the way. We all wintered together in the Sawtooth Range, then decided we’d make a break for it since the weather was getting warmer.” Dan hesitated, then added the detail that had prompted him to soften his demeanor and open up. “My friend who died in Boise was also a singer-songwriter.”

Jinks gave Dan a curious look. “Really? What was his name?”

“I doubt you knew him.”

“I might have. It’s a small community and I’ve been doing this twenty years. You meet a lot of folks.”

Even with the time that had passed, speaking the name of his dead friend carried a certain gravity for Dan. Repeating it was like trying to raise a muddy anchor from the dark depths. It fought him. “Carl Kelly.”

Jinks smiled sadly. “I met Carl.”

Holly offered a dismissive huff, instantly even more suspicious than she’d been minutes ago. “Anyone could say that, Dan. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Jinks ignored the fact that Holly was calling him a liar right to his face. “Carl and I weren’t friends or anything, but we crossed paths a couple of times on the road. We played a small festival together in Plano, Texas, back in the late 90s. There were a lot of musicians, but I remember hanging out with him, Billy Joe Shaver, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Townes Van Zandt. I felt like a stupid kid in the presence of songwriter royalty, but Carl didn’t give a shit who was in the room. He talked to those guys like they’d been friends for decades.”

Dan’s smile was pain reflected in the warmth of memory, a craggy stone warmed by sunlight. “Carl didn’t know a stranger.”

“I met him for the second time a decade later at that Rhythm & Roots festival in Bristol, on the Virginia-Tennessee line. Carl recognized me and greeted me like an old friend. He was a big storyteller and most of them were about how much his ex-wives hated him.”

Dan burst out laughing. “Yeah, you met him alright. I heard all those stories and it’s the damn truth. They all hated him with a passion by the time their love soured.”

Holly blew out a breath and reluctantly allowed her rifle to hang from the sling in front of her body. “Okay, Jinks, so you might be legit. Did you have a plan for getting past Fort Leavenworth? Because we were kind of winging it.”

Jinx gestured at the broad Missouri River running alongside the tracks. “That’ll take us a far piece. That was my plan.”

“You were going to swim it?” Holly asked. “Or you got some water wings in that backpack?”

Dan frowned at her aggressive sarcasm. “Holly, give the guy a break. He just lost his girlfriend.”

Jinks’ face clouded. “Alicia and I were going to find a boat once we got off the train. That was our next step.”

“Oh, so you’re going to steal one,” Holly said.

Jinks didn’t try to correct her. “We discussed leaving a note. I’d even be willing to trade for one, but it ain’t safe to approach a house these days. Most people will shoot at a stranger on sight. That doesn’t leave a man many options.”

Dan nodded, having experienced that same greeting firsthand. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

Holly shot Dan a look. “Of course it does. Everything sounds reasonable to you. Somebody can throw out the most harebrained scheme in the world and you stand there with a joint hanging out of your mouth and a beer in your hand, nodding and saying it sounds reasonable. You are not the voice of reason here, Dan. If anything, it’s the opposite. You signing off on a plan instantly makes me question it.”

Dan looked offended. “Then what’s your plan, Betty Badass? The GPS says we have about 850 more miles to go. Are we going to hold hands and skip those miles? I won’t think we can all fit on your broom.”

Holly scowled at Dan. “No, we’re not going to skip. I guess we’re going to…look for a boat.”

“So just take it?” Dan teased. “As in stealing?”

“Yes, Dan, we might be forced to take it, but we are going to leave a note. As we’ve learned already, it’s not safe to approach people even if you have good intentions. People have learned to shoot first and ask questions later. Maybe we’ll even find some abandoned boat on the river somewhere.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like the same damn thing Jinks just said.”

Jinks cleared his throat, coughed, and spat. “Ya’ll been asking all the questions so far. Mind if I ask one now?”

Dan and Holly exchanged glances, shrugged, and looked at Jinks expectantly.

“Think you all might be able to help me bury my girlfriend?”

2

The sandy soil of the river bottom yielded easily to the four people digging with sticks and cooking pots. In two hours they had a hole three feet deep, which they determined was deep enough since they were all tired and blistered from the effort. Digging the grave had been the easy part; the worst would be moving the body.

No one cared for the feeling of hefting the deadest of dead weights. They’d all done it, and everyone abhorred touching the departed, even if it was to simply lift them by their clothing or drag them across the floor. As a species, humans were universally repulsed by the smells that bloomed from the body and clothing when the dead were disturbed. It was a reaction that was both animalistic and primal, the earliest of admonitions programmed into humans’ genetic code—the reminder that they should not kill one another. A reminder humans found impossible to follow.

“We’ll get the body if you want,” Dan offered. Although he wasn’t particularly excited about doing it, he understood it would be easier for someone with no emotional attachment to the corpse. He couldn’t imagine having to drag the body of his wife to the grave and rolling her in. “We can put her in her sleeping bag and bring her over.”

Jinks wiped a tear from his cheek with the back of a dirty hand. “I appreciate that, Dan. I was dreading it. I don’t want my last memory of touching her to be when she was…like that.”

Holly brushed her hands together to remove some of the sand. “I’ll help you, Dan.”

Krin didn’t volunteer. The wound of losing her boyfriend Bird was too fresh. She wanted no part of a dead body. She didn’t even want to see it.

While Krin and Jinks stood at the graveside, Dan and Holly walked back down the tracks to Alicia’s body. When they reached it, Holly opened Alicia’s pack and removed her sleeping bag, tossing it to Dan. He unhooked the straps that kept it rolled up, then unzipped it, laying it out on the ground near the body. Dan glanced at Holly to see if she was ready to help roll the body but found her staring at something she’d found in Alicia’s pack.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Let’s get this over with.”

Holly held up a clear plastic baggie containing several small items. “I guess these are her valuables. Her identification is in here, along with a watch and a few other personal items. There are some rings and one of them looks like a wedding ring.”

Dan lowered his voice as if Jinks was standing there alongside them. “You’re stealing her stuff? Right in front of her boyfriend?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “I’m not stealing it! After this mess is over, her family will want to know what happened to her. Someone will have to make that notification and I’ve done it more times than I care to think about. If this really is a wedding ring, she could have a husband out there. Kids.”

“Don’t you think Jinks should be the one to notify them? She’s his girlfriend.”

Holly crinkled her nose. She wasn’t buying it. “How much of a girlfriend was she really? Jinks met this woman on the road and was with her for a few weeks at the most. How much allegiance do you think he has to her? How much effort do you think he’ll put into finding her family once things are back to normal?”

Dan glanced back down the tracks to make sure Jinks wasn’t watching them, but he was engaged in conversation with Krin. “He looked all broke up about it to me. He can’t stop crying and snotting.”

“Yeah, but he could just as easily forget it. He could meet another woman along the road and forget all about Alicia. Hell, he could decide it’s too much trouble and just ignore the responsibility entirely. Most people are going to want to put this whole experience behind them and I can understand that. However, I also understand how important it is for the family to have closure. I won’t forget about this responsibility.”

Dan stared at the dead body, both sad for this woman and sad that the rest of them were having to deal with what remained left behind. “You can’t take responsibility for every dead person we come across.”

Holly pointed down the tracks to where her pack sat. “I haven’t counted them, but I probably have two dozen licenses stuck in my pack, Dan. People just like this. People who died in some pitiful way in some godforsaken place. It’s a small thing, but it’s my thing. If I live through this, I’m going to let their families know what happened to them.”

Dan blew out a breath. “Shit, I had no idea.”

Holly flung her arms out. “I saw no point in telling you. It doesn’t exactly make for cheerful pillow talk.”

The thought of that distracted Dan for a second. “I’d kill for a pillow.”

Holly cut him a stern look. “Really, Dan?”

Dan gave the dead woman a sheepish look. “Okay, poor timing. Sorry about that.” He gestured at the bag of personal effects Holly was holding. “You do what you need to do. Are you going to tell Jinks that you’re taking on this responsibility and he can forget about it?”

Holly shoved the baggie into her jacket pocket and closed Alicia’s pack. “I’d prefer we just keep quiet about it. I don’t want him to get all weird or anything.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “The way I did?”

“Probably not the same way. No one does weird quite like you do.”

Although Dan wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, he let it pass. Their conversation fell off as they dealt with the task at hand. They made only the most basic statements as they moved the body onto the sleeping bag. Dan felt a rising nausea from the sounds, smells, and feel of the body. He’d been exposed to more death than most of the people he knew and had even caused his fair share of deaths, but he’d not yet become immune to this reaction. If Holly felt any of those same sensations, she didn’t let it show. She worked with a clinical detachment, occasionally pausing to examine some aspect of the corpse that Dan had no interest in seeing.

Once they had the body moved, Dan went to zip up the sleeping bag, but Holly held up a hand to pause him for a second.

“What? You think you’re back on the job again, working some crime scene?”

“One second. I’m looking at something.”

Dan huffed out a frustrated breath. Holly couldn’t be rushed or reasoned with when she was in cop mode. He’d seen it numerous times during their journey. Dan had never been a cop, so he didn’t understand that way of thinking, but Holly was never able to fully put the job behind her.

“Okay,” she announced, zipping the sleeping bag up and wiping her hands on her pants.

Dan took the top of the bag and Holly took the other end. Together they carried the sleeping bag like a stretcher. Alicia wasn’t heavy, but the nylon bag kept slipping from their hands and it took a lot of effort to get the body down the tracks. Several times they had to lower it to the ground to adjust their grip. By the time they reached the rest of the group, their fingers were cramping from the exertion. They did their best to respectfully place Alicia into the shallow grave they’d carved into this cold and unfamiliar place.

Jinks was barely maintaining, but he wasn’t crying any longer. He paced back and forth a bit, then stopped to roll a cigarette from a pouch of tobacco. The ritual calmed him some.

“You…wanna say anything?” Dan asked Jinks.

Jinks finished rolling the cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it with a butane lighter. He shook his head. “I’ve already said everything I needed to say. I’ve been talking to her in my head ever since you told me she was dead.”

“Good enough.” Holly pointed back up the tracks. “What about her gear?”

Jinks plucked the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled thick smoke. “There’s a thing or two, personal stuff, I’d like to keep to remember her by. We weren’t together long, but it doesn’t take long to get to know someone under these circumstances. There’s a lot of time to talk.”

“That’s a fact,” Krin said.

Jinks looked at her. “You ladies might see if she has anything you can use. She had some clothes and stuff.”

Working together using their hands, a pot lid, and pieces of driftwood, they raked the dirt overtop Alicia’s body. When they were done, Holly marked the grave with river rocks arranged in the shape of a cross. Jinks watched her without comment, then headed up the track to get Alicia’s pack. Before he came back, he spent a moment going through it off to himself. He kept a few things, though it was too far away for anyone to tell what he took. Holly was watching, and Dan was watching Holly, trying to follow her thought process.

Jinks returned with the pack, spread his coat on the ground, then gently dumped the contents of the pack so Krin and Holly could pick through them for anything they might need. Holly took nothing; Krin took several items of clothing, a hair tie, and a partial tube of toothpaste. No one had any comment, but Dan cringed inwardly at the thought of using a dead woman’s toothpaste. It seemed a silly thing to be put off by, as if her death had retroactively contaminated something she’d used in such a personal way. Still, Dan would prefer fuzzy yellow teeth to the alternative.

When Krin was done, Jinks repacked Alicia’s gear, then hung the pack from a branch on a nearby tree. “Maybe someone else will find that and make use of what’s left.”

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at the pack hanging from the tree.

When Dan could stand it no longer he asked, “So what’s next for you, Jinks?”

Jinks picked his coat up off the ground, shook it out, then pulled it back on. “I was hoping I might be able to tag along with you guys for a while. Things are sketchy out there, which is why Alicia and I paired up in the first place. Besides, my head is in a dark place right now and I’d prefer to not be alone if I have a say in the matter. I know it’s kind of sudden, but what do you think?”

Dan and Krin turned to Holly simultaneously. They tended to defer to her on all matters relating to their personal security. She had better judgment in that department than either of them.

Holly studied Jinks. “I’m assuming you’re armed? I saw a shotgun earlier.”

Jinks grinned sadly. “In happier times I preferred to say I was armed with a guitar and a winning smile.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “God, you sound like Dan. I’m not sure I can stand two of you.”

Jinks pointed toward his nearby guitar case and the weapon lying on top of it. “That’s my shotgun over there. It’s one of those little stubby ones that’s closer to a pistol, but it’s all I can carry with a pack and a guitar case.”

“Okay, but having a shotgun and being willing to use it are two different things,” said Holly. “We’ve had some serious run-ins on the road and had to fight our way out of them. Are you going to be able to hold up your end if we get in a scrap?”

Jinks grew more serious. “Because I flew out west from Nashville, I didn’t have any weapons on me when I got there.”

“Other than your guitar and winning smile?” Holly quipped.

Jinks’ smile was tinged with sadness. “Exactly. I was staying in a hotel when the lights went out. It was close to the bar I was playing at, so it wasn’t exactly in the best part of town. There was all kinds of bad stuff going down on the streets and I was getting nervous, so I started looking for a way to defend myself. I stole a knife from the hotel kitchen, and it was a good thing because later that day a man with a pistol tried to rob me and take my guitar. I defended myself with the knife and came out on top, so I ended up with the guy’s handgun. The next time someone tried to rob me, he came at me with a shotgun.” Jinks pointed at the weapon lying nearby. “You can see how that ended.”

“You must be doing something right,” said Dan.

“Or you’re lucky,” Holly countered. “Either way, it sounds like you have a realistic attitude about the state of things. We run into people who think it’s all hugs and kumbaya out there. They couldn’t be more wrong.”

Jinks shrugged. “Hell, if it’s just luck, I’ll take it. I’m not some kind of badass, I’m just a country boy. As far as being realistic about things, I don’t think there’s anyone more realistic than a working musician. When you sit on that stage singing your heart out for ten dollars and two beers that’s a stiff shot of reality.”

Dan stretched, then winced when his back spasmed. “How about we find a boat and get the hell out of here? Between digging a grave and jumping off a train, I’m feeling pretty jacked up. I need to sit for a while.”

Holly pulled on her pack and slung her rifle around her neck. She winked at Dan. “Must suck getting old, Grandpa.”

“Well, it’s offset by greater wisdom and skills in the sack. I’m practically at the height of my powers.”

Both Krin and Holly burst into laughter, then immediately felt bad about it when they caught Jinks’ eye and the laughter trickled to a stop.

Jinks shook his head. “Nah, enjoy those moments when you can forget about the suffering in the world. If we can’t rise above the pain sometimes, there’s no reason to keep going.”

Whether she was overcome by Jinks’ sentiment or by a burst of hippie-chick euphoria, Krin stepped over and gave Jinks a big hug. He was taken aback at first then laid a hand across Krin’s shoulders and patted her on the back.

Krin stepped back. “I thought you needed that.”

Jinks blushed. “I reckon I did.” Even so, he appeared awkward in the aftermath of it. He hurried to put on his pack, slung the shortened shotgun around his neck, then picked up his guitar case.

Dan studied Jinks’ loadout. “That’s an awkward setup.”

“That’s why I was on the train. I may look cool with all this stuff, but it’s no fun to carry.”

Holly snorted. “Geez, you sound like Dan again. Not sure we’ll be able to find a big enough boat to hold both your egos. We might need a barge or something.”

Dan patted Jinks on the shoulder. “Don’t let her dim your flame, man. Holly is just jealous because some of us project a radiant glow out into the world.” He side-eyed Holly. “Others have more of a putrid demeanor.”

They headed toward the river, then split up to search the riverbank for a boat. Surprisingly, it didn’t take them long to find the first one. In this part of the country, mostly rural farmland, people were generally trusting. They felt comfortable leaving their cheap boats alongside the river for convenience. It was easier than having to haul them each time they wanted to go fishing. All they had to carry back and forth was their fishing tackle and a small outboard motor.

That first one belonged to someone who was a bit less trusting. It was a wide aluminum jon boat painted in camouflage, fastened to a tree with a padlock and a long length of chain. Although Dan had several tricks for cutting or snapping padlocks, he didn’t have any of the necessary tools with him. They kept looking, deciding they’d return to the chained boat and try again if they couldn’t find anything else.

Luck was on their side, and a more trusting person had stored another boat a short distance downstream. This one was also a jon boat, a common and stable craft for river travel. The dented boat was tucked into the weeds high above the waterline and secured to a pine tree with a yellow nylon rope.

Holly grasped the rope and crumbling strands of nylon clung to her hand. “It looks like this one has been here for a while. Maybe it’s abandoned.”

“If that makes you feel better about stealing it, I’ll go along with that,” Dan said. “God, I hate it when a cop goes crooked.”

Holly raised a middle finger in his direction. “Asshole.”

Dan was still grinning when he grabbed hold of the boat and went to flip it over sideways. He assumed he’d make short work of rolling the aluminum boat, but his back was too sore. It ended up being heavier than it looked and it took all four of them to turn it over. They only had it as far as shoulder-level when there was an eruption of hissing and squealing below them. Dark shapes scurried around their feet.

Krin was startled and stumbled backward. Dan, Holly, and Jinks, while equally startled, managed to shove the boat over. They didn’t want to lose their hard-won progress. Dan squealed like a little girl when a river rat the size of a house cat brushed past his leg.

Holly cackled with amusement. “That’s karma, Dan. That’s what you get for those crooked cop jokes.”

Dan had a hand on his chest waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. “Rats and snakes. Neither of them has a place in my world. Nasty bastards!”

Jinks used a large bowie knife to cut the yellow nylon rope loose from the tree.

Dan couldn’t help but notice the weapon. “Looks like you upgraded from that kitchen knife you mentioned.”

Jinks held the fourteen-inch knife up and the sun flashed off the blade. “No one died over this one. It was a gift.”

They were relieved to find that two plastic paddles were lashed inside the boat for safekeeping. Despite the weight of the boat, Jinks spun it easily using the rope, then proceeded to drag it down the bank. He stopped a couple of feet from the edge of the river while Krin and Holly caught up to him, bringing his gear with them. Dan joined them and they quickly loaded the boat, trying to balance things as much as possible. One built-in seat had a hatch and Holly checked it, hoping for life jackets. She found two, but they were so black with mold that no one dared hang one around their neck. She tossed them out onto the riverbank and wiped her hands on her pants, then they all worked together to slide the boat the rest of the way into the water.

“Dan, you get in first and move all the way to the back.”

Holly spoke in such an authoritative tone that Dan didn’t dare question her. He threw a hasty salute, climbed in, and carefully settled into the back of the rocking boat.

Holly pointed to one of the paddles. “Take one of those and don’t you dare drop it.”

While offended at whatever she was suggesting about his dexterity, Dan kept his mouth shut and did as he was ordered. Holly’s tone left no room for argument.

“Krin, you’re next, Jinks beside you. Dan, make sure the plug is secure in the boat and that it isn’t leaking.”

Dan had been in enough boats over the years that he understood how the drain plug worked. He confirmed that it was in place and locked. “We’re good. No leaks that I can see.”

With Krin and Jinks now in the boat, Holly stepped off the shore. She put a foot in the bow of the boat, shifted her weight, and shoved them away from the riverbank. She sat down as the boat rocked and placed the coil of prickly yellow rope at her feet.

Holly stuck out her hand. “Somebody pass me the other paddle.”

The current already had hold of them and was pulling the aluminum boat toward the center of the river. With some shouting on her part and some cursing on Dan’s, the two of them got the boat pointed in the right direction, and soon they were floating down the center of the river.

Jinks said. “Look at those trees going by on the bank. No way we could walk this fast.”

Dan grinned, dragging his paddle in the water to steer them along. “Yeah, this is kind of cool. I feel like I’m channeling my inner fur trapper.”

Holly smiled. “Easy there, Grizzly Adams.”

3

Krin was smiling at the entire world, enjoying their peaceful mode of travel when she noticed that Holly was the only one who didn’t look lost in the moment. “What’s wrong, girlfriend? Why the sad face?”

Holly was scanning the bank like she was anticipating a guerilla attack at any moment. “We’re really exposed out here on the water. I agree that a boat is the best option right now, but it sure makes me nervous. Every time I see movement on the shore I think it’s someone preparing to ambush us, but it’s always a deer or beaver.”

“Beware the mighty beaver,” Dan teased.

“You can laugh if you want,” Holly said, “but there’s nowhere to hide if we are attacked. We can’t even run. We’re sitting ducks out here in the slowest boat ever made. I might feel better if I was in a canoe or something. They may be tippy, but they’re faster.”

“Why would someone start shooting at us for no reason?” asked Krin.

Holly had to look at Krin to see if she was serious. Holly didn’t like to be judgmental, but it was the kind of question that could only come from some vapid, airhead hippie. After all they had seen, after all they had been through, how could Krin even ask that? “Because they might want to rob us, maybe steal our boat. Or perhaps they’re just murderous savages who like killing people for fun.”

Dan chuckled. “You mean they might try to steal our stolen boat?”

Holly continued listing the reasons someone might shoot at them. “Maybe they’re bad people. Maybe they’re bored and shooting at things floating down the river is how they entertain themselves and pass the time, like this is a shooting gallery at the county fair.”

Jinks looked at Holly with genuine curiosity. “You must be fun at parties with all that gloom and doom floating around in your head. You’re like a vending machine that hands out worst case scenarios for every situation.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Dan piped in. “It’s always something with her. I can’t tell you how many times she’s ruined a perfectly good buzz.”

Holly blew out an exasperated breath and looked from one man to the other. “It’s called situational awareness. Being aware of your surroundings and any risk they might present. It’s how we’ve stayed alive this long. It’s certainly not those crystals Krin carries in her pockets or your stoned ass protecting us.”

Krin and Dan looked at each other, mutually offended at Holly’s implication.

“I’ll have you know I’m only carrying two crystals!” Krin snapped. “One is for personal healing and the other is for emotional wellbeing. Two crystals are barely anything at all. Normally I wouldn’t even leave the house without at least thirteen.”

Holly held up a soothing hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I’m just kind of⁠—”

“A bitch sometimes?” Krin said helpfully.

Dan cackled.

After a moment’s consideration, Holly nodded. “Yeah that.”

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but Holly cut him off with a finger jabbed in his direction. “We don’t need anything else from you, mister. Zip it!”

They floated in silence for several minutes, then Jinks said, “Well, now that you’ve scared everyone, maybe we do need a plan, Holly. What do we do if the Deliverance hillbillies show up on the riverbank wanting us to squeal like pigs?”

Holly cringed at the image but considered the question for a moment. “Paddling across the current is slower than paddling with the current. Whoever is on the paddles needs to paddle forward if that’s an option. Try to get past the attack instead of fleeing to the opposite side of the river. The two without paddles should lay down suppressive fire and try to force the attackers behind cover. Maybe that will buy us enough time to escape.”

“Copy that,” Jinks said. “Sounds like a reasonable plan. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

Dan reached into his shirt and tugged out the handheld GPS. Once it booted up and acquired satellites he studied the screen. “This says we’re moving about four miles per hour. It might be easier than walking but it’s not a whole hell of a lot faster.”

Jinks stared in awe at the first electronic device he’d seen since the collapse. “Okay, you’re going to have to tell me what the hell is going on here. How do you have something electronic that actually works?”

Dan glanced at Holly, feeling a bit dumb for not being more cautious. Did they really know Jinks well enough to trust him with the fact they had working flashlights, GPS, and even night vision goggles? Seeing that Dan was tongue-tied and uncertain of what would inevitably spill out of his mouth, Holly intervened.

“We spent the winter in a survivalist bunker in the Idaho mountains. They had some supplies that were protected against the EMP, and we brought along a few things to make the journey easier.”

Jinks was still in shock. “Damn, I’m not sure I could have made myself leave if I was in a place with working electronics. I’d have hidden out there until the world got back to normal.”

Dan tucked the GPS back into his shirt. “I was resigned to spending the rest of my life in Idaho, but I finally got my head on straight. I’ve got kids back home in Tennessee and even if they don’t need me anymore, I’d like to know they’re safe. I have to try and reach them, even if it takes a while.”

Jinks studied the shore. “Well, we might not be breaking any speed records, but you can float a lot more hours in a day than you can walk. If there’s a good moon, we might even be able to stay on the river all night.”

Holly’s face clouded. “Maybe, but we need to be able to see what’s ahead of us. I’d hate to come up on some mess in the dark and not be able to see our way out of it.”

“That’s a good point,” Dan said. “Let’s keep our eyes open for canoes too. Like you said, those would be faster.”

Despite their concerns about being so exposed on the water, there was ultimately something calming about river travel. The current did most of the work, while Dan and Holly used their paddles to keep the boat in the center of the river. Jinks eventually stretched out in the bottom of the boat with his head resting on one gunwale and his feet propped on the other. He looked so comfortable that Krin soon followed suit, stretching out on her aluminum seat. Her bare feet hung in the air, enjoying their freedom.

Dan watched them enviously, thinking of how nice it must be to enjoy a nap on this sunny day. Since he couldn’t nap, he dug into his pack and located some of the podcaster weed he brought from Kyle Cross’s underground bunker in the mountains. He rolled a slightly lumpy joint, stuck it in his mouth, and stashed his weed supplies back in his pack. Holly turned around in the bow and flashed him a disapproving look, so he winked and blew her a kiss.

“You might think you’re cute,” she said. “Just remember if your stoned ass drops that paddle into the river, you’re going in after it whether you want to or not. Are we clear?”

Dan saluted. “Aye aye, Captain Holly.”

She shook her head in disgust. “I’m not sure why I put up with you.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was because of my dashing good looks and my ginormous⁠—”

“Keep guessing,” Holly cut in.

Dan clutched his chest like her insults had wounded him deeply, then he grinned and stared off at the light reflecting off the water. “You know that Neil Young song ‘Powderfinger’?”

“Can’t say I do. Not sure if I know any Neil Young songs.”

Now Dan was the one disgusted. “Uncultured Neanderthal! I don’t know how you made it this far in life with such an unsophisticated musical palate. You probably grew up on boy bands and Paula Abdul.”

Holly’s smile was wistful. “I might’ve had a New Kids On The Block poster on my wall.”

“Figures.” Dan lit the joint in his mouth.

The smell of the weed smoke caused Jinks to sit up and rub his eyes. “I thought I was having the most beautiful dream, but it’s real. Can I have a hit of that?”

Dan laughed and passed the joint. Krin perked up and had some too. She offered it to Holly, who abstained.

“No thanks. I prefer to be aware of my surroundings.”

“You’ll still be aware of your surroundings,” Dan said. “You’ll just feel a little different about them. The light will be prettier and the sky will be bluer. You’ll be more chill and less anxious.”

“Anxiety is a survival mechanism,” Holly fired back. “Consider for a moment the wisdom of muting a survival instinct.”

Dan grinned. “I would consider it, but I don’t want to ruin a good buzz with logic. I’ll consider the insides of my eyelids instead. Jinks, you good to switch out for a while?”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Dan pointed at Holly. “No, she’s the captain. Not sure what my rank here is.”

Holly ticked the possibilities off on her fingers. “Jester? Ship’s nincompoop? Head fried pie?”

Dan winced. “Damn, a fried pie would be good about now. Apple with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it.”

Jinks took Dan’s paddle. “Why don’t you go to sleep and quit tormenting us with memories of food we can’t have?”

They swapped places and Dan settled into the bottom of the boat, shifting a few packs to make himself comfortable. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Dan wasn’t sure how long he slept but he awoke to Jinks playing his guitar and singing. Holly had taken the stern position, used some rope to bind her paddle to a cleat, and was using the paddle as a rudder. A little movement of that rudder was now all that was required to keep them pointed in the right direction.

It sank into Dan’s muddled brain that Jinks was singing “Long Haired Country Boy,” one of his favorite Charlie Daniels’ tunes. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What made you play that?”

“‘Cause you strike me as the kind of person who gets stoned in the morning and drunk in the afternoon, just like the lyrics of that song. I’ve known a few of you ‘wake and bake’ types over the years. I might have even been one myself during certain periods of my life.”

Dan smirked. “That’s why I don’t wear a watch. Then I don’t have to be concerned about what time I drink or smoke weed. I just assume it’s always happy hour.”

“That’s one way to do it. So what’s your story, Dan?” Jinks continued to fingerpick the tune of the song.

“Not sure I have a story.”

“Bullshit. I heard Holly teasing you about ‘the Way of Dan’ earlier. A man doesn’t have his own philosophy with a name and everything if he doesn’t have a good story to tell.”

Dan mulled it over. “Here’s the short version. A man who’d given up on life tries to help out an old lady by going to Boise and he gets stuck there by events beyond his control. Now that same man is trying to keep himself alive long enough to get back home and see his kids again.”

Holly looked impressed. “That about sums it up.”

“Nah, there’s got to be more to it than that,” said Jinks. “A personal philosophy like ‘the Way of Dan’ doesn’t come about from having a few bad years. It comes from looking back on the arc of your life and examining the recurring themes. We all have them, it’s just that some of us aren’t observant enough to reflect back and analyze them. Most people never learn from their experiences. They have a tendency to repeat the same mistakes, the same patterns, over and over. We’re creatures of habit, whether those habits are working for us or against us.”

Holly nodded. “That’s the truth. When I was a cop, I heard the same old sob stories time after time. I arrested people for committing the same crimes over and over again. Some people never learn.”

Jinks held up a finger. “Or they get stuck.”

“If that happens, they need a good kick in the ass to get them un-stuck,” Holly replied.

Jinks conceded the point with a nod. “That works for some people, but not all. When I used to get stuck, I’d pack up and move to a new city. There’s something about moving to a place where you don’t know anyone that forces you to reboot and rebuild. You break your old patterns and hopefully learn who you truly are at the core of it all. That was the only thing that ever worked for me.”

“That’s how I ended up in Idaho,” said Krin. “I got out of a bad relationship and couldn’t get away from the dude. All my friends were also his friends. It was horrible. I had to move and start over.”

Jinks picked his guitar absently while he spoke. “You move somewhere new and you don’t have to be the same person you were in the last place you lived. You can be anyone you want. Sometimes a change of scenery shows us the things in life that mean the most to us and exposes those things we did simply out of habit. It’s amazing how much of life is just a routine. Things we do because it’s easier than doing anything else. We hang out with the same old people because it’s easier than making new friends. We eat the same foods and go to the same places. Most people crave the comfort of familiarity, but it comes at a cost. You surrender part of your soul for that reassurance.”

“My life got that way,” Dan said, lying back down and staring at the sky. “I’d get up and go to work, come home and eat, get in a little time with the family, then rewind and repeat thousands and thousands of times. It becomes automatic and you don’t even notice it. Then one day you wake up and there’s more life behind you than ahead of you.”

“It doesn’t sound like you had a bad life,” Jinks said. “There’s men who’d kill for a family.”

“I agree. It wasn’t a bad life. Trust me, I’ve examined it over and over in detail. If I have any regrets at all, it’s that I blinked and so much of it went by without me even noticing.”

“Sounds like you feel guilty about that,” Jinks suggested.

“In some ways,” Dan admitted.

“Such as?”

“It started when my wife died three years ago.”

Jinks quit strumming. “I’m sorry to hear that, Dan. That’s a lousy card to draw.”

Dan shrugged. “Yeah, it sucked, and it threw us all for a loop, me and the kids. I began to change after that and according to some people it wasn’t for the better.”

“How’s that?”

“Being married was like being in a warm bath. When my wife died, it was like someone pulled the plug and left me lying there in an empty bathtub all wet, clammy, and disoriented.”

“How did you handle that?”

Dan shook his head. “Depends on who you ask, I guess.”

“I’m asking you.” Jinks switched songs, this time picking the melancholy opening notes of Neil Young’s “The Needle and the Damage Done.”

Dan wished he’d play something else. Anything but that one. He’d never lost a friend to a drug overdose as far as he knew, but there was something painful about that song, something raw and visceral that burrowed its way inside and left him feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“With the kids out of the house, most of the parenting was done. I mean, the kids needed support, but my wife’s death affected my daily life more than it affected theirs. One night she was there in bed beside me, then the next night she wasn’t. She wasn’t there to help me find a particular shirt or make me macaroni and cheese the way I liked it. I’d remember a funny story and there’d be no one around to tell it to. Or I’d just want to talk about something to get it off my chest, but there was no one around for that either. It wasn’t only depressing, it was paralyzing.”

Jinks kept playing that damn song, and Dan couldn’t shut it out of his head, despite his best efforts.

“Sounds like it was a tough period for you.”

“Yeah, that’s when I began to change. It was like waking up from a trance. I realized how different I was from the person I’d been when we got married. The person I was when I was younger. That was…disturbing.”

“Why disturbing? You were there for the entire thing. You saw every second of your own life. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to you who you’d become.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. Sometimes we change so slowly that we don’t see or feel it happening. It’s like a tree growing around barbwire until that barbwire becomes an inseparable part of the tree. It’s like you said about moving. It’s not until the world changes around you that you finally see yourself as you truly are.”

“After your wife died and you noticed how you’d changed, did you resent her? Did you feel like it was her fault that you’d become the person you had? Did she somehow cause it?”

“Not at all,” Dan said defensively. “If anything, I felt guilt at changing from the person she fell in love with. I don’t know how she ever loved the boring creature of habit that I became. I didn’t like that person once I noticed him.”

Krin spoke up. “You can’t blame yourself for that. I’m sure she changed too. Everyone does.”

Dan shrugged. “Some people might not reflect on how much they changed. I’m not one of those people. I felt like, while I’d done both of us a disservice, mainly I’d failed myself. I let my dreams and values fall to the side over the years. I became a thing I swore I never wanted to become. Someone who slept their way through life, coasting on autopilot. Someone who didn’t even notice the passage of time.”

Jinks quit playing and folded both arms across the top of his guitar. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting about it?” Dan asked. “You sound like a therapist.”

“Not a therapist, exactly. Just a man who’s talked to a lot of people in a lot of bars. I’ve got an insight or two.”

“Yeah? Got any insights into me yet?” Dan’s comment was intended to be sarcastic, but that didn’t stop Jinks from responding.

“I do have an insight or two, actually.”

Dan clapped his hands in amusement. “By all means, let’s hear it.”

“Oh, this should be good,” said Holly. “I’ve been waiting for a second opinion on you for months.”

Jinks cleared his throat. “I think your wife dying snapped you out of a spell. You’re glad you woke up but feel shitty about how it happened. You got your life back, but you’re overcome with guilt that it took your wife dying to make it happen. You don’t know what to do with that guilt, Dan. You’re scared to face your kids and scared to face yourself.”

Dan’s grin faded. This wasn’t fun any longer. “I want to paddle for a while.”

Jinks looked off downriver. “No paddling required, my friend. Mother Nature is doing all the pushing. See, you’re free now, Dan, but you can’t accept your freedom because that means dealing with this guilt you’re carrying around. You’ve got guilt that you changed from who you were as a young man, disappointing yourself. Then there’s this guilt you said you have over becoming someone different than the man your wife married. You feel like you might have been a disappointment to her too. Then there’s the guilt that it took her death to wake you up.”

“I want up front now,” Dan said more forcefully, standing up like he was ready to toss people overboard to make it happen.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Jinks placed his guitar back in the case and carefully shifted positions with Dan.

At the bow of the boat, Dan picked up a paddle and rested it on his lap, looking like a man holding a guitar. Part of him wanted to turn around and swing that paddle like an ax until Jinks was dead and no longer blathering on about things that were very personal to Dan. He didn’t, though. He stared downriver until the view of the Missouri blurred from his tears.

4

“Keep your weapons ready but don’t raise them,” Holly instructed as they approached the boundary of Fort Leavenworth. She didn’t glance at the others as she spoke, her eyes scanning the shoreline. “We don’t want to appear threatening, but if someone starts shooting at us we need to be ready to shoot back.”

Holly maintained a white-knuckle grip on the rudder. While she felt the weight of responsibility for her friends since she was the only one with any training, she certainly hadn’t been trained for anything like this. The rest of them jokingly called her the captain, but it was true that she’d defaulted to this position. Though she didn’t necessarily like it, she wasn’t ready to trust leadership to anyone else.

Their surroundings reminded Holly of stories she’d heard from her dad when she was growing up. Stories about floating down rivers during the war in Vietnam, constantly searching the dense jungle around them for the enemy, waiting for the moment when the hypnotic peace would be shredded by gunfire. The stillness was eerie. Dan’s usual smartass comments, often used to defuse tense situations, were absent. The unsettling silence was only broken by the rhythmic slap of water against the hull.

Everyone had hold of their weapons. Jinks propped his shorty shotgun on his knees, the barrel pointed off to the side. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he adjusted his grip, his expression grim. He shifted in his seat, his eyes briefly meeting Holly’s before returning to the shoreline with its mix of evergreen trees and leafless hardwoods.

Holly was ready too, her rifle slung around her neck. She had one hand on the rudder, the other clasping the grip of her weapon. Her thumb rested on the selector switch, ready to throw it to the Fire position instantly if things got spicy. Holly was better than most at managing the tension of situations like this, but every now and then she tapped her foot on the aluminum bottom of their boat, a subtle sign of the anxiety fighting its way to the surface.

“We could come across soldiers,” Holly said in a low, reassuring voice. “We could also come across civilians with their own reasons for shooting at us so just keep your cool. If we start exchanging fire, we could literally bring the cavalry down on our heads.”

Dan’s rifle rested across his lap while his eyes darted around the landscape, trying to be methodical in his search of the riverbank. His breathing was calm and deliberate. The future was beyond his control right now. If he had to kill someone today, he was as ready as he was going to get. He’d done it before, and he was certain he’d do it again before this journey was over.

Krin, usually quieter than the rest, followed their lead. She struggled to find a position that was comfortable yet kept the barrel of her weapon pointed in a safe direction. Her eyes were fixed on the river ahead of them, a slight frown creasing her brow. She swallowed hard and licked her lips, obviously anxious to put this stretch of river behind them.

The shoreline to their right was thick with trees. Even with the sparse foliage it was a dark and foreboding place, shadows pooling where sun rarely reached. To their left was a boundary of bare trees through which they could see farmland beyond. Soon, they encountered a cluster of rusted signs warning them that they were entering U.S. Government property and listing the penalties for trespassing.

Beyond those signs the atmosphere itself seemed to change. The air felt heavier, thick with anticipation. To Dan’s ear, even the sound of birds had ceased, as if there was a boundary here that they dared not fly over. There was the occasional rustle of leaves as a squirrel hopped from branch to branch. A faint trickle of water emptied into the river from a hidden brook. Any unfamiliar sound made the group anxious, their eyes darting for the source.

Dan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. His lips twitched like he was about to say something, but he held back, almost afraid to violate the silence. Alone in his thoughts, Dan glanced at Jinks out of the corner of his eye, uncertain of what to make of him. There was something unsettling about how easily Jinks got into his head earlier, picking at the things Dan tried to keep buried. How had he so easily assessed Dan’s predicament when it was something Dan himself struggled to put words to?

Dan tried to view his situation through the lens of his personal philosophy. If he was trying to interpret what had happened with Jinks earlier through the context of The Way of Dan, what would that tell him? He thought he might know, but he didn’t really like the answer. The Way of Dan would tell him that sometimes answers were found in the least expected places. Maybe even from the stoned ramblings of a wandering guitar player.

Maybe Jinks’ harsh and unsettling insights could lead to some kind of breakthrough. After all, they were parallel to some of the thoughts and conclusions Dan had come up with on his own. Still, the way things had happened earlier left him feeling aggravated. The idea of someone poking around in his mind without permission made his skin crawl. It was like having a dentist jab at a sore tooth, the pain raw and unavoidable. He was relieved when Holly’s low voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Pass me the GPS, Dan.”

He reached beneath his shirt and pulled the lanyard over his head, passed it back to Jinks, who handed it over to Holly. She powered it up and waited for the satellites to sync to the device.

When it was ready, she spoke again and her words were low, barely carrying over the sound of the water. “The aerial map shows this part of the base is mostly woods.” She glanced at the small screen, her fingers tracing the edges of the map. “We might not see anything or anybody until we get closer to the main base.”

“So much for that theory,” Jinks said, his voice gravelly. “I’d recommend no sudden movements.”

Holly’s head came up at Jinks’ words, her eyes narrowing as she followed the direction of his gaze. The muscles in her neck tightened as she strained to see what he was talking about. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she went completely still. At the edge of the woods, nestled into the ground like a predator lying in wait, was a fortified shooting position. It melded seamlessly into the landscape, logs and dirt banked against the front to create a natural-looking barricade. Holly’s eyes darted over the scene, taking in the low wall of logs and the barrel of the M249 light machine gun protruding just enough to be noticeable.

Although the soldiers within the hide were barely visible, Holly could make out the faint shift of movement as one of them tracked their boat with the barrel of the weapon. He was watching them, waiting, ready to act if they made a wrong move. Holly’s heart hammered inside her chest. Even though she’d somewhat expected this, the weight of their vulnerability pressed down on her. She forced herself to stay calm. If she panicked, the others would too. Shots would be fired, and her people would get the short end of that exchange.

“Do not land your vessel on river right until you are clear of U.S. Government property,” a voice blared from the shoreline. The soldier’s words were distorted by the megaphone, but the message was clear. “This will be your only warning.”

The voice, mechanical and cold, sent a chill down Dan’s spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the gun emplacement moved past. He swallowed hard. “Shit, I’m afraid to even breathe.”

Holly shot him a quick glance. “That fear is justified. Like Jinks said, no sudden movements and we should be fine. I’ll steer with the rudder and you guys stay chill.”

“Copy that,” Jinks said. “Consider me chilled.”

The tension in the boat was palpable. Everyone sat a little straighter, their eyes wide and alert. Krin’s hands, resting on the butt of her rifle, trembled slightly before she clenched them into fists to steady herself. Her eyes darted nervously between the trees and the river ahead. She looked like a woman who’d boarded an extreme rollercoaster and was now having second thoughts.

It seemed to take forever for their boat to glide past that first bunker. After those initial commands were issued through the megaphone, the fortified position remained ominously silent as they drifted by, the soldiers keeping their weapons trained on them the entire time. The silence was suffocating. It wasn’t until their boat was a good distance past the gun emplacement that Dan exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“That was surprisingly terrifying,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The journey past Fort Leavenworth did not get any easier once the first emplacement was behind them. Holly’s keen eyes soon picked out another fortified position nestled among a pile of logs on the riverbank, nearly invisible among the natural debris. “Don’t look now, but we have more company.” She didn’t dare point, afraid the gesture might be mistaken as hostile.

Dan followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he searched the woods. When he spotted the gun emplacement with its mounted M249, he let out a nervous breath. He could feel eyes on him, like the weight of chains dragging him down.

“Everybody stay calm,” Holly reminded them in a musical tone. It was like she was trying to calm a child before she pulled a splinter. She maintained her grip on the rudder, steering the boat with only an occasional movement.

They passed more bunkers as they drifted farther down the river. All the positions were expertly camouflaged, blending so well into the environment that they might have missed them altogether had they not been searching so carefully. The soldiers inside those emplacements, invisible except for the occasional glint of metal or flash of movement, tracked them every step of the way. It became a grim game of sorts, trying to spot those bunkers while making sure they didn’t make a move that might be misinterpreted with fatal consequences.

Time stretched on as they floated past these defenses. Everyone’s nerves were frayed and they barely spoke. Finally, after what felt like days, the dense woods of the more remote sections of the base gave way to the flat, open expanse of the airfield. The gravel road known as the Chief Joseph Loop ran nearby, a ribbon of gray separating the airfield from the river. Everyone felt a small measure of relief at the change in scenery. The openness made them feel less trapped, less hemmed in by the ominous woods with their hidden sharpshooters.

The horizon opened up, revealing the sprawling military outpost in a muted, surreal light. When they’d launched their boat earlier in the day, they hadn’t given much thought to the time. The sun had nearly set now, casting long shadows over the landscape. The short spring days had caught up with them, and the fading evening would soon give way to night.

Holly cleared her throat. “Dan?”

“Yep?”

“Slowly bring up the binoculars and take a look around. Tell me what you see.”

Dan reached for the small set of binoculars sitting atop his pack, then raised them to his eyes and scanned the base. The defenses they encountered were not camouflaged outposts like the ones they had seen upriver. The forces here were in their face, having no need for concealment. Sandbagged gun emplacements dotted the landscape, while armored vehicles were positioned with turret-mounted weapons, their barrels aimed in the direction of the river.

Dan lowered the binoculars, letting them hang around his neck as he glanced back toward the others. “We should remain on our best behavior here unless we want the evening mist to be pink mist.”

“No argument here,” Krin said.

A short distance downriver they drifted into view of a sight that made all their stomachs knot. The train they had been riding earlier stood on the tracks, surrounded by armed troops. Most likely in response to the persistent problem of people hitching rides on the hardened trains, the base had erected a chain-link paddock nearby. It was crammed with the other stowaways.

“Good call ditching that ride,” said Jinks.

Dan saw people he recognized inside the paddock, the mass of bodies pressed into too small a space, each trapped in their own quiet misery. Their eyes were wide with fear, the weight of their predicament etched into every line of their expressions. Some of them spotted the boat drifting by. There may have been a flicker of recognition there, the prisoners remembering the four floating by in the small metal boat as people they’d seen on the train. If they thought Dan and his friends were there to save them, that hope was quickly extinguished. Everyone understood there was no way that was happening. Even if Dan’s group had been so inclined, there was no way they could free those prisoners against that kind of resistance.

Krin stared at the scene, her face pale. She appeared ready to crack. The way her eyes darted between the soldiers and the captives revealed the thoughts tumbling in her mind. Her eyes lingered on a group of children clinging to their mothers inside the paddock. The sight of their small bodies hit her hard and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was the most tender-hearted of the lot. She pressed her lips together, glancing briefly at Holly before speaking. “What do you think they’ll do with them?”

Jinks leaned back with a casual ease, his voice cold and detached. “They’ll probably kill them. There’s no way they’re going to take on that many mouths to feed.”

Krin’s eyes widened and she snapped her head around to look at him. She was horrified by the suggestion. “Kill them? All of them? Surely not.”

Holly gave Jinks a nasty look, then tried to calm Krin. “I doubt they’ll kill them. They have absolutely no reason to do that. My guess is they’ll detain them until the train is gone, then release them outside the gates. They don’t want to kill anyone, they just don’t want them riding the train.”

Jinks snorted, a cynical smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He cut Holly a sideways glance. “You’ve got more faith in government institutions than I do.” His eyes lingered on the soldiers for a moment longer before drifting back to the river.

“You former military?” Dan asked. “It’s like you’ve got a chip on your shoulder where they’re concerned.”

Jinks shook his head. “I was never in the military, but I grew up with a dad who’d been wrecked by the war in Vietnam. He ate the barrel of his gun while I was still a kid and left me with a mom who was crazy as a shithouse rat. So yeah, I got no love for the government and what they do to people.”

Krin looked at Dan with those imploring eyes. “What do you think? Will they kill them?”

Dan ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at his short beard. “I’m with Holly on this one. I don’t think they’ll kill them. I believe it’s going to be like one of those redneck sheriffs you used to see in old movies. They’ll load them all up on trucks, take them to the edge of the base, and kick them loose with a warning to never come back.”

That thought appeared to bring some relief to Krin, who relaxed slightly.

Holly said, “I’m sure there are a lot of families living on that base. Morale wouldn’t hold up for long if the command committed mass executions of stranded, desperate people.”

Dan leaned back slightly, stretching out his legs. “You know, it’s kind of funny. If they’re going to be turned loose, jumping off the train didn’t really gain us anything, did it? We took the risk of breaking bones for nothing.”

“Assuming they’re getting turned loose,” Jinks pointed out. “If they all get mowed down, then we damn sure made the right call.”

Holly looked down at the water. It was growing darker as the twilight deepened into night. “We have nothing to go on but our own instinct. We do the best we can, and it’s gotten us this far.”

“How much farther are we going tonight?” Dan asked. “Are we going to keep floating in the dark and hope for the best?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” said Holly. “It’s risky when we can’t see anything.”

“We have flashlights and some batteries,” said Krin. “Could we use one as a headlight to watch the river in front of us and keep floating for a couple of more hours?”

For once, Dan was the voice of practicality. “I hate to waste batteries when I don’t know if we’ll be able to find more.”

“Not to mention the attention a working flashlight would get from anyone along the river,” Holly added. “There might be people out there who would kill us just for a single flashlight.”

“Is that more loot from the survivalist bunker?” Jinks asked.

Dan deferred to Holly, who nodded and said, “Yeah.”

Jinks looked skeptical, like he thought there was more to the story that they weren’t sharing. Dan wasn’t bothered by the suspicion. In fact, he respected it. Only a fool trusted strangers these days, and Jinks, for all his rough edges, wasn’t a fool. As far as Dan was concerned, Jinks could believe them or not. Either way, it didn’t matter. They had no obligation to Jinks and could part ways at any time with no hard feelings. There was no bond there, no history, and no investment in the others’ fates.

“So what are we going to do?” Dan asked, his voice quiet but pressing.

Holly exhaled softly. “We have no choice but to keep moving until we’re past the base. The city of Leavenworth isn’t huge, but I expect there are people living along the riverfront. Since the city is on river right, let’s go ashore on river left once we’re past the base. We can camp for the night and hit the river again in the morning.”

“I’m assuming we’ll need to keep watch?” There was an underlying edge to Jinks’ voice, a wariness that was always present, despite his easygoing manner.

Holly hesitated. They didn’t know much about Jinks. Could they trust him? Would she feel comfortable sleeping while he was the only one awake? There were so many things that could go wrong in that scenario. He could steal the boat, take their gear, and leave them stranded. Or worse—he could kill them in their sleep and take everything.

After a long pause, Holly said, “Two-man teams. We’ll split the night into two shifts.”

If Jinks understood that her decision came from a place of suspicion, he gave no indication of it. He simply nodded, his face impassive, and turned back to watching the river. His body was perfectly still except for the subtle twitch of his fingers against the stock of his gun.

The river carried them forward, the current slow but steady. The darkening sky offered no comfort. They were deep in uncertain territory, carried by a momentum beyond their control,

5

Night was almost upon them by the time they cleared the boundaries of Fort Leavenworth. The last trace of the setting sun was a glow the color of a blood orange stretched thin upon the horizon to the west. To the right of the river lay the city, mostly dark and lifeless, its silhouette barely discernible against the sky. Here and there, faint flickers of light glowed through broken windows. There were scattered outdoor fires, the smell of smoke hanging in the air and temporarily melding with the ever-present smell of the river.

Dan’s eyes lingered on those campfires, questions flickering through his mind. Who was gathered round them on this cold night? What were they eating and where were they getting clean water? Had a hard winter with no electricity thinned the population as everyone speculated it would? Had starvation, illness, and desperation taken their toll?

“I guess this is as good a place to stop as any,” Holly said, her voice tight with fatigue.

Dan grunted in response, too tired at this point to form an intelligible sentence. His body and mind were fully wrung out from the stress of the day. He was also sore from jumping off the train, digging a grave, and then sitting in the boat all day. It was going to be an ibuprofen night for sure. With Holly working the rudder, Dan dipped his paddle and worked the boat toward the dark shoreline. The only sounds were the occasional thunk of his submerged paddle against the boat and the sloshing of the river against the hull.

As they got closer, Holly muted the glow of her flashlight with a gloved hand and explored the shoreline. When she spotted a section of riverbank that wasn’t too steep, they made a beeline for it. Everyone awkwardly clambered out and worked together to pull the boat onto the bank, their tired muscles straining with the effort.

“We going to tie it off here?” Jinks asked.

“Someone might steal it,” Dan replied. “Someone like Holly.” The smartass part of his brain apparently wasn’t as tired as the rest of him.

Holly ignored him. “I’d rather leave it where whoever is on watch can keep an eye on it.”

They all understood that the odds of rogue boat thieves stumbling upon their tiny boat in the middle of the night were slim, but not zero. They preferred not to risk it so the four of them worked together, shoulders burning, to drag the boat off the riverbank and up to the edge of the woods. By the time they were done, their arms and legs were trembling from the effort. It was too much exertion on too little food.

After retrieving their gear, they collapsed onto the ground to catch their breath. Dan could have closed his eyes and fallen asleep right then, however, he knew he shouldn’t. He needed to get some fuel into his body, and they needed a shelter for the night. Above them, there was enough of a moon that he could see a sky filled with thick, ominous clouds. They’d been so concerned with the threat of being shot today that they hadn’t noticed the front moving in.

“We’ll need a roof over our heads tonight,” Dan said, already calculating the best way to rig a shelter. “Have I mentioned how much I miss having a weather app?”

Krin groaned. “Every day.”

“Flip the boat over and rig a tarp over it,” Jinks suggested. “I’ve done that on canoe trips before. It makes a stable shelter.”

With Jinks directing, they turned the boat upside down, resting one gunwale on the ground and propping the other up on chunks of driftwood. The result was a makeshift hard-topped tent with a two-foot-high opening along one long side of the overturned boat. The open side was covered with a stretched tarp that formed a covered vestibule where they could cook the next morning if it was raining. The shelter was large enough for all of them to squeeze under if they huddled close. Dan was normally big on maintaining some personal space, but it just wasn’t going to be possible under these conditions. He could have space or he could have a dry bed, but not both.

When they were done, Holly stepped back and surveyed their work with a nod of approval. “It’s not bad. Pretty plush accommodations, all things considered.”

Jinks wasted no time crawling beneath the vestibule, dragging his gear along behind him. He rummaged through his pack, then lit a stub of candle with his lighter. He got back in his pack and came out with a small tin of sardines. He glanced at the others before opening it with a metallic snap. “I’m sorry for eating in front of you, but I’m starving. My belly has been gnawing on my backbone for the last couple of hours.”

Dan waved him off, though the smell of the sardines surprisingly made his stomach growl. He didn’t really care for them, so it was a testament to just how hungry he was. “Don’t apologize.”

Dan’s people had freeze-dried food from Kyle Cross’s bunker, but they’d burned through much of what they set out with. Freeze dried meals were light, easy to carry, and while not the most appetizing fare, were enough to keep them going. They’d run out eventually, and Dan wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of surviving off what they could forage. That was a recipe for starvation.

The rest of the group joined Jinks under the awning and dug into their own packs, pulling out the first freeze-dried meal their hands landed on. The process had become routine, automatic. No one complained about what meal they received anymore, whether it was the bland spaghetti or the over-salted chili, it didn’t matter. Food was fuel and little more. Regardless of the taste, they were glad to have it when so many didn’t.

It was Holly’s turn to filter water. She’d fill a collapsible bucket, run it through a compact filter, and wait for gravity to do the work, filling their cooking pots and water bottles. Dan set up a small, compressed-gas stove, the tiny blue flame flickering to life with a soft hiss. Both Holly and Krin carried their own stoves, a safety measure in case they got separated or someone’s gear got lost.

Jinks, who didn’t have a stove, watched them with interest, nearly done with his sardines. He smirked slightly, though his eyes were tired. “Pretty fancy setup you’ve got.” He licked sardine juice from his dirty fingers. “Cook stoves, GPS, flashlights, fancy water filters, and freeze-dried meals. All the good shit. Must be nice.”

Dan looked up from his cookpot and stared at Jinks, the bearded man’s face underlit by candlelight, making him look devilish. Dan couldn’t discern if the comment was good-natured ribbing or carried a hint of resentment. His water began boiling and he reached down to turn off the flame. “A man would have to be stupid to not use the resources available to him.”

Jinks shrugged. “I guess so.”

When Dan looked back up, Jinks was occupied elsewhere. Holly met his eye and he read in her expression that she still wasn’t sure what to make of Jinks. Nor was Dan, but he was generally more accepting of people, regardless of their nature. Perhaps that was a Southern thing. It might even have been a Way of Dan thing.

After boiling water in their pots, Dan, Holly, and Krin carefully poured water over the freeze-dried meals, resealing the packs and squishing them with their fingers to distribute the water evenly through the dehydrated chunks of food. The crinkling sound of the bags was only interrupted by the occasional muttered curse when someone burned their fingers on the hot mylar bags.

Even though the instructions said to wait fifteen minutes for the meal to fully hydrate, no one ever waited that long. The aroma teased them until hunger got the better of them and they would dig in early. Because of that, there was always that dreaded pocket of crunchy noodles or bitter, powdery sauce waiting for them at the bottom of the bag. No one complained, however. They were too tired and too hungry. While his meal steeped, Dan had an ibuprofen appetizer, then passed the bottle around. He was the elder and tonight he felt his years.

Jinks eyes were distant as he processed the events of the day in silence. The shadows from the flickering candle danced across his face. Dan wondered if he looked as road weary as Jinks. He had avoided mirrors since they left the Idaho mountains, not liking what they had to say about him.

After they had eaten, Dan stood and stretched, his muscles groaning in protest. He picked up the collapsible bucket and made his way to the riverbank to bring back more water, his footsteps slow and heavy. Once he returned with the water, they washed their eating utensils in silence. Dan’s hands moved methodically, scrubbing his spoon with his fingers before drying it carefully with a bandana. Krin and Holly did the same, none of them possessing the energy for small talk.

After repacking their cooking gear, they unrolled their sleeping bags onto a waterproof ground cloth. Dan immediately climbed inside his, the warmth gradually enveloping him like a cocoon. In the light of Jinks’ candle, Dan stared up at the underside of the boat, only inches above his face. He listened to the soft rustle of the wind in the trees. His body ached so badly that he welcomed the exhaustion. That and ibuprofen would hopefully allow him to sleep.

Jinks waited until the others had picked their spots before choosing his. Even with their beds prepared, no one except Dan had crawled into their bag yet. Dan was ready to drop off when he felt a jab in his bicep.

“Ouch! Not tonight, Holly. I hurt all over.”

Holly frowned. “Very funny, Dan. You think we might need to figure out the night watch situation before you pass out?”

Dan sheepishly glanced over at the others, still sitting there and clearly just as exhausted as he was. “I’ll do whatever you all want. Someone else pick.”

“Fine,” Holly replied. “You and I are taking first watch. Krin and Jinks can relieve us about 2 AM.”

Dan groaned but he’d agreed to let them choose and this was the consequence. He reluctantly slipped out of his cozy sleeping bag, pulled his boots back on, and climbed out from beneath the boat.

Fighting a cramp in his leg, Dan crawled out from beneath the vestibule and limped around, trying to walk it off. He cursed and sputtered, hurting from head to toe.

Holly joined him a second later with a tiny LED flashlight that emitted a red light. “Let’s take a walk.”

Dan groaned a second time. “You need me to hold your hand while you pee?” He caught the look on her face in the red glow of the light. He could tell she had something serious on her mind. Damn, he hated serious.

Jinks must have somehow sensed Holly’s vibe, even though he couldn’t see her from underneath the awning. He cleared his throat. “If you folks want to talk about me in private just let me know. Tell me how long you want me to stay gone and I’ll be back when you’re done. Of course, my preference would be that if you have something to discuss with me, we do it right now, in person.”

Holly stopped and raised her voice enough that Jinks could hear her. “I promise it’s not about you. It’s personal. Relationship stuff. Once you spend enough time around Dan, you’ll understand that being involved with him can be challenging, whether it’s love or friendship.”

Dan too had assumed the conversation was going to be about Jinks. “What the hell did I do?”

Holly cut him a sharp look. “In private, Dan.”

Dan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, somebody stop this bus and let me off. Why do you have to do this when I’m barely awake?” He shot Holly an exasperated look. “Can’t you just go off in the dark and talk girl stuff with Krin?”

Holly’s jaw tightened and she glared at Dan. “I’m not in a relationship with Krin. I’m in a relationship with you, though I’m starting to question how much longer that’s going to last.” She crossed her arms over her chest, piercing him with her gaze. “Come to think of it, I’m not even sure why I fell in love with you to begin with. You’re the most complicated, cantankerous person I’ve ever met.”

Dan gave her a lopsided grin, trying to disarm her with his usual charm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant that way.”

Dan lowered his voice. “Is it that time of⁠—”

Holly stiff-armed Dan in the shoulder, cutting him off. “Don’t you even finish that sentence.”

Dan grabbed his arm. “Ouch!”

Beneath the boat shelter, Krin and Jinks were giggling.

Holly jabbed a finger into the darkness beyond their camp. “Get your ass out there right now and I’m not asking again.” Her voice was firm, commanding, a tone that left no room for argument.

Knowing he was beaten, Dan sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He hoisted his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He started walking into the dark and a second later, Holly was by his side, her own rifle in her hand.

Dan couldn’t resist one last attempt to lighten the mood. “You taking me out into the woods so you can have your way with me? I bet it’s been hard on you to sit so close to me all day and not be able to love on me? I bet you were picturing me in gray sweatpants, weren’t you?”

“Seriously, Dan, I don’t know where you get this stuff sometimes. Occasionally it’s funny, but more often than not, it’s just irritating.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better. What is it you want to talk about?” He didn’t sound very sincere.

Holly didn’t answer right away. She gripped him by the arm, her grip firm as she pulled him farther away from camp. The cool night air brushed against their faces as they followed a narrow game trail that wound through the trees, the ground uneven beneath their feet. The silence between them stretched on, thick and tense.

Deciding they were far enough away from camp, Holly stopped. “The way you’re acting right now is exactly what I want to talk about. I don’t know if you understand how much anxiety you cause me sometimes.”

Dan gently pulled his arm loose from her grip and draped it over her shoulder. His fingers brushed lightly against her collarbone, a small, reassuring gesture. “I’m not trying to stress you out. You know I use humor as a way to cut through the anxiety. It’d be easy to let ourselves get swallowed up by all this... paranoia and worry.” He gestured vaguely toward the darkness around them. “I don’t want to live beneath that kind of black cloud all the time.”

“I’m fine with a little humor, but I’d also like a little support sometimes. This thing with Jinks… we don’t know the guy. We don’t know anything about him. I don’t have a problem sharing the trail with him, but I need you to stay vigilant. I need to know you’re keeping an eye on him and you have my back.”

“He might not be telling us everything, but you heard him play and sing. The things he said about Carl are true. He definitely met him.”

They were about forty yards from the boat now, far enough away that the camp was little more than a faint glow in the distance.

“Just because he’s a musician and knew your friend Carl doesn’t mean he’s telling us the whole truth. He could still be lying about other things. I don’t trust him yet, and nor should you. You are letting your guard down around him, and it’s not okay. Something about that dead girl just doesn’t set right with me.”

Dan’s expression shifted when he realized how serious Holly was. He could see the tension in her face, the way her lips pressed together, and the crease between her brows deepening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt this strongly about it.”

“It’s not just that,” Holly continued, her frustration spilling over. “When I get frustrated with you, I ask myself if I fell in love with you because of who you are, or because we were thrown together in this messed-up situation.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself. “I didn’t mind you smoking weed when we were holed up in the bunker, but now… now it puts my life at risk. It puts Krin’s life at risk. And I have to be twice as responsible because you’re impaired.”

Dan cringed at her words, his eyes dropping to the ground. He hated talking about emotional stuff, like when Jinks was boring into his psyche earlier, but he couldn’t deny the truth in what Holly was saying. He shifted uncomfortably. “You know I don’t like this kind of shit, but I love you, Holly. It wasn’t just because we were stuck together in the mountains. It’s because I want you in my life. I want to make it work. I want you to keep me around even after the lights come back on.”

Holly’s face softened. “Then keeping your head in the game would be a good start. There’s more we need to work on, but let’s start with that.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “There’s more? How can there be more? I’m damn near a work of art, Holly.”

It was a joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Deep down, Dan was aware he had a few issues. Probably more than a few. If Holly started digging too deep into them, they might be there all night. He hated being accountable to people, which made a relationship challenging. He knew he was flawed, perhaps more flawed than most, but he wasn’t sure how much room he had for change. He wasn’t interested in becoming an entirely different person when he’d just found his way back to who he was supposed to be. But maybe, just maybe, he could do the one thing she was asking of him and that would be a decent place to start. That was all she’d asked for.

“Yes, there’s more,” Holly said, her voice resigned. “Like I said, the rest can wait. I just needed to get this off my chest because it’s my most immediate concern. If I’m going to watch your back, I need to trust that you’ll be watching mine.”

Dan smirked, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Oh, I’ll definitely be watching yours. What’s that old saying? I hate to see you go but I love to watch you walk away?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Holly rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I forgot I had to choose my words carefully around juveniles.”

Dan chuckled, then pulled Holly into a hug. For a moment they stood there in the dark, the tension between them easing. “Let’s get back to camp. I’ll try to do better tomorrow. That’s a promise.”

Holly nodded against his chest, her eyes closing for just a moment, savoring the moment of peace. “Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Let’s go back.”

Dan took her hand, their fingers intertwining as they walked back toward the boat. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been gone, but he expected the others to be passed out. If he’d been left inside his sleeping bag earlier, he’d already be snoring up a storm. He heard low voices beneath the shell of the boat. He started to make some smartass comment about them waiting up for him and Holly, but he didn’t. Then he was glad he’d refrained.

Jinks was crying.

Dan had almost forgotten that the day began with him losing his girlfriend. There’d been several times throughout the day when Dan thought he felt Jinks sinking into that melancholy void of loss. Dan recognized it because he’d spent a great deal of time there himself. Stretched out in his sleeping bag with Alicia no longer beside him, Jinks’ loss became unavoidable.

Dan and Holly crawled beneath the tarp vestibule to sit out their watch. The stub of candle was still burning. In that faint glow, they saw that Krin had moved her sleeping bag alongside Jinks and she was speaking to him in a low voice. Dan couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was one of comfort and reassurance. Hearing Jinks in that state threatened to take Dan to some dark places too. He felt tears coming on despite his best efforts to quash them. It was crazy how loss could resurface like that out of nowhere. There was no logic in it.

Dan blew out the candle and let the darkness swallow him.

6

Dan’s sleep beneath the overturned boat was restless. By the time his shift on watch was over and he was reunited with his comfortable sleeping bag, the storm was upon them. Lightning crackled and thunder rumbled with a low growl that shook the ground. Exhaustion pulled at him nevertheless, and he drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the night. During those moments he was awake, he often heard the low murmur of Krin and Jinks talking during their watch. Maybe they’d found some common ground, with both of them having lost someone special to them.

The storm grew more intense toward morning. When Dan opened his eyes, he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. Darkness still pressed in from all sides and with nothing to see, hearing became the dominant sense. Dan listened to the rain as it grew from a light patter to a steady downpour. For a moment, the sound reminded him of childhood camping trips and the safety he felt in that leaky old canvas tent his family stayed in. Those experiences felt a lifetime away, so distant in Dan’s past that they almost seemed imagined. He’d never come to terms with the way life moved so slowly when you were grinding away at it, yet you opened your eyes one day and it was as if it had all passed by you in a flash.

The rain turned into an unrelenting torrent that pounded against the aluminum shell of the boat. Dan tried to find comfort in the sound, to let it soothe him back to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen. People who romanticized the sound of rain on a metal roof had never slept beneath one during a heavy storm. It was even worse beneath the aluminum boat because it lacked the insulation of a house. It was like trying to sleep while a band of angry percussionists did drum rolls only inches above his head.

Dan shifted in his sleeping bag and tugged it closer around himself. Even that simple movement exposed how much his body ached, his muscles protesting the previous day’s efforts. His arms and legs were stiff, and he wasn’t sure if it was from paddling, jumping off the train, or the effort of wrestling the boat out of the water at the end of the day. His back was the worst, and that pain had multiple causes as well. He was old, he’d sat on the hard seat of the boat all day, and he’d started yesterday by jumping off a train like a stuntman in some old Western movie.

When the sky began to lighten, the rain hadn’t eased any. A dull, gray dawn bled through the cracks beneath the boat’s edge, barely bright enough to distinguish from the darkness. Dan lay there, listening to the others stir. He felt the pull of morning, the desire to rise and move, to make coffee and start his day. Morning was the time he most missed the life they’d left behind in the Idaho mountain bunker. There had been coffee in a real kitchen, a digital music catalog they could play loud, and a warm fire. But with each passing mile, the longing to reunite with his kids grew stronger. It was the lure of his real home and real life as compared to the fantasy he’d been living out in Kyle’s bunker.

“So,” Holly said, breaking the silence of the morning. “I guess we're sitting this day out, huh?” Her voice was rough with sleep, but there was an edge to it, an irritation in having to admit they’d need to wait out the weather. She always hated being idle, preferring a task to accomplish and a clear goal to work toward each day.

“These jon boats catch a lot of water,” Jinks said from the shadows. “Kind of like sitting in a big old washtub. We’d have to bail constantly, or we’d be floating around in ankle-deep water all day.”

Krin’s sleepy voice followed. “Maybe someone should check the Weather Channel and see how long it’s going to last.”

Holly snorted. Nearly every day someone lamented the loss of a daily weather forecast. “I wish. The only weather channel we have these days is our eyeballs, and they don’t look too far into the future.”

No one felt a need to acknowledge the truth of that. The conversation died, swallowed by the relentless drumming of rain. No one wanted to leave the warmth of their sleeping bags or the dryness of their burrow beneath the aluminum boat, no matter how cramped it was. If they ventured out, rain would eventually penetrate the seams of their worn raingear and their boots. The day would go from bad to miserable in short order.

Time stretched on as they laid there, the hours blurring with monotony. They ventured out only when necessity drove them to—cooking a simple meal over a camp stove beneath the awning or taking hurried bathroom breaks out in the open. Each time someone returned from the call of nature, they shivered as the damp cold seeped into their skin. Jinks tried unsuccessfully to play his guitar, finding there wasn’t enough room anywhere for him to sit up and hold it properly. Holly tried reading, but there wasn’t enough natural light, and she didn’t want to waste battery power doing it by flashlight.

The air around them smelled of wet earth and smoke, mingled with the sharp tang of body odor and river water. Random gunshots from the city punctuated the white noise of the storm, a reminder that there was a violent world beyond their nest. Each shot left them a little more nervous and ready to get back on the road.

Eventually, night circled back around to them and the rain still hadn’t let up. They resigned themselves to another night beneath the boat. They opted to maintain the same teams for night watch, though no one had much to say about it. Holly lay there with her arms crossed, looking antsy but stubbornly refusing to complain about being stuck in place all day. Jinks hummed a tune under his breath and strummed an imaginary guitar since he didn’t have room to play his real one. Krin looked smaller than ever, curled into her sleeping bag like a kid who didn’t want to go to school.

It was another uneventful night and at some point, the storm finally broke. When Dan stirred the next morning, it was the pressure in his bladder that forced him up. He crawled out from beneath the boat into the cool morning air, pulling his jacket tight around him. The sky was gray, but the rain had mercifully stopped, leaving the world around them drab and dripping.

As he watered an already damp patch of earth, Dan noticed that the sound of the river was much different than it had been when they’d come ashore two days ago. In fact, it almost sounded as loud as the train they’d jumped off. He trudged through the woods until he could see it and found that the Missouri had transformed overnight. What had been a wide but lazy river now churned, its muddy waters roiling with violent energy. Logs, trash, and other debris were carried within the ferocious current. A knot tightened in Dan’s stomach.

When he ducked back beneath the boat, he found Holly was awake too. “I don’t hear any rain,” she said hopefully.

“No, but the water is up. It looks like there’s a little flooding going on.”

Jinks propped himself up on an elbow, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck out in all directions, like a mop left to dry in the wind. “A little flooding? That was a lot of damn rain.”

“I only have one day of experience on this river,” Dan said, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. “I’m no expert. The river is elevated but still in its banks.”

“Elevated?” Holly raised an eyebrow. “Or too elevated to venture out on?”

Dan threw his hands up in frustration. “Again, not the expert around here. How about we all go outside and look at it together?”

Groaning, the rest of the group climbed out of their sleeping bags and tugged on their boots. They crawled out from beneath the boat, their limbs stiff from the cold and the long hours spent lying still. They stretched and tried to shake off the chill of the damp air.

Krin wandered into the woods, calling back, “I can’t look at a river when I have to pee this bad.”

By the time she returned, the rest of them were already gathered at the river’s edge, staring at the swollen river, twisted and churning past them.

Holly looked glum. “That’s…concerning. I’m not so sure I want to venture out into that, especially in our tiny boat. We’d be like a cork in the ocean.”

Jinks swept his hair back, then stuck his hat on his head. “The upside—if there is an upside—is that the water is moving twice the speed it was yesterday. If we do give it a shot, we’ll cover a lot of ground.”

“Or die trying,” Holly pointed out.

“You’d risk taking your guitar out on that river?” Dan asked Jinks.

Jinks stared at the water for a long moment. “Yeah, I’d risk it.”

“If it’s safe enough for Jinks’ guitar, it’s safe enough for me,” Dan said, not sounding totally convinced. He’d hoped saying it aloud would make the idea sound more appealing, but so far it hadn’t worked.

Holly looked doubtful. “I guess we can try it.”

Krin didn’t have an opinion, usually willing to go along with whatever the rest of the group chose to do. She didn’t look happy about it, though.

They dismantled their camp, packing their gear with a practiced efficiency. Even after all their time on the road, they were normally enthusiastic in the mornings, anxious to see how far they’d get each day. Today they were tense, just hopeful they wouldn’t die before the day was out.

They stood on the riverbank, contemplating the wisdom of their decision. Yesterday the broad Missouri had been an ideal way to cover ground if they could avoid getting shot from the shoreline. Today it was as if the river itself was the looming threat. Rivers were indifferent and merciless. They moved with unstoppable force, carrying away cars, houses, bridges, and trees. They carved and reshaped the land. Their tiny boat and their frail bodies were nothing to this dark river. It would kill them without hesitation or compassion.

Dan forced a weak smile. “Well, I guess we need to do this if we’re going to. We’re not getting anywhere by standing here staring at it.”

“If anyone wants to speak up or back out, this is the time,” Holly said, sounding hopeful someone would come up with a good reason for them to not venture out onto the water today. When no one spoke up, she exhaled sharply. “Then let’s do this.”

“Where do you want us?” Dan asked.

Holly frowned, annoyance crossing her face. “When did I get elected captain?”

“Yesterday!” the others said in unison.

Dan and Krin understood that Holly had taken charge of this expedition from day one. Her intensity and decisiveness made her the natural leader, even if she bristled at the title. Perhaps her hesitation stemmed from the difficulty that came with trying to wrangle Dan, which was akin to herding cats.

Settling into her role, Holly handed out orders. “Dan, I want you in the front with a paddle. Krin and Jinks, you get in the middle with weapons. I’ll take the back and rig up the paddle like a rudder again. Keep your weapons slung around your body at all times. Don’t lay them down. If the boat lurches, I don’t want them flying into the water.”

No one argued. Holly’s plan created a pocket of order amidst the chaos and the group moved with a new urgency. When everyone was on board, Holly shoved off the bank. The current immediately grabbed hold of their boat and carried them away from the shore. Although Holly might be the captain, it was the river that was now in charge. Their chests tightened as the boat was pulled into the deeper current with surprising speed. The safety of their riverside camp shrank away behind them, replaced by a vast expanse of roiling brown water on all sides. The current was scary-fast, shoving them along at a breakneck pace.

“Is it too late to change my mind?” Dan yelled over the sound of the water. His voice cracked with a nervous laugh that rang hollow.

Her face tense, Holly worked the rudder. “We’re in it now. We might as well ride it out for a while and see what happens.”

“Maybe it won’t be so scary after we get used to it,” Krin suggested. “Maybe.”

Dan stared at the paddle in his hands. “What exactly am I supposed to do with this? It’s not like we need to go any faster.”

“Use it to keep us alive,” Holly ordered. “Shove us away from any logs or debris that might tip us over. You can also help steer. We need to make sure we don’t end up broadside to the current. I want to keep us close enough to shore that we can get off the water in a hurry if we need to, but far enough away that we stay away from any overhanging trees.”

While Dan understood the words, understanding didn’t translate to confidence. He swallowed hard and gripped the paddle like it was a baseball bat and he was stepping up to the plate. He studied the water around him with a new intensity, watching for any waterborne threats while Krin and Jinks were hopefully doing the same with the shoreline.

Eventually, their initial panic eased some. Dan and Holly found a rhythm on the fierce water, paddling and steering around the debris that materialized around them with blinding speed. Jinks had been correct when he pointed out that the current would help them cover the miles quickly if they could harness it. The landscape passed by in a blur.

An hour passed before Holly allowed herself a tentative smile. “I guess this isn’t so bad. It feels manageable right now.”

While Dan wanted to believe her, he didn’t dare feel hopeful. In his experience, hope only opened the door to disaster and disappointment. They all took turns with the paddles, switching positions as the current allowed, and for a time they rode the adrenaline wave the chaos produced.

As they drifted closer to Kansas City, the evidence of civilization returned, bringing with it the dread and unease that populated areas produced. They passed people standing along the riverbank watching the water with unreadable expressions, eyes tracking the debris carried by the current. In other places, anchored houseboats rocked violently in the high water, straining against their moorings. Some of the houseboats were upscale affairs, gleaming white fiberglass craft that surely cost millions of dollars. Others were homemade affairs, like cabins built on pontoons, and had smoke spiraling from chimney pipes. Despite longing for the warmth of a woodstove and a dry bed, Dan wasn’t sure his stomach was up for life on one of those bobbing and pitching houseboats.

“Uh, what’s that?” Krin, her voice sharp with alarm, pointed ahead, her gloved finger trembling slightly. She was taking a turn at the rudder while Holly sat in the middle.

Dan squinted into the distance, but the glare off the water made it hard for him to see clearly. “What is it?”

“That!” Krin insisted, her voice rising in pitch.

Holly leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the river. Her breath caught when she saw it. “Is that some kind of cable? There’s no way we’ll clear it.”

Then Dan saw it too and strained to make sense of the obstacle. “Maybe we can lift it and go under it.”

Jinks let out a short, humorless laugh from the front of the boat. “I don’t think you can lift that. It’s not just a cable. It looks like some kind of homemade bridge to me.”

Dan’s fear turned to anger. “Why the hell would there be a bridge there? This is a navigable river. Boats use it all the time. At least they did.”

Holly was on the move, shifting her weight carefully as she made her way toward the stern. “Switch out with me, Krin.”

Krin quickly scooted to the side, holding onto the rudder until Holly dropped beside her. When Holly had control of the rudder, Krin latched onto the gunwale and stared at the swinging bridge looming closer with each passing second. “What are we going to do?”

“We need to get as close to the shore as we can,” Holly said through clenched teeth. “We might be able to clear it along the bank, but we don’t stand a chance out here. The bridge sags in the middle.”

Dan scanned the closest bank, noting the pile of logs and tangled driftwood backed up against the bridge. His stomach lurched. “We can’t get under it near the bank. If we get in those logs, we’ll flip.”

Holly’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising into a string of curses that overpowered the roar of the water. “There might be clearance on the other side, but I don’t know if we have enough time to get there. Paddle hard, Jinks. Don’t let us get broadside to the current.”

Jinks leaned into the paddle at the bow position, his muscles straining as he tried to angle them toward the opposite shoreline. The boat fought Jinks and Holly, the current threatening to twist them sideways and dump them into the cold water. Every second was a gamble, a calculated risk against the force of the river.

Dan’s heart hammered against his ribs, a countdown that was possibly ticking off just how many seconds he had before he was killed. He couldn’t shake the image of their small boat hitting the bridge cables and capsizing. There was no way they’d make it to shore trying to swim in these cold floodwaters. Overturning the boat was a death sentence.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Dan said calmly. “There’s no way. We need another plan.”

“We have to try!” Holly shot back, her tone fierce and unyielding. She kept her gaze locked on the far bank, as if sheer determination could slow the river and give them the time they needed to reach safety.

Dan knew it wasn’t happening. His eyes darted to the structure ahead. “That’s a homemade bridge. The sides are open and those upper cables are just handrails. We might be able to get between those cables.”

An idea formed in the back of his mind. He drew his knife from his belt and cut the ropes that bound their gear to the boat, his movements quick and desperate.

“What the hell are you thinking, Dan?” Krin asked, her voice rising in panic. “We’re running out of time.”

“The only thing we can do! We’re going to have to climb onto that bridge and let the boat go.” Dan met Krin’s wide-eyed stare and shrugged. “Unless you have another idea.”

Holly’s cursing grew louder, more frantic, but Dan recognized the resignation there. She was using anger to mask her fear. It was the same way Dan used humor as a coping skill.

He shot Holly a reassuring look. “We can do this.”

Holly looked doubtful, but if Dan had any doubts, there was no way he was letting them show now. He was the one rallying the troops and he needed to portray confidence, even if he was faking it. He handed out their packs, his hands shaking from the adrenaline dump.

“Put your packs on! The boat is probably going to turn broadside as soon as it hits the bridge. We’ll only have a second or two to hop off. You can’t hesitate.”

“I hate this plan!” Holly shouted. For once, she sounded less like the leader they all relied on and more like someone a hair’s breadth from their breaking point.

“Join the club,” Dan fired back. “I’m pretty sure I’d hate drowning even worse.”

The brown water churned around the boat as they drew closer to the makeshift bridge. Each second stretched out, a frustrating mix of time flying by at an unstoppable pace while at the same time ticking by with excruciating slowness. Dan forced himself to stand, legs wobbling from the boat’s unsteady movement. They were down to seconds now, the distance between them and the swinging bridge shrinking rapidly.

“Get ready!” Dan yelled.

Holly abandoned the rudder and struggled to pull on her pack. Her movements were sharp and precise, her eyes fixed on the cable that loomed ahead of them. The others had their packs on, their weapons slung around their neck. They braced for the impact.

Positioned at the bow, Jinks dropped his paddle into the bottom of the boat. He looked determined, terrified, yet wildly exhilarated at the same time. Catching Dan’s eye, he winked. “We got this, buddy!”

They hit the bridge and the boat shuddered violently when the bow struck the lower cable with a grinding impact. Dan was thrown forward, his arms flailing, fighting to catch his balance. Jinks vaulted from the boat, landing on the wooden planks in ankle deep water. He staggered then caught himself, turning back to the boat just in time to help Krin scramble up beside him. Dan had fallen across one of the aluminum seats and struggled to get his legs beneath him. The pack threw off his balance and the floor of the boat was slippery from taking on water. Panic clawed at Dan’s chest, yet before he surrendered to it, Holly latched onto his pack and shoved him forward with surprising strength.

“Move it!” she screamed, her voice desperate.

Holly got one leg onto the bridge and had one in the boat, pulling on Dan as the powerful river threatened to wrap their aluminum boat around the steel cable with Dan inside it. Dan gripped the handrail cable in front of him with both hands, yanking his legs up and out of the boat just as it lurched beneath him. With the weight of the passengers gone, the boat turned fully broadside and pressed against the swinging bridge.

Holly and Krin each kept one hand on the cable, using their other to grab Dan and pull him away from the boat before he got carried away with it. Dan got his feet beneath him and held onto the cable with a death grip. The submerged planks were slick as moss-covered rocks and the current, though only ankle deep, tugged at him like some nightmarish creature determined to drag him into the depths of the river.

Beneath their feet, the bridge cables shuddered when the heavy boat was pushed hard against it. The whole structure vibrated as the cables snapped taut. For a terrifying instant, Dan imagined those cables snapping and dumping them into the deadly current. Then, without warning, whatever force was holding the boat against the bridge yielded. The boat lunged, popped into the air, and shot across the bridge like a slippery fish wriggling loose from a child’s hands. Everyone watched paralyzed, expecting to see the boat vanish downstream.

Krin screamed. They all turned, expecting to see that she’d fallen into the river, but she was pointing at the boat. Pointing inside at the nylon gig bag containing Jinks’ guitar. He’d forgotten it in the chaos. Jinks cursed and reached for it but missed. Without hesitation, he dove toward the moving boat just as the current whisked it off the bridge and down the river.

“Jinks!” Krin’s scream cracked through the air when she lost sight of him.

For a second, Dan wasn’t even sure if Jinks had made it into the boat or not. It had been moving quickly when it topped the bridge. Then Jinks pushed himself up off the bottom and they caught a glimpse of him in the fast-moving boat, clutching his ribs, his face twisted with agony. He crawled for the paddle they’d been using as a rudder and shoved it to one side, guiding the boat toward the shoreline.

The boat turned too sharply, the river threatening to capsize it. Jinks corrected his course, easing off the rudder a bit. After an eternity, the boat scraped against the muddy bank. Jinks shot out a hand and caught the low branch of a gnarled tree. He tied off to it with the yellow nylon rope, then collapsed back into the boat, cradling his side.

“He made it!” Dan’s voice held a mix of shock and relief.

Dan, Krin, and Holly held onto the cable handrail and carefully stepped off the slippery bridge, anxious to put the whole experience behind them.

“I guess without cars, people needed a shortcut across the river,” Holly said, trying to make sense of the improvised bridge. “There’s a path through the weeds leading to it.”

Dan spat into the water, his lips curling in frustration. “I’d like to find the asshole that built this bridge and string him up before we leave town.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault, Dan. There was probably plenty of clearance beneath it before the river flooded.”

“Even so, I hate it when other people’s ingenuity inconveniences me.”

Once they were on solid ground, everyone breathed a bit easier. They followed a narrow trail downstream, walking as quickly as they could. When they reached the jon boat, Krin knelt by Jinks.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I will be eventually. Right now I feel like a Little League team used me for batting practice.”

“That was awesome,” Dan said. “It was like watching a Jackie Chan movie.”

Holly shook her head. “It was a stupid risk for a guitar, Jinks. You could have gotten a new one, I’m sure. I’m glad it worked out.”

Jinks smiled weakly. “That one is special. There’s a lot of memories in that case.”

Holly double-checked the rope to make sure Jinks’ knot was secure. “How about we take a brief break? I’d like to chill out a second before we hit the river again. And Dan, this isn’t a weed break. Remember what I told you last night. I need your head in the game.”

Dan considered for a moment how the day might have gone had he been stoned during what they had just gone through. Would he have gotten himself killed? Would he have gotten someone else killed? Would he have thought of climbing out onto the bridge or would he have sat there paralyzed? He couldn’t imagine they’d have gotten out unscathed if he was only hitting on half his cylinders. Perhaps there was a lesson there.

Dan lowered his pack to the ground and opened the top flap. He reached inside and pulled out the gallon-sized Ziploc bag that contained the last of the weed from Kyle Cross’s place. Without a second thought, he tossed it into the river and let the swirling current take it. While he was refastening the lid of his pack, Holly came over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

7

Dan's group sat in a collective silence, resting strained muscles and gathering their thoughts. They drank water and longed for a nice hot lunch that never materialized. The river roiled behind them and they frequently checked to ensure their boat was where they’d left it.

Dan checked the watch he wasn’t wearing and cleared his throat. “Guess we better get back on the road, huh?”

After a few grunts and groans, everyone got to their feet and returned to the aluminum boat.

“I had a lot more faith in this thing before we hit that bridge,” Krin said. “Now it seems kind of…dinky.”

“The dinky dinghy,” Dan proclaimed. “Sounds like a kids’ book.”

Jinks grinned. “The heartwarming story of four idiots and the string of bad decisions that almost killed them.”

“Hearkens back to one of my favorite sayings,” Dan said. “I’m not useless, I can be used as a bad example.”

“Story of my life,” Jinks agreed.

They pushed off from the bank and the boat slipped back into the swift embrace of the Missouri. The muddy water swirled around them with its bounty of branches, leaves, trash, and who knew what else. After their near disaster, they didn’t let their guard down this time, nor did they stray any farther from the shore than they had to. By mutual agreement they preferred taking their chances with whatever rogues and miscreants populated the riverbank than to risk death by drowning.

They were hypercautious now, all of them eyeing every ripple and eddy with suspicion. Dan’s gaze roved from the water ahead of them to the tree-lined banks alongside them. All the while, he kept replaying the scene of Jinks diving for the boat in his mind. There were so many ways that could have ended badly.

Dan couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Jinks, that was... something…back there. As fine a display of stupid bravery as I’ve ever personally witnessed.”

Jinks stretched, then gently probed his aching ribs with the tips of his fingers. “Well, some of us were graced with talent and good looks instead of brains."

“There it is again,” Holly muttered. “With yours and Dan’s inflated egos, I’m surprised there’s room for anyone else in this boat.”

Dan patted Holly on the knee. “When I brag about myself, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know already. I’m just reminding you of how special I am, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Krin wasn’t letting Jinks off the hook so easily. “I’m not as easily impressed as Dan. Don’t make a habit of doing shit like that. We’ve all seen enough death already.”

No one could argue with the truth of that.

They settled into a new rhythm and the flood-swollen waters bore them forward at a satisfying speed. Like the train ride days earlier, every mode of transportation available to them, even walking, carried some inherent risk. It was a dangerous time simply to be alive. It reminded Dan of the conversations he and Holly had before leaving the bunker in Idaho, pondering the pros and cons of making this journey. While they had known there would be danger, those risks had seemed more manageable when they were living a safe, comfortable life.

The scenery around them shifted as they left the quieter stretches of the river behind. On the outskirts of Kansas City they encountered expensive riverfront homes with sprawling overgrown lawns. Some of the homes appeared to be occupied while others were no more than burned out shells occupying expensive real estate. The luxury homes soon gave way to industrial warehouses and rusted docks crowded the riverbanks. There were tugboats, barges, and other kinds of boats Dan was unfamiliar with. One barge was stacked high with coal and people wandered the deck, shoving lumps of coal into sacks and backpacks.

They passed a derelict riverboat with signs advertising dinner and a show, now overtaken by a new kind of crew. Smoke billowed from a makeshift stove on an upper deck, while clothes flapped on lines strung between railings. Children shrieked with laughter, chasing each other along the weathered decks, their shrill cries echoing across the water.

Dan and his people did nothing to draw attention to themselves, hoping to remain unnoticed, yet it was a lost cause. The river, vast as it was, cut through the center of the most populated part of the city. People gathered along the riverboat’s railing, their faces shadowed, expressions impossible to read across the distance. They didn’t wave or speak, simply watched the smaller boat drift past.

“I wish they’d go back to whatever they were doing and quit staring at us,” Krin whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Holly.

Holly didn’t take her eyes off the water ahead. “They haven’t made any threatening gestures yet so let’s not give them a reason to change their minds.”

Once they floated past the paddlewheel riverboat, the air thickened with the smell of smoke, decay, and human waste. Both shores of the river were densely populated here. Improvised shanties lined the docks, ramshackle constructions of plywood, tarps, and whatever other materials could be scavenged. They looked thrown together out of desperation, shelters for people with nowhere else to go. Men, women, and children lined the docks, fishing with all manner of pole and handline, though Dan couldn’t imagine they were catching much in the high, muddy water. In the distance, others huddled around fires, cooking something not identifiable by the odor.

“Why are they all congregating on the river and living in squalor?” Dan muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Surely there have to be better sources of water and food around. I’d get the hell out of this stinking city.”

“It’s how civilization began, Dan. Living along roads is only a modern thing.” Jinks leaned back, gesturing toward the ragged skyline of Kansas City. “Early man clustered along rivers because they were the thoroughfares. They carried food, trade, and people. When the rails came, cities grew along those, then along the highways. Now that everything’s broken down, people go back to the old ways. Rivers are the roads again.”

“The danger with boats is that it’s easy to float into hostile territory and get killed,” said Holly. “It was true centuries ago, and it’s true now.”

“Definitely something to keep in mind.” Dan glanced warily at the gaunt figures watching them from the shoreline.

A short distance later they approached a highway bridge and Holly scanned it with her binoculars. Being exposed in an open boat, passing under any bridge was a concern.

“See anything?” asked Dan.

“Movement, but I can’t tell what they’re doing yet.” She studied the bridge as they got closer and could make out figures standing on some kind of platform, their shapes barely distinguishable against the overcast sky. Then Holly saw it wasn’t a platform at all, but a semi-trailer that had come to a stop on the bridge when the EMP disabled most vehicles.

“What are they doing up there?” Jinks asked.

They were getting close enough now that everyone could see the people on the bridge, even with the naked eye. Then a heavy splash in the water near the bridge answered Jinks’ question.

"Bricks,” Holly said. “There’s a load of bricks stuck on the bridge and they’re throwing them into the water.”

“That’s not a game I want to play,” Dan said seriously. “You get hit with a brick and it’s game over.”

The activity on the bridge had slowed, likely because the people throwing bricks had seen the small aluminum boat headed in their direction. Holly could almost hear the thoughts passing through their heads, the question of whether they should throw bricks at the boat or let it pass. She’d been a cop long enough to understand that they were weighing the consequences of that course of action. Soon enough they’d realize that under these conditions there would be no consequences. They could do whatever they wanted. When they reached that conclusion, all bets were off.

“They’re going to do it,” Holly said. “I know they are.”

“Can we outrun them?” Krin asked. “Or dodge them?”

Jinks pulled his short shotgun into his lap. “No way we’re dodging them. They can run along that bridge way faster than we can paddle.”

“Then what the hell are we going to do?” Krin’s voice was shrill, on the verge of panic. The day was far from over and her nerves were already frayed to the point of breaking.

“We could try to reach the shoreline and get off the river,” Holly suggested. “Maybe we could reason with them.”

Jinks shook his head. “That would be a waste of time.”

Dan was considerably less calm. “If we get hit with one of those bricks, it’ll punch a hole in the bottom of this boat if we’re lucky. If we’re not so lucky, one of us gets hit in the head and ends up looking like roadkill.”

Holly opened her mouth to reply, but Dan cut her off with a bout of cursing.

“I’m not sitting here and waiting for it.” Dan shouldered his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the shot echoed off the bridge, the buildings, and the concrete surfaces surrounding them.

“Don’t kill them,” Holly said through gritted teeth.

“They probably weren’t concerned about killing us,” Jinks said matter-of-factly.

Holly knew that was true and so did Dan. He fired steadily in the direction of the bridge.

“It’s only suppressive fire!” Dan said, speaking too loudly since his gunfire had impaired his hearing. “I’m just trying to clear them out.”

From what Holly could see through the binoculars, Dan’s approach was working. The figures on the bridge scattered like startled birds at the sound of gunfire. Some ran for the far end of the bridge while others ducked beneath vehicles, out of Dan’s line of fire.

After a dozen or so rounds, they were close enough to the bridge that Dan could no longer fire on the position where the brick-throwers had been located. The boat glided beneath the bridge, the sound of the water taking on an odd quality as it bounced off the concrete bridge abutments.

“They might be waiting for us when we come out the other side,” Holly warned. “All of you need to be ready.”

Everyone on the boat already had their weapons in hand, safeties off, ready to continue Dan’s work if the situation required.

“Do you think they have guns?” Krin asked.

As if her words conjured it, a sharp crack split the air, and a bullet slapped into the water fifteen feet to their left. It sent up a plume of spray that splashed all of them.

Dan looked up and caught a man’s face grinning at him through the railing, a handgun pointed in their direction. Dan fired on him while Krin and Jinks searched for the target and joined the fight. It was unclear if they were hitting anything or not, but they managed to keep the shooters pinned down.

All the while, the river’s current carried them swiftly downstream and away from the bridge. Every foot they gained was a reprieve. The tension loosened slightly with each yard of distance. Dan’s people continued to fire in short bursts at the bridge. As the distance between them and the bridge increased, the brick-throwers became emboldened. They regrouped, brandishing handguns, and fired on the boat. Their aim grew more erratic as the distance increased and none of the shots were even close.

Jinks reloaded his shotgun for the fourth time. “Hopefully, we’re out of their range because they’re out of mine.”

“We’re not out of range,” Holly corrected. “Just beyond the distance most people can accurately hit with a handgun. Keep that in mind.”

With that warning, Dan emptied the rest of his magazine on the brick-throwers, then swapped it out for a fresh one. It wasn’t until the bridge was a distant silhouette behind them, half-obscured by the bend of the river, that the gunfire ceased. Dan noticed that his hands were shaky, an after-effect of facing death.

“That’s one more example of what I was saying earlier about water travel having its drawbacks.” Holly was holding onto the rudder with a white-knuckled grip. “It might be easier than walking, but only if you survive the trip.”

No one argued the point and soon the riverbank was again crowded with scenes that blurred the line between survival and suffering. Tent cities sprouted like weeds among the industrial infrastructure, dirty tarps flapping in the wind. The plywood shacks and makeshift huts resembled something out of a distant, forgotten corner of the world. Hollow-eyed men hauled in trot lines, pulling writhing catfish from the brown water, and tossing them into plastic totes. Nearby, a woman with wild hair beat a goose to death with a mop handle, then proudly slung it over her back.

The smell of wood smoke hung in the air, mingled with the acrid scent of unwashed bodies and the greasy tang of makeshift cooking fires. As they floated by, Dan tried not to think too hard about what might be simmering in those pots. It was a village of desperation, a place where hope had worn thin and left behind only those who were too stubborn to leave.

8

They began to breathe easier when they started to make their way out of Kansas City. It was Dan’s first visit to the city, but he assumed it had to be a shell of its former self. Every city in the United States was probably experiencing the same thing. Behind them, the sun sank lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the water as the buildings thinned and the river’s banks turned wild again. Gone were the tent cities and the waterfront tribes with their hostile, glowering looks. They were back to seeing large riverfront estates with landscaped yards, fancy docks, and expensive boats.

“This has been a day,” Dan announced. “I’m looking forward to getting some solid ground beneath my feet.”

“We should be able to stop soon,” Holly said. “The homes are thinning out, but we obviously don’t want to camp in someone’s yard. A lot of these places look occupied, and I can’t imagine they’d be receptive to that.”

“Good way to wake up dead,” Jinks commented. He held his hand up to the horizon and used his fingers to calculate the time remaining until sunset. “Maybe an hour left. We have time.”

“There’s someone on that dock ahead of us,” Krin said in a low voice. “Right side of the river.” After the experience with the brick throwers, they’d been on edge the rest of the day. None of them wanted another hostile encounter.

Holly raised her binoculars in the direction Krin was pointing. “It’s the most normal thing I’ve seen all day. Looks like an old man drinking a beer and playing with his dog.”

“Those old people are the worst kind of dangerous,” Dan said, only halfway teasing. “Growing old isn’t for the weak. I’m reminded of it every day.”

“And you remind us about it every day too,” Krin teased.

Dan scowled. “Just you wait. When you throw your back out one day simply from getting bread out of the toaster, I want you to remember this conversation.”

The old man had spotted them too, and he didn’t appear alarmed at their presence. He didn’t brandish a weapon to try and intimidate them or run off screaming. Instead, he just sat there in a teak Adirondack chair, a bottle of beer in his hand, watching a furry white Maltese dog priss around the dock and bark at debris as it floated by.

“We had one of those dogs when the kids were small,” Dan said wistfully. “It said goodbye to me when I left for work each morning and was the first to welcome me home every day. Slept in the bed beside me. I miss the hell out of that dog. I can’t talk about it to this day without tearing up.”

Jinks nodded. “They get inside your soul. Someone once said they give you the best days of your life, then one of the worst when they die.”

Holly gave Dan a surprised look. “I didn’t know you were a dog person.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not a people person,” Dan snapped.

Krin side-eyed Dan and winked at him. “Stating the obvious.”

The movement of their boat on the fast-moving current finally caught the dog’s attention. It had been barking at a leaf, but something floating by with people on it was infinitely more interesting. It kicked with its back feet and woofed at the aluminum boat with a renewed intensity. Dan was lost in memory, remembering the way his own dog had barked so aggressively at delivery men, strangers, or the sound of the wind.

Dan twisted in his seat so he could watch the dog as they passed. Then, as if in slow motion, the old dog got too close to the edge of the dock, slipped, and dropped into the river. The old man immediately cried out and launched himself from his chair, but it was too late. Both Dan and the old man searched the muddy river, waiting for the dog to resurface among the churning current.

When finally it popped up, the old man cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed its name. The dog reacted to the man’s voice, turning toward him and trying to swim, but the current was too strong. It bobbed along helplessly.

“Steer toward it!” Dan yelled, slapping Holly on the leg.

She did as he asked, but the boat was slow to respond. They were also ahead of the dog. It would never catch up to the boat, whether by accident or intention.

“Turn around or something! Paddle!” Dan screamed.

“We can’t get to it!” Holly yelled. “There’s too much current!”

The old man loped off the dock and Dan lost sight of him. He’d nearly lost sight of the dog too. Its head was no bigger than a baseball and its white fur was now the color of the muddy river. Without another thought, Dan stood and tore off his coat.

“No!” Holly screamed, reaching for him. “No!”

Dan didn’t hear her and wouldn’t have stopped if he had. He leapt over the side of the boat and landed in the bracing Missouri River. The water surpassed any cold Dan had ever experienced before, instantly taking his breath. He had the sudden awareness that it was cold enough he would die from it if he didn’t act quickly. Maybe at his age it could stop his heart and he’d end up washing down the river like some banged-up piece of driftwood.

The frigid water made it difficult to swim. Dan’s muscles constricted and his limbs felt heavy. They were slow to respond to his commands, though eventually he flailed at the water in something that resembled swimming. Krin, Holly, and Jinks were all yelling at Dan to turn around, then they were yelling at each other about how best to rescue him. He ignored them, searching for the small dog in the river.

He quickly figured out that swimming a direct path to where he’d last seen the dog wasn’t going to work. There was no way he was swimming upstream against the current. It hadn’t worked for the dog, and neither was it going to work for him. He was able to swim across it, however, and cut a lateral path, hoping it would allow him to intercept the dog before his body began to shut down. He swam harder, expecting that his arms and legs would eventually limber up, but they never did. They were like uncooperative chunks of wood.

Dan was reminded of the old video game Frogger, in which the player tried to navigate a frog across a busy highway without getting run over. Dan felt much the same way as he tried to swim across the current while dodging pieces of driftwood, old boards, metal drums, bottles, and all manner of other floating debris. Halfway to the shore, he caught sight of the dog again and it didn’t appear to be swimming any more efficiently than he was. It was paddling and keeping its head above water, but there was panic in its eyes, searching for some way out of this predicament.

Dan flailed his limbs in an approximation of swimming, slowly getting himself closer to shore while being pulled rapidly downstream. Holly was either shouting instructions or curses at him—he wasn’t clear which—but he couldn’t turn around to see what she was going on about. He was afraid if he took his eyes off the small dog he’d never find it again.

Dan tried to call to the dog, but the cold made his jaw stiff and uncooperative, with only some unintelligible, shuddering sound coming out. Regardless, the dog heard a human voice and responded, turning its head toward Dan. The twenty feet separating them became ten, then five, then Dan made a grab for its collar and pulled the dog toward him. The small dog felt nearly weightless, more like a sodden wig than an animal, but there was warmth beneath the fur, and it didn’t fight him.

Of course now Dan was in the predicament of trying to swim with a dog in his arms when he’d barely been able to swim without one. Keeping one hand firmly latched onto its collar, he held the dog against his chest, then tried to roll onto his back like a lifeguard towing a drowning swimmer. The transition was awkward, and Dan sank below the surface for a moment when he tried to turn his body. What would have been a smooth move in a heated pool was nearly impossible in the frigid water.

Dan sucked in a mouthful of the Missouri and couldn’t spit it out fast enough. The water was gritty and had a pronounced oily, chemical taste. On top of it, the dog was now looking at him doubtfully, as if it had doomed itself to death by joining its fate with that of a barely competent human.

“We’re going to make it!” Dan said, his teeth chattering.

While Dan wasn’t sure if that was really the case or not, they were getting closer to the shore with each clumsy sweep of his arm. Stuck in the current, they were traveling ten feet downstream for each foot they progressed toward the shore. Dan couldn’t allow himself to think about that or what might possibly happen once he dragged his frozen ass onto the shoreline with soaked clothes and no supplies.

When he was within twenty-five feet of the shore, Dan’s limbs began to fail him. His body was shaking so violently that swimming was quickly becoming impossible. He went under and tried to feel for the riverbed with his feet, but it wasn’t there. He swam again and each kick, each stroke, took total concentration and force of will. The small dog against his chest was shivering violently. He wanted to speak to it, to offer some reassurance, but he couldn’t form words. He could barely form thoughts.

With his body on automatic pilot, they’d halved the distance to the shore. Only a dozen feet remained. Then ten feet. Then eight.

Dan’s arm failed, the cold contracting his bicep so violently it refused to paddle any further. The larger muscles of his legs, though they felt like wood, continued to kick. After each kick, he was propelled inches forward, then his head sank beneath the water. They were only feet away and Dan was no longer sure he could do it. He worried he was going to die right there, nearly within reach of shore. Each time his head went below the water it felt like it was going to be the last time. Getting it back above the surface to suck in another breath was an almost monumental task. Then his back scraped against a submerged boulder.

Moved by a surge of hope, Dan rolled onto his belly, got his knees on the rock, and crawled. The current tried to tug him downstream, not ready to surrender him. Dan got enough of his body out of the water that it lost its hold on him. He slowly advanced those last feet toward the shore, the dog clutched tightly to his chest. Though the pocked surface of the boulder was like crawling over gravel, the pain brought some clarity.

Although Dan was ecstatic to feel the squish of mud beneath his gloved hand, he was nowhere close to being out of danger. The cold breeze penetrated his soaked clothing and quickly carried away whatever body heat he had remaining. Dan released the dog. It licked him once on the nose, then shook off, slinging water all over Dan’s face. It made no attempt to leave, remaining beside the human and trembling violently.

When Dan rolled onto his back and attempted to unbutton his flannel shirt, his fingers refused to work. He tried to find his shirttails and rip the shirt open, but he couldn’t do that either. He looked over at the dog, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m…sorry. Shitty…rescue. Can’t even…save…myself.”

Dan tried to think about what he should do but found himself utterly unable to think at all. His brain was shutting down, stuck in a darkening and hopeless loop.

A hand latched onto Dan and pulled him clear of the river. He hadn’t even realized that everything below his knees was still in the water.

“Stay with me, Dan!”

It was Holly. She was going to save him.

9

Jinks opened a plastic pill bottle, extracted a wad of Vaseline-soaked cotton balls, and placed them on the ground in front of him. He lit them with a butane lighter, then gathered some tinder from around the base of a nearby pine tree. The material caught quickly, crackling and smoking, and Jinks frenetically searched the damp riverbank for more dry twigs and limbs to keep the fire going.

Krin tucked the trembling dog inside her jacket, zipping it up enough that only the dog’s head protruded. While the dog basked in her body heat, Krin helped Holly remove Dan’s wet clothes.

Dan shivered violently. “Sorry.”

Holly said nothing but wore a complicated expression as she unbuttoned Dan’s shirt. It was part worry, part disappointment, and part fear. “Don’t talk.” She gestured at Krin. “Help me hold him up.”

Holly held Dan’s hands and pulled him to a sitting position. She and Krin worked together to strip him of his flannel shirt and the base layer he wore beneath it. They each took a foot and removed his boots and socks.

“I’m going to stand you up,” Holly ordered. “You’ll have to help.”

It took a tremendous effort to get Dan to his feet. His muscles were stiff and uncooperative, all the blood leaving them to try and preserve his core temperature. Holly unbuckled Dan’s belt.

“Is that…all…you ever think…about,” Dan chattered.

Holly laughed, which turned into a sob. She was relieved by Dan’s stupid comment. Maybe it was a sign he’d be okay after all.

They stripped off his remaining clothes until he was standing there naked. In between tending his fire, Jinks unzipped a sleeping bag and spread it out on the ground. They sat Dan on it, then Krin and Holly laid down beside him, pressing themselves against his body. Jinks unzipped a second sleeping bag and spread it overtop them, then went back to working on the fire.

Jinks used his big Bowie knife to split branches and expose the dry wood inside. Soon, he had a roaring blaze going and they moved the sleeping bags as close to the fire as they safely could. The dog and Dan stopped shivering about the same time. Krin handed the damp dog over and Dan cradled it to his chest. It was going to take a lot to dry out all that fur.

“I want to…sit up,” Dan said.

They helped him to a sitting position, then wrapped the uppermost sleeping bag around him. Both Dan and the dog caught more heat from the fire this way. Jinks kept heaping on wood until the fire was nearly as tall as he was. That was when they heard loud voices coming down the trail toward them. Jinks had his shotgun slung around his neck and he brought it to bear. Holly and Krin had propped their rifles against trees while they were assisting Dan, but Holly drew her handgun and aimed toward the sounds.

“Fluffy!” a voice cried. “Fluffy! Can you hear me, girl? Come to Daddy. Fluffy!”

The old man from the dock came stumbling wild-eyed through the woods, two younger men on his heels. Both had rifles. They shouldered them in response to seeing guns aimed in their direction.

“Don’t move!” Holly ordered.

The dog in Dan’s arms jumped free, shook itself, and ran to the old man. He bent, scooped up the dog, and sobbed, hugging it tightly. He seemed oblivious to the standoff taking place around him, enjoying the reunion with his lost dog.

When he snapped out of it, he waved at the men with him, then at Holly and Jinks. “Let’s put the guns down, everyone. Let’s not spoil the moment. We were just out here trying to find my dog.”

Spotting Dan sitting by the fire wrapped in a sleeping bag, the old man approached him. He again gestured at Holly and Jinks to lower their weapons. “Please.”

They did so and everyone relaxed a bit. The old man stuck out a hand in Dan’s direction. “Excuse me for not hugging you, but I’m guessing you’re naked under that sleeping bag.”

Dan nodded and shook the man’s hand.

“I appreciate what you did back there,” the old man sighed. “This little dog is my best friend in the world, and I’d be lost without her.”

“I used to have one like that,” Dan said. “I can relate. Losing them is tough.”

The old man smiled. “You jumped in after her without a thought.”

“He does a lot of things without a thought,” Holly piped in.

The old guy jabbed a thumb in Dan’s direction. “Yeah, but he’s a good man. I can tell. Any guy who’d risk his life for a dog is okay in my book. My name is Sal, by the way.”

Dan introduced himself, then his companions.

“Dan, do you have any dry clothes?” Sal asked.

“Clothes, but not boots,” Dan replied.

“How about you guys come back to my place? You can be my guests for the night. I’ll serve you a hot meal and you can dry your boots by my fire. I owe you that much.”

Dan didn’t even check with the others before responding. The idea of a warm house, a hot meal, and dry boots had him sold instantly. “We’ll take you up on that. We just need to get our gear from the boat.”

Sal gestured at one of the men with him. “This is my son Reggie. He can show you the way. I’m going to head home and dry this girl off.”

“Fine with me,” Dan said, looking around at his people.

Though Holly didn’t object, Dan could see from her expression that she wasn’t entirely happy about him accepting the offer so quickly, especially without consulting with her first.

“Good.” Sal grinned. “I look forward to seeing you guys back at my place.” Sal turned and walked off, whispering to the dog tucked inside his coat. The other armed man followed him.

“Dan, you stay by the fire,” said Holly. “The rest of us will go back and get the gear.”

Without waiting for his response, they headed off, leaving him there naked, wrapped in a sleeping bag, with an armed stranger. It was a bit awkward, and Dan had no idea what to talk about. After a protracted silence, he said, “So that was some rain, huh?”

Reggie nodded. “Yeah, not a particularly good time to be out in a boat, especially a small one. From what Dad said, you guys were in one that wasn’t well-suited for the conditions.”

“It’s not well-suited for camping either. We slept under it while that storm was raging and it was pretty noisy. We’re just trying to get home and don’t have a lot of options.” He paused a moment. “I guess no one does.”

“Where’s home?”

“Tennessee.” Dan caught a chill, shivered, and moved closer to the fire. He wished they’d hurry up with his dry clothes.

“That was a good thing you did back there, saving my old man’s dog. That little furball means the world to him. I think he likes it better than he likes me.” Reggie laughed.

Dan acknowledged the joke with a smile. “I can relate to a guy who likes dogs better than people. Seriously, though, I’m not sure I even thought about it. I just reacted.”

Reggie jabbed a thumb back in the direction he’d come from. “Dad ran up to the house screaming that Fluffy fell in the river. He was hoping the dog would swim to shore and we’d find him walking home. Personally, I figured the dog was gone forever and we wouldn’t find shit. Losing that dog would…be a lot for him. It would be hard.”

Dan heard his friends coming up the trail. “We were just looking for a place to camp for the night when things went sideways. We hoped we’d find some woods or someplace where we could tie off without bothering anyone.”

“You’ll be more comfortable with us. I guarantee it.”

“Really? Your dad have a nice house?”

Reggie shrugged. “Not really a house, but it’s not bad. Not bad at all.”

10

Once the rest of Dan’s people were back, it took them around fifteen minutes to walk the riverside trail back to the spot where they’d first seen Sal sitting on the dock with his dog. Dan was glad to be off the nerve-wracking river and he appreciated the dry clothes, but he was more than ready to get his cold, clammy, water-logged boots off for the evening. They squished with every step, a constant reminder that he’d very nearly slept with the fishes tonight.

When they emerged in the overgrown backyard adjacent to the dock, Dan got a much better idea of Sal’s living conditions and they weren’t too shabby. While the grass was high and there were windblown leaves gathered against some of the furniture, it was obvious this was an expensive place. The lot was huge and the brick house in the distance was three stories high. The yard closer to the house had a vast, multi-tiered patio of stone pavers with a gazebo, an outdoor kitchen, a firepit, built-in planters, a fountain, and several tall concrete sculptures. Dan could imagine it was the kind of backyard where you could host a party for three hundred people if you could stand being around that many at one time.

“If it’s not too nosy a question, what does your dad do?” Dan asked. “Or what did he do? This is a really nice place.”

Reggie hesitated. “Uh…my dad has a hand in a lot of things. He’s kind of an…investor of sorts. Like a venture capitalist for the little guy.”

Reggie’s description drew one picture in Dan’s head, yet quite another in Holly’s. Dan was imagining a serial entrepreneur while Holly felt like Reggie was describing a loan shark. She cocked an eyebrow at Jinks to see if he picked up anything, but he was lost in conversation with Krin and not paying attention to anything else.

They intercepted a stone walkway leading from the dock to the house. Dan expected them to turn left toward the house, but Reggie turned right.

Dan paused. “Aren’t we going to the house?”

Reggie shook his head. “Oh no, we can’t heat the whole house under these conditions. Dad and I are staying on his houseboat.”

“What about the other gentleman?” Holly asked. “He a neighbor?”

“Security. Part of my dad’s protective detail,” Reggie replied. “My dad managed to accommodate most of his staff and their families during the disaster. Certainly the conditions aren’t what we’re all used to, but things could be worse. We’ve managed to get by.”

“Protective detail,” Dan repeated. “That’s pretty plush. I might have to look into that.”

Holly gave him the same eyeroll he got a hundred times a day.

“The houseboat is more comfortable than that house?” Jinks asked, finding it hard to believe.

Reggie gestured toward the house, walking toward the dock. “That house is modern in all senses, but it’s a beast. Twenty thousand square feet but the windows don’t even open. Without power, it might as well be a warehouse. We have people staying there but they can only heat a portion of it.”

“There are some fancy houseboats out there,” Dan commented. “We passed a few on the way downriver.”

Reggie laughed. “Yeah, Dad’s is nothing like that.”

“I don’t remember passing a houseboat in this stretch of the river,” Holly said. “How did we miss it?”

“We were probably too busy watching Sal on the dock,” said Krin.

“We’ve been wary of people,” Dan explained to Reggie. “Someone might look like an innocent old man playing with their dog, then whip out a gun and open fire on us.”

“You probably can’t see our boat from the river. There’s a creek that runs along the uppermost side of the property and dumps into the Missouri. Somehow my dad had it dredged deep enough that he could moor his boat there. Don’t ask me how he pulled that off.”

When they were close to the same dock the dog had jumped off of earlier, they still didn’t see a houseboat. The stone walkway led to a boardwalk which followed Sal’s riverfront property for nearly fifty yards before it hooked left into an inlet. Once they turned the corner at the inlet, they spotted Sal’s “houseboat” tied off to a long dock. Because of the way the channel bent, the boat would have been difficult to spot from the river. That was why they hadn’t seen it when they floated by earlier.

“That’s not exactly what I was picturing,” Dan said as they approached the craft. “Is that even a houseboat?”

Reggie shook his head. “Not really. There’s plenty of multi-million-dollar houseboats around with every amenity you can imagine. My dad could have bought one of those, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted this.”

“So what kind of boat is it?” Jinks asked. “Or rather, what did it start out as?”

Reggie stopped on the dock and launched into his narrative like a well-practiced tour guide. “That is a 1920s steam ferry my dad bought in Louisiana and had brought up here. At various times it’s been a casino, a bar, a showboat, and a whorehouse. He had it dry-docked, refitted, and replaced the steam engine with diesels. Obviously, the modern engines don’t run now because of the EMP, but it’s quite comfortable.”

Dan noticed smoke rising from a steel chimney. “It has wood heat?”

“Yes, and it’s toasty. Let’s get inside and we’ll show you around.”

“I like it.” Dan grinned. “I could live in something like this.”

Reggie smiled. “Then you and my dad will get along famously.”

They climbed an aluminum gangplank that led from the dock to the varnished teak deck of the steamer. Around them, every surface appeared polished or freshly painted. Every fitting was period authentic to the point Dan couldn’t tell if they were original or reproductions. It was obvious Sal had spent a fortune on his pet project. The only thing out of place was the neat stack of firewood in a metal rack by the door.

Dan whistled in admiration, taking in the scene. “Now this is living.” They hadn’t stayed anywhere this nice since leaving Kyle Cross’ bunker in Idaho. After all the intervening nights spent sleeping on the ground, the houseboat felt like a luxury hotel, and they hadn’t even seen the inside yet.

Reggie leaned against the deck railing. “It was better living when this thing had a working engine. If we got out on the river now, we’d be at the mercy of the current. We might be able to steer a little but that would be it. These boats weren’t really maneuverable on their best days. Let’s get inside. I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of those wet boots and get a drink in you.”

“A drink?” Dan perked up. “As in liquor?”

“If that’s what you want,” Reggie replied. “We have a full bar with beer, wine, and a basic selection of cocktails.”

Dan was unable to hide his exuberance. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get inside.” Though Dan had owned a few canoes and kayaks over the years, for the most part, the world of boats was a mystery to him. He certainly had no experience with anything even close to the vintage riverboat and was anxious to explore it.

Reggie opened a door and gestured for them to enter. “Please step inside. If you don’t mind, muddy boots go on the rug to your right. Dad is picky about the floors.”

Dan and his people cleared their weapons before they went inside. Once through the door, they leaned them against the wall, removed their packs, then stripped off their boots. Even the entry foyer, where the door had just stood open, was warm and cozy. Their cheeks soon flushed from the heat. They’d spent so much time outside since leaving Idaho that being in a warm room felt like a novelty.

Reggie led them into a large parlor, and it took Dan a moment to take it in. The immediate impression was of a restored lodge, one in which the owners had taken great pains to maintain the original feel of the place. It was plush and rustic all at the same time. Dan could easily imagine it full of casino games and packed with a raucous crowd of well-dressed patrons.

Wooden floors, polished by nearly a century of traffic, had been refinished to a high luster. The walls were paneled in rich, dark oak and held functional oil lantern sconces that were likely original to the boat. Those put off a pale yellow light while the more modern electronic light fixtures remained dark and useless. There was a painting on the wall that appeared to show this very vessel captured at the height of its popularity. The space was tastefully arranged with soft leather couches and overstuffed chairs, everything either antique or period-correct reproductions. The air smelled of wood smoke and cigars.

There were large windows along each outside wall, framed by thin metal strips that reminded Dan of early twentieth century factories. A long wooden bar with a brass footrail was backed with shelves containing dozens of bottles of various wines and liquors. The glassware was neatly displayed in racks and ready for use. Several Jotul stoves were positioned on tile hearths set into the wood floors. Steel stovepipes ran up and out the ceiling. A pot simmered on one woodstove and the hearty smell bubbling from beneath the lid added a complexity to the aroma of the room.

Sal was stretched out in a vintage-looking leather recliner near one roaring woodstove. Fluffy was on his lap, wrapped in a plush blanket with only her head exposed. They were both basking in the heat after their adventures outdoors. Sal had changed clothes and now wore slippers, polyester pants, and a V-neck shirt that was a size too small.

Most people dressed down in the current social environment to avoid attracting attention and being robbed. The country was too lawless to wear anything flashy. Sal was either unconcerned or hadn’t received the memo. Then again, he did have a personal protective detail and that was a luxury most people didn’t have available to them. Sal’s fingers were adorned with heavy gold rings that glinted as he stroked his dog. A chunky gold chain was draped around his neck. He wore an expensive watch on a thick wrist, a relic from the days when time and punctuality mattered. Dan pegged him as being in his mid to late sixties, a vibrant man, albeit slightly overweight.

Sal looked up from petting his dog with a friendly smile. “Welcome aboard. Forgive me for not getting up, but my dog is comfortable and she runs the show around here.”

Reggie nodded in agreement. “That’s a fact.”

“Poor thing had a tough day,” Krin said.

Dan nodded. “I can relate.”

Sal’s voice was gravelly, as if years of smoking had left its mark. “Get over here and warm up around the fire. You gotta be cold as a well digger’s ass.”

Dan didn’t have to be told twice. While he wasn’t shivering anymore, he wasn’t exactly warm. He felt chilled to his core. He strode toward the stove and held his hands out to the soothing heat. “Thanks for the hospitality, Sal. A night out of the cold and damp is really appreciated.”

“No, what’s appreciated is you saving my dog here. She’s my best friend and, like me, she’s getting a little old to be out there showing her ass. She can’t see all that great and got too close to the edge, which has never happened before. I think we both learned something today. No more playing on the dock without a leash.”

“Good plan.” Dan nodded. “We all have a tendency to think we’re younger and more agile than we actually are.”

Holly cut her eyes toward Dan. “That’s the truth.”

The rest of them came forward to join Dan around the woodstove. It was a simple thing, yet one they’d never take for granted again. The hardships of the last year had given them all a greater appreciation of basic pleasures, like being warm, dry, and fed.

“Like I said, I had a Maltese that looked just like that,” said Dan. “When I saw her fall in, I reacted like it was my own dog.”

Sal looked down and affectionately stroked the dog’s head with his fingertips. “Well, you don’t know much I appreciate it. I’m not sure what I’d do without her.” The dog closed its eyes and Sal looked up at Dan. “So where are you guys headed?”

“Tennessee. Nashville for Jinks over there.”

Jinks stuck out a hand and shook with Sal. “That’s me.”

Dan glanced at Holly. “Holly and I are headed to East Tennessee.”

Holly followed Jinks’ lead and introduced herself to Sal.

Dan gestured at Krin. “Last, we have Krin over there who might stay with us for a bit before joining her family further east.”

Krin waved awkwardly, then shook Sal’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Sal.”

Sal leaned back in the chair and craned his neck to look for Reggie. “Why don’t you get some bowls and cut up some of that bread you made yesterday? I’m sure these folks are starving.”

Dan sniffed the air. “It sure smells good.”

Sal grinned. “It is good. Tortellini soup with just a hint of heat to it. I’ve always liked my food spicy.”

“Mom did most of the cooking when I was a kid,” Reggie said.

Sal crossed himself. “Rest her soul.”

“But it was always a treat when Dad cooked. He knows his way around a kitchen.”

“I worked a lot,” Sal admitted. “I always wanted family time to be special.”

“Were you a chef?” Krin asked.

Dan and Holly both cut her a sympathetic look, wanting to explain to her that a fondness for cooking didn’t mean someone was a chef. It was always as if she was a half-step behind every conversation.

Sal smirked and spread his hands, his heavy rings catching the light. “I wasn’t a chef, but I was a partner in a few restaurants over the years. Among other things.”

Reggie cleared his throat. “I told them that you were an investor and entrepreneur for most of your career.”

Sal chuckled. “My son there, he glosses over things. He was always embarrassed by the family business, even though it kept food on the table.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed.” Reggie sighed. This was clearly a point of contention between the two. “I just feel you should be more low-key about it, like you used to be. The last couple of years you don’t seem to give a shit who knows your business.”

“That’s right! I don’t give a shit!” Sal said, exasperated. “I’m an old man on an old boat with an old dog. I’m retired. What are they going to do? Lock me up?”

Reggie headed off to the kitchen to get those bowls Sal had asked for. “They might!”

Sal waved him off. “And they might kiss my ass too.”

Dan looked around with admiration. “You have a nice house and a nice boat, Sal. Whatever line of work you were in, you obviously did it well.”

Dan caught Holly’s disapproving look, the slight tilt of her head and narrowing of her eyes silently issuing the warning that he should tread carefully. She was picking up what Sal was laying down and assumed his employment history was better left undiscussed.

Dan shrugged at Holly, utterly lacking in discretion. “What? I’m just making conversation with the man.”

“You’re being nosy,” Holly warned.

Sal took no offense. He spread his hands in a loose, dismissive gesture. “What can I say? I had my hands in a lot of bowls. I was a working man—blue collar through and through. I invested in some businesses and owned others. I had a few pawn shops and a deli with the best corned beef in the Midwest. I opened a check-cashing joint when those took off. I had a small trucking company and a few warehouses along the river.”

Dan nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. I’ve always had a lot of respect for self-made men, people who could go out there and succeed in any industry they set their mind to. I wish I’d done something like that.”

Sal winked at Dan. “Some say I was a self-made man. Others just said I was a made man.”

The words hung in the air, their meaning settling over the group like an unexpected chill. Dan suddenly understood why Holly had been trying to shut him up. The answer had been staring him in the face the whole time. Sal wasn’t just some old guy with a few businesses. He was something entirely different.

“There you go again, Dad!” Reggie scolded. “Telling things that shouldn’t be told.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I did, son. I worked and provided for my family. I made a good living.”

Jinks chose that moment to break the tension in an utterly inappropriate fashion, humming the introduction from the famous theme to the movie The Godfather. Dan, Krin, and Holly all turned toward Jinks in horror, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and barely contained panic.

To their relief and collective surprise, Sal let out a bark of laughter, his face lighting up with genuine amusement for the first time. “Oh, now there’s a funny guy,” he said, his eyes glinting with something between approval and curiosity. “Not many of those left in the world these days. All that politically correct bullshit has them scared.”

Always the de-escalator, Holly jumped in. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sal waved her off, chuckling under his breath. “Forget about it. I love my son but he’s too serious. Having a funny guy around for a change will be nice. Fluffy probably knows more jokes than Reggie does.”

Jinks took the comment in stride, leaning into it with his usual easy charm. “I’ve been known to sing and play guitar.”

11

“Reggie,” said Sal, “please show our guests to their room so they can change clothes if they want to.”

Reggie gestured for them to follow, leading them across the long open parlor, then down a short, paneled hallway toward the stern of the boat. The floors creaked underfoot, the sound both comforting and endearing. Along a row of antique wooden doors, Reggie opened one on the right and stepped aside, motioning for them to enter.

“Sorry to jam you all into one room, but we’ve only got the one spare. I’m sure it beats sleeping in that dinghy or camping on the shore. You’ll be warm and dry.”

Holly, ever the cautious one, was the first to peer inside. She scanned the room as if expecting a trap, but all she found was a simple, practical space. There were two sets of bunk beds made up with comforters featuring cartoon characters. A small dresser was pushed against one wall. Overtop it, a narrow window looked out onto the river and the woods beyond. It was indeed a bit cramped, but after weeks of rough nights and cold ground, these were five-star accommodations.

“My sister’s kids stayed with us on the boat sometimes,” Reggie explained. “It was kind of a family thing back when times were normal. When the country went all to hell, Dad decided the boat was more comfortable than the big house. It was easy to heat and we’ve got some simple propane appliances.”

Krin stood in the hallway, hesitant to enter the tiny room. “Is this area safe?”

Reggie leaned against the wall. “There is some violence in this part of town but it’s less organized than in the city itself. There, you have gangs of marauders running around, looting and killing people. Down here, you’ve got some wealthy folks with big houses, but you’ve also got the hillbillies and river rats whose families were here before the rich people started moving in. They keep the crime in check because they’re not afraid to shoot people who come down here to steal. My dad’s security staff aren’t afraid to shoot either. Word gets out and people with bad intentions wisely choose softer targets.”

Holly said, “Sounds like you all have things under control.”

Reggie folded his arms over his chest. “We get by.”

“Do you have a working sink or shower?” Dan asked, more concerned with the state of his hygiene than with the security situation outside.

“Oh yeah.” Reggie straightened. “It’s down the hall on the right. We catch rainwater, which feeds the showers and toilets. There’s not a lot of pressure, but it’s enough to rinse off the road dust. There’s even a wood-fired water heater, so the water’s not frigid.”

“Is there time to take a shower before dinner?” Dan asked eagerly.

“Of course. Dinner is whenever we ladle out the soup. Take your time and come out when you’re ready.” Reggie excused himself to return to the parlor.

Holly wasted no time digging through her pack to retrieve her cleanest clothes. “Dibs on the first shower.”

Dan threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Go ahead. It’s not like I was the one who asked about it or anything.”

Holly winked, slipped out of the room, and ducked into the narrow bathroom down the hall. She didn’t want to use all the hot water, so she forced herself to keep it short. Holly emerged a few minutes later freshly scrubbed, her damp hair hanging to the shoulders of her flannel shirt. She thought about stretching out on the bed to rest while the others showered, but the itch to gather more information won out. While Dan was always firmly rooted in the present, Holly liked to have a sense of what lay ahead. She was a planner, while Dan preferred to live in the moment, or sometimes even the past. Reggie and Sal were the best source of intelligence she had available to her at the moment, so she wanted to take full advantage of their knowledge.

Holly walked back to the parlor with its multiple crackling stoves radiating soothing heat, her socks slippery on the hardwood floors. Though she had changed into her cleanest dirty clothes, they still smelled of sweat and wood smoke. She didn’t know if she’d ever get that smell off her. How many hot, perfumed baths would it take when she had such a thing available to her? She worried about those unpleasant smells soaking into her skin and becoming a permanent part of her. Was that what it was like for people of previous centuries?

In the parlor, she found Sal playing solitaire on a TV tray, the cards spread out in meticulous rows, Fluffy sleeping on his lap.

“May I sit?” she asked, nodding toward an empty wing-backed chair.

Sal gestured toward the chair with a polite, sweeping motion. “Be my guest.” His voice was rough though not unkind. He gestured at the cards in front of him. “My grandmother taught me this freaking game when I was a kid. She could sit and play it for hours at a time. I never understood that when I was young, but now I get it. It helps pass the time. It doesn’t take too much thought, just enough that you don’t sit here thinking about being lonely or miserable. Even playing it reconnects me to my grandmother. It makes me miss her too. I’d love to go back in time and give that lady one more hug. Just tell her I love her, you know? You ever feel like that?”

Holly wasn’t as prone to deep introspection as Dan was. Her brain and heart just didn’t work that way. She wasn’t sentimental and didn’t view the past through rose-colored glasses. However, she did understand what Sal was saying. “Yeah, there’s something special about those grandmothers. I never got to spend as much time with mine as I wanted. We didn’t live close. Those times I was with my grandparents were special, though.”

“I was blessed with seeing mine nearly every day until she passed, rest her soul.”

Holly lowered herself into the chair, studying Sal. Earlier, he’d had a bit of a spark to him, a sense of pride as he basically bragged that he’d made his living through organized crime. Now his eyes were softer as he recalled his grandmother. “Are you lonely and miserable? Is that why you play?”

Sal looked up from his cards, his gaze steady and unblinking. He genuinely considered the question before replying. “No, not really. Just old and a little grumpy sometimes. Getting old is not for the weak.” He chuckled, the sound dry and brittle like leaves crunching underfoot.

“Dan says that all the time.” Holly crossed her legs and laid her head back. The comfortable chair and the heat from the stove relaxed her. She could easily close her eyes and drift off to sleep right there in that chair. “I think this apocalypse has made all of us grumpy. Especially those of us who were creatures of habit. I enjoyed our old life and routines. I miss that.”

Sal scanned the layout in front of him, then placed a card. “I don’t know if I was a creature of habit as much as I was always someone on the lookout for the next opportunity. I liked the hustle of business. There was always a problem to solve or a deal to make. That kind of stimulation keeps me fresh and energized.”

Holly tilted her head to look in Sal’s direction. “There are plenty of people finding opportunities out there right now. Unfortunately, most of those people we’ve encountered were more interested in taking advantage of people than helping them.”

“How so?”

“People dealing in false hope. Offering to help people hop the trains, then killing and robbing them instead. Highwaymen preying on travelers. People establishing roadblocks and charging a toll to those who need to get by. That’s just part of what we’ve seen.”

“Bastards. There are plenty of opportunities without making people hurt worse than they’re already hurting. I always preferred scenarios that were a win for both parties. There’s inherently less risk when you’re not leaving behind a string of pissed off people wanting to get even with you.”

“Really?” Holly cocked an eyebrow at Sal. “Even in your… profession? Not to be rude, but that wasn’t the case with other people I knew who were…in a similar line of work.”

Sal chuckled again. “Excuse my language, but I could be a prick when I was younger. I’ve mellowed with age. If I learned anything it was that ‘mellow’ me made more money than ‘asshole’ me. People prefer to work with someone they like. Who knew?”

“So what opportunities exist out there for someone who’s mellowed with age? If I’m being too nosy, just tell me to mind my own business. I’m curious more than anything else.”

“It’s funny. This isn’t a conversation I’d have had with a stranger a year ago. Things being what they are now, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Holly agreed. “We’re just two people trying to survive by our wits and whatever means we have available to us.”

Sal drew another card, studying it for a moment before placing it with a sharp snap against the table. “With that in mind, it’s important to remember that this blackout phenomena is mostly limited to the U.S. Other countries are going on about their business. Some are rendering aid, just as the United States would do if it was their country in trouble. Other countries are taking advantage of us not policing the world to do those things the U.S. would frown on. Trade embargoes are being ignored, boundaries are being broken, and new alliances are being formed. The world goes on.”

“How do you know all this?”

Sal looked Holly in the eye. “Because I regularly communicate with people outside of the U.S. You remember me mentioning that I owned a few warehouses along the docks? One of my business interests was that I was an importer of certain types of goods. I had connections in the smuggling game before the lights went out. Fortunately for me, I had a friendly relationship with some of those connections. So after this disaster hit us, those connections sought me out to make sure I was okay. Once those connections were reestablished, they blossomed into a few new enterprises.”

“What kinds of enterprises?”

“It’s my turn with the questions.” Sal’s words were direct, but his eyes were playful. “You guys mentioned you were trying to get to Tennessee?”

Holly had gotten carried away with her questions. Sal was an easy guy to talk to and he had a natural charm that disarmed her, something that had probably been an asset in his old life. Maybe he was ready to turn the tables and see what information he could get out of her. She had no reason to lie and no reason to obfuscate the details of their journey.

“I was living in Boise and my friend Dan is from Tennessee. He was out visiting Boise when this happened and he got stuck there. Now he’s trying to get home. He’s got two adult kids living out on their own, and he’s obviously concerned about them. The younger girl in our group, Krin, has family somewhere in the East, and there was nothing left for her out West, so she’s basically along for the ride. The other guy, the one with the guitar, is new. We only met him a few days ago and he says he’s from Nashville.”

Sal hummed, skeptical, leaning back in his chair with a theatrical air. It was both the sound and the look a parent might give when they weren’t buying their kid’s story. “I can say I’m the pope, but that don’t make me the freaking pope.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sal cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, sizing Holly up. “I’m just saying while he might be a funny guy, that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy. There’s something about him…something I recognize from a life spent among some really bad motherf…men.”

A thread of unease pulled taut within Holly. It wasn’t that Sal’s words were surprising to her. It was more that they confirmed some underlying suspicion she already had. Whatever she felt about Jinks, Sal apparently felt it too.

“You’ve known him all of ten minutes, Sal.”

Sal pointed a card at her, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, but I’m alive because I’m a good judge of people and situations. In my line of work, sometimes you had to make a snap decision about whether someone was a standup guy or a rat. All I’m saying is that I’m still here when a lot of other guys are dead or in the can.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “Besides, a wolf knows that the best way to get close to the sheep is to pretend he’s a sheep too.”

Holly lowered her voice, leaning in closer so her words wouldn’t be overheard on the quiet boat. “You’re saying that you think Jinks is a wolf?”

Sal gave an exaggerated nod. “I’ve met a thousand guys like him and they can’t hide it. It’s in their eyes. Hungry…predatory…always sizing up the next opportunity, always watching for an angle. It’s a game to them and we’re all just pieces on the board. While it’s not necessarily bad, it can be dangerous if you don’t understand what you’re dealing with. Once you know, you can take the proper precautions.” He paused, holding Holly’s gaze. “What did you used to do back in the world?”

Holly wondered how much to reveal, then realized there was no point in hiding it. “I was a cop.” Even saying it felt strange in the world they lived in now, like it was a trade made irrelevant by the changing of time.

Sal laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “Okay, so back in the old life, you and I played on opposite teams. I thought it was something like that. I picked up a strong vibe that told me you were a cop or a fed or something.”

Holly wagged a finger at him. “You’re good. I started as a street cop and worked my way up to detective.”

“Okay, so as a cop, did you ever get a gut feeling about a certain thing? Could you just look at somebody and know they were wrong? That there was something they were hiding?”

Holly nodded, memories surfacing unbidden—faces across interrogation tables, the subtle shift in a suspect’s expression when they were lying. Other times there was no “tell” at all, merely that gnawing suspicion that they weren’t telling the whole story. “Yeah, that’s true. There were times I could look at a roomful of guys and know who the perp was. Though I couldn’t always prove it, my gut usually told me I was right.”

Sal’s expression softened, acknowledging some unspoken bond between them, a mutual understanding that they’d both seen the dark side of human nature. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. This is just you and me talking. Cop to robber, so to speak. I’m just throwing my take on your friend out there as a charitable contribution. Make of it what you will.” He flicked another card down with a sharp snap, his eyes fixed on hers, watching for a reaction.

Holly was slow to trust people and there was something about Jinks that rubbed her the wrong way. A charm that could turn sharp in an instant, such as when he was probing into Dan’s issues with an almost sadistic pleasure, all the while trying to pretend like it was just innocent conversation. Although she didn’t know if Jinks was truly a wolf as Sal suggested, Sal’s words confirmed that she should continue to trust her gut on the matter and regard Jinks with a degree of suspicion.

“I appreciate you saying that, Sal. On a different topic, since you’ve been communicating with people from other areas, do you have any advice for the next leg of our journey? Our plan is to follow the river until it joins up with the Mississippi, then head south. I assume we’ll find someplace to get off the river and head across Tennessee on foot.”

Sal flicked a hand in Holly’s direction as if he was swatting at a fly. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not? The river is faster than walking with less wear and tear on our bodies. It goes right where we need to go, and it should be safer once these floodwaters settle down.”

Sal didn’t even look up “The river may be fast but it’s not safer than walking. Staying on the water is a sucker’s game. You’ll eventually get picked off, like a grasshopper floating into the mouth of a big fat bass. There are teams working farther downriver and we’ve been calling them pirates. They have a spotter on one bridge who tries to see what you have in your boat. If it’s anything worth taking, he sends a messenger on a bike down to the next bridge where they’ve got a team of guys waiting. They pick you off, board your boat, and steal your shit. Bada bing bada boom.”

Holly’s frown deepened as she pictured the scenario. “We got a taste of that here in Kansas City. We weren’t robbed but there were people throwing bricks off the bridge.”

Sal’s laugh was short and humorless. “Amateurs. Downriver, they’re organized. They’ve got their act together and you won’t see them until it’s too late. And you damn sure won’t get past them. From what I hear, no one gets past them.”

Holly heaved a long sigh. Even though she’d been hesitant about the river initially, she’d seen the benefit of traveling in this manner, and giving it up seemed like a failure. “Do you have any suggestions? We thought this was the key to covering ground quickly, but we don’t want to die doing it.”

Sal met her gaze, his expression softening slightly. “I might know a guy.”

Holly raised an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with caution. “What kind of guy?”

Sal winked. “The kind who knows how to get people where they need to go. You want a chance at Tennessee? He might be your best shot.”

12

Once Dan, Jinks, and Krin were showered and dressed, they joined Holly, Sal, and Reggie in the parlor. Though night was fully upon them outside the large windows, the oil sconces cast a warm glow over the polished wood interior of the boat. Between the lights and the woodstove, the cozy atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the chilly evening beyond those walls. Reggie was busy in the galley, working over a pot on the stove, the savory aroma of the soup filling the room.

Because the parlor was so large, Sal didn’t have the kind of space constraints a smaller boat might have. The room held an oversized dining table that probably could have seated sixteen people comfortably. Sal took a seat at the head of the table with the ease of someone accustomed to holding court over groups of people. Multiple candles burned on the table and Sal’s gold jewelry caught the light. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glossy wood. He had the air of a man who enjoyed people and relished the rare opportunity to host a gathering, even in the midst of the current circumstances.

“So,” Sal rubbed his hands together, “I’m sure you all have had quite the journey. Tell me what you’ve seen in your travels.”

“Let Dan start,” Holly said. “He’s the more entertaining of the group.”

Jinks looked offended. “He doesn’t even sing or play guitar.”

“You want me to recount my adventures in song?” Dan asked. “I can do that if it makes you feel better.”

“No!” Krin and Holly said in chorus.

Even though no one wanted to hear Dan’s story in song, that didn’t stop him from telling it in animated fashion. He launched into his tale, beginning with his departure from Tennessee and weaving through the trials he had faced since then, and described how this motley crew had come to be. Despite the serious and sometimes tragic experiences they’d had on the road, Dan’s stories were often funny, whether he intended them to be or not. The combination of his frequent references to The Way of Dan and his self-deprecating sense of humor kept the stories as light as they could be, given the circumstances.

“It’s all been like some violent documentary with amusing cartoon interludes,” Dan summed up.

Sal appeared genuinely enthralled. He patted Dan on the back when he recounted the loss of his friend Carl, then nodded his approval while Dan recounted the violent revenge he took on the people responsible. Sal laughed until tears rolled down his face at their adventures in Idaho, until they got to the death of Ranger Missy. He crossed himself then, repeating the gesture a few minutes later when Dan told him about Kyle Cross having killed his ex-wives and kept their heads in jars. The story of the creepy Ivy and their experiences with her brought out a string of incredulous profanity.

When Dan paused for breath, Sal shook his head in disbelief. He pointed at Dan. “This freaking guy! Now that’s how you tell a story. Who’s next? You’re going to have a tough time topping that one.”

Krin hesitated, glancing at Dan and Holly before speaking, as if seeking their permission to share her story. She was much more subdued than Dan as she summarized the last year of her life, her words tinged with melancholy. She spoke of the early days of the collapse, the initial scramble to understand what was going on, then finally the acceptance that she and her boyfriend Bird could weather this event in their small mountain town. She talked about Bird’s death in only the briefest of terms. It was all she could manage to force out. Still, her voice cracked before she fell silent, looking down at her hands clasped tightly on her lap.

Holly scooted back from the table to lean around and give Krin a tight hug.

Sal offered her a supportive nod. “I’m sorry you had such a rough go of it, honey. It’s awful that you had that experience.”

Holly delivered her account next, speaking with the detached precision of a cop presenting a report to someone up the chain of command. She outlined her version of their journey like she was presenting evidence—each event they’d experienced a bullet point, devoid of embellishment or emotion. The violence and the hardship they’d gone through were simply facts to her, information to be laid out in neat, logical order.

When she was finished, Sal nodded and offered Holly a friendly smile.

Dan sat there flabbergasted. His telling had taken nearly thirty minutes and involved several episodes of standing to act out particular details. Holly was done in only a few minutes.

“That’s all you’ve got? It was dry as toast. We’ve spent a lot of months together. All the crazy times we’ve had over the past year and you reduce it to a five-minute summary?”

Holly shrugged, her expression impassive. “I kept to the facts. They speak for themselves.”

Dan shook his head with disappointment. “I hope you’re not one of those cops who read stories to children at the local library. If you read Dr. Seuss with that same level of enthusiasm you just demonstrated it’s going to turn into a real snooze fest.”

Sal chuckled at their banter, then turned his focus to Jinks. “You there, musician and funny guy, what’s your name again?”

“Jinks.”

Sal scratched the back of his neck, then rested his elbows back on the table, and steepled his fingers. “You’re the only one we haven’t heard from. What’s your story?”

Jinks drummed his fingers lightly on the edge of the table. For a moment, it seemed like he might brush the question off, but then he began to speak. He painted a picture of what his life was like before the world fell apart—months spent on the road playing in bars and honky-tonks, writing songs that never quite made it to the charts, and drifting from one gig to the next.

His voice softened dramatically when he spoke of Alicia, the woman he’d met along the way. His story ended with Alicia’s death by the train tracks and there his words faltered. He could have gone on to talk about the last few days on the road with his new group of friends, but he didn’t. It seemed a calculated move, designed to leave the listener with a resonating sadness, as if his story was a song improvised and delivered to an audience for the first time.

Sal listened in silence, his eyes never leaving Jinks. He didn’t press him for more, but there was a calculating look in his gaze. To Holly, it looked as if Sal was weighing the veracity of the story Jinks had just delivered. As if he was determining the level of truthfulness in the man he’d referred to as a wolf in his earlier conversation with Holly.

When they finished the dinner of soup and homemade bread, Dan and his people insisted on clearing the table and washing the dishes. At least they insisted after Holly volunteered them. It was a small gesture of appreciation for the hospitality they’d received so no one protested. While they washed and dried dishes, Reggie carried in some wood and stoked the fire. Sal returned to his chair by the warm wood stove and placed his dog on his lap. When the dishes were done, Dan’s crew surrounded the woodstove again, drawn to the satisfying heat.

“How about a drink?” Sal asked. “Anyone want one besides me?”

All hands went up.

Sal pointed toward the long bar that stretched along one exterior wall. “Reggie, how about you grab that bottle of Singleton.”

Reggie walked behind the bar and removed the bottle of scotch his father had requested. He laid out a half-dozen glasses, poured a measure of the rich, smoky liquid into each, then distributed the cocktails.

Sal lifted his in a toast. “To entering the valley of death and coming out the other side.”

They all toasted in a complicated clinking of glasses, then drank. The scotch burned warmly down Dan’s throat. It was the best liquor he’d had since they left the bunker in Idaho. Kyle had kept that place well-stocked with beer and liquor, assuming the apocalypse would probably involve a considerable amount of binge drinking. That had been one of Kyle Cross’ more lucid thoughts.

Dan glanced at Holly, catching her eye over the rim of his glass and winking at her. He was glad she felt relaxed enough to enjoy a drink and he hoped she didn’t mind him having one. Just because he’d tossed his weed in the river didn’t mean he was going to quit drinking. According to The Way of Dan, a man needed a few solid vices to build character.

Jinks swirled his glass thoughtfully, savoring the taste. “This is damn good scotch.” There was genuine appreciation in his voice. “Take that from a man who devoted much of his adult life to cheap booze.”

Sal tipped his glass in Jinks’ direction, acknowledging the compliment. “Are you a scotch man?”

Jinks’ expression turned wry. “No, but I’m a drinking man and I approach it with an equal opportunity attitude. I’ve tried everything from the top shelf to the dusty bottles they keep on the floor. I drank box wine, jar liquor, and everything in between.”

Sal’s laugh was so loud it startled Fluffy. “You remind me of a guy I used to know—always a story, always an angle—and most of those stories involving booze and bad decisions.”

Jinks offered a half-smile. “Friend of yours?”

Sal shrugged but didn’t take his eyes off Jinks. “Yeah, until I had to pop him.”

Dan burst into laughter, assuming it was a joke, however, the gaze Sal continued to hold with Jinks was dead serious.

After a long moment, Sal winked at Jinks and pointed a finger at him. “Just messing with you, kid.”

Dan wasn’t so easily convinced it had all been a joke, nor did Jinks appear to. Neither could force out a laugh, or even a smile, to ease the tension.

Holly cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Sal, earlier you mentioned that traveling the river was a bad plan and that you might have another suggestion. Maybe it would be a good time to discuss that since everyone’s here now.”

Despite the quality of the Singleton, Sal downed the remainder of his glass like it was a shot of tequila, smacking his lips and setting it down on his end table with a decisive clink.

“Sure, let’s do it.” Sal looked around the room. “Earlier, Holly was telling me about your plan to continue downriver. Bad idea. While that might seem like the obvious solution with no planes, trains, or automobiles, it’s obvious that all the scumbags and lowlifes are taking advantage of it.”

Dan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The lighter mood of earlier was gone. He could feel the weight of the room shift as the reality of their situation settled in. “How so?”

Sal sighed, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I might be showing my age here, but there used to be this carnival game designed for the younger kids. A bunch of rubber duckies would float by in this little trough and a kid picked one. Depending on what number was written on the bottom of the duckie, he won some kind of prize. It was as simple as that. No real skill or effort involved.”

“And that’s what these bad actors are doing?” Holly asked. “Plucking travelers out of the water like plastic ducks?”

“Yeah, but these ducks don’t get put back in the water,” Sal said. “They get squashed. The point of the story is don’t be a duckie.”

“So what exactly are they doing?” Dan asked. “How are they attacking people? Is it something we can prepare for and fight off?”

Sal waved a hand in front of himself. “No way. There are traps everywhere. Not just dumbasses on bridges throwing rocks like you ran into earlier. I’m talking about more sophisticated groups. They’ve got spotters watching from high points with telescopes. These spotters relay what they see to bicycle messengers who carry it to the main attack element in a matter of minutes. They have snipers hidden along the riverbank who will pull your plug before you even know what’s happening to you. Once the sniper does his thing, a chase team launches a canoe and intercepts your boat. They roll the bodies into the water, beach your boat, and plunder the contents. It’s modern-day piracy, and they’ve got it down to a science.”

“Any chance we can bypass the bad spots then get back on the river once we’re past the city?” Jinks asked.

Sal poured another round of the Singleton. “It would have been possible a while back, but not anymore. Word has spread and river attacks have become the hot new thing. They’re all up and down the river.”

“You sure have a lot of information for a guy without power,” Jinks remarked.

Sal spread his hands on the table. “It’s what I do. I know people and I make things happen.”

“So it’s just as bad on the Mississippi River?” Dan asked.

“Definitely. There’s been increased boat traffic on the Mississippi with people trying to reach warmer climates. So even if you manage to avoid the St. Louis pirates, you’re going to have a hell of a time dodging all the pirates. My advice would be to get off the river now, while you still can.”

Dan exchanged a glance with Holly and saw the calculation in her expression. The same thoughts were running through his own mind. The river had seemed like a good option once they left the trains, although now it was more like a dangerous gamble that could cost them everything. They were going to have to come up with another plan, and whatever it was would be horribly slow after the progress they’d made on the train and in the boat.

“I’m not married to the river enough that I want to die on it,” Dan said.

“Me neither,” Holly said. “Sal did mention that he might have an idea.”

“We’re always open to ideas,” Dan said. “I’m even fine if they’re a little kooky.”

“Of course you are.” Holly smirked. “The rest of us are sane, though.”

Sal took a patient sip of his drink, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I might know a guy.”

Dan grinned at their new friend. “I love it when people say that. You never know where the hell it’s going to lead. I know a lot of guys too and half of them are batshit crazy.”

Krin, who had been silent for most of the conversation, suddenly spoke up, her voice tiny but determined. “I’m tired of adventure,” she chimed in. “I just want to get somewhere safe where I don’t have to worry about dying every day.”

Sal smiled sympathetically. “You’re not safe yet, little girl. Hopefully you will be soon.”

Jinks’s curiosity was piqued. “So who is this guy you know and what does he do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“If I didn’t want to talk about him, I wouldn’t have brought him up,” Sal replied.

Like Dan, Sal enjoyed drawing his stories out to build the tension. While Dan enjoyed telling stories in that fashion, he wasn’t a fan of being on the receiving end of them. He felt like he was being teased with the information. He knew how this worked though. He’d grown up around storytellers like this, which was how he’d learned the art. Sal wouldn’t be rushed. He’d reveal the information at his own pace and there was no use getting in a hurry about it.

“Does this friend of yours build some kind of armored boats?” Dan pressed. “He got some kind of secret weapon we can use?”

“Armored boats? Now there’s an idea.” Sal cleared his throat and patted his shirt pocket looking for a cigar, only to find that his shirt didn’t have any pockets. “No, it’s not armored boats, it’s something even more interesting. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but if you’re interested, I can take you to see him tomorrow. He might be your safest option for going east.”

Dan studied Sal’s face, searching for any sign of deception. “Not to be rude, but what’s this going to cost us? It won’t do us any good to see some cool idea your friend has come up with if it’s out of our price range.”

Sal waved a hand at Dan as if dismissing the idea. “It won’t cost you anything. I can’t put a price on what you did for me today. You saved one of the things most precious to me in the whole world.” He offered Reggie an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, son.”

Reggie threw his hands up in a “yeah, what else is new” gesture. This information came as no surprise to him.

Dan looked around at his friends, processing what Sal had told him. “I’d love to take a day off the road and see what this friend of yours has going. Do you mind if I talk it over with my people before we make a decision? They always accuse me of speaking for everyone so I’m trying to better myself.”

“Good for you trying to get all better and shit!” Sal said. “But no, I don’t care. It’s no skin off my big fat ass whichever way you go. You people talk about it and decide what you want to do. If you want the introduction, I can make that happen tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’m going to step out onto the veranda and enjoy a cigar in the night air.”

13

The combination of food, drink, and a warm fire had taken its toll and Dan’s people were ready to turn in for the night. A light drizzle had begun to fall, pattering against the windows and mingling with the sound of the water lapping against the hull. They were all appreciative that they’d found a cozy bubble of comfort in the cold and violent world. They retreated to their tiny stateroom, grateful for a night not spent sleeping on the ground in dirty sleeping bags that smelled of smoke and mildew. The bunk bed mattresses were soft even if they were a mite short for adults.

“Now this is living,” Jinks murmured from a top bunk, his voice drifting lazily. “A couple of nights like this could have me rethinking my entire plan. I might just get me a houseboat and take to living on the river. This is a whole way of life I’d never considered before.”

Dan was on the bunk below Holly, eyes closed and weary to the bone. “Not me. I just want to get back to Tennessee as soon as possible and in one piece. If I make it, I ain’t ever stepping foot outside the Volunteer State again. To hell with Idaho, to hell with the beach, to hell with vacations in Florida. It’s just me…and Tennessee.” He sang that last part in a way that cracked everyone up.

“What do you all think about what Sal was telling us about the dangers of staying on the river?” Holly asked.

Jinks rolled his head to the side. His skepticism was evident in his voice. “If these folks are even telling the truth. They could be lying. We don’t know anything about them.”

“I know they have fine liquor and appreciate a good story,” Dan said. “That’s about all I have to know to consider a man a friend.”

Holly shifted in her bed, the springs creaking softly beneath her weight. “I don’t know. When someone lies, there’s usually a motive. What would be the motive here? We don’t really have anything worth stealing. We don’t have a single thing that Sal needs. I can’t imagine there’s any benefit to getting us off the river. If he was in cahoots with the pirates, why would he warn us to get off the river? I just don’t see a motive for lying.”

Jinks’s voice was playful, but there was nothing playful about his words. “Sometimes motives aren’t obvious until it’s too late. Next thing you know you’re lying there bleeding out on the ground, realizing the joke was on you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Krin’s voice was wavering, the pitch rising. “I just want to get home. I’m tired of constantly worrying that something bad is going to happen to me. Haven’t we been through enough bad shit already?”

“Easy now,” Jinks said, his voice softer than usual. He tried to inject some reassurance into his words. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You have old Jinks looking after you now.”

Something about his words irritated Holly. She turned slightly, looking toward the bunk where Jinks was stretched out, the shadows obscuring his expression. “You have some secret weapon we don’t know about?”

Her tone was sharp. Jinks seemed to be implying that Krin had been unsafe because she and Dan weren’t capable of protecting Krin. Maybe she was being sensitive or maybe the alcohol had loosened her tongue, but it rubbed Holly the wrong way. They’d done their best to help each other and for the most part they’d done a damn good job of it. Yes, they’d lost Bird and Ranger Missy, but that wasn’t their fault. These were dangerous and unpredictable times.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a secret weapon,” Jinks replied, pausing for effect, and Holly heard the smirk in voice though she couldn’t see his face. “I know some of the most irritating country songs of all time and I ain’t afraid to use them. Few things are as dangerous as a musical instrument in the hands of an unscrupulous man.”

Dan’s unexpected burst of laughter startled Holly. It was rough and genuine, a sound that cut through the heavy mood like a sharp knife. “God, that reminds me of Carl. He used to play ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ just to piss me off. Over and over again. Drove me crazy.” His laughter faded and he settled into his thoughts. Like Krin, he missed that time when the world was whole and the people he loved weren’t just names and sad memories.

Holly didn’t think she could fall off to sleep yet. Her mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts, a restless energy. She was still miffed by Jinks’ comment and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t let it go. She hopped out of bed, grabbed her backpack, and hauled it back up to the top bunk. She reached inside, feeling for the paperback she’d picked up on the road—a beat-up novel with a creased cover. It wasn’t her usual fare, a domestic suspense about a woman in a toxic marriage, but Holly had learned to take whatever distractions she could find.

The paperback wasn’t in its normal place, which was odd. Holly felt around a bit more and noticed that nothing was in its usual spot. She frowned and flipped open the lid of her pack. In the glow of her tiny flashlight, she could see that the contents of her pack were a jumbled mess. Holly’s frown deepened as she rummaged through the disarray. She was meticulous about how she organized her gear, every item carefully stowed so she could access the essentials quickly on the trail. She had to keep it that way because this pack was her lifeline, the only part of her day she had any control over.

She had gone through the pack when she took a shower earlier, pulling out underwear and toiletries, but she had not left it in this state. Holly’s instincts prickled, unease settling over her like a bad smell. She wondered if Dan might have gone through her things while she was talking to Sal, but she couldn’t imagine he’d have done that. Dan had no reason to go into her pack and he respected her privacy enough that he’d have asked if he needed something from it. When she found her paperback, she shut the pack in a huff, deciding she’d have to dump the whole thing out tomorrow and rearrange it in the daylight.

She rolled onto her side to lower the pack to the floor and froze. Jinks was lying in the top bunk opposite her, his face just visible in the faint glow of her flashlight. He wasn’t asleep; he was watching her, his eyes tracking her every move. For a moment, Holly was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. It was the first time since their initial meeting that he made her feel genuinely uncomfortable, and a cold knot twisted in her chest.

After she dropped her pack, she forced herself to look away from Jinks, rolling onto her back and trying to focus on her book. Her feeling of unease lingered, prickling the back of her neck. She couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Jinks’ eyes. The quiet way he watched her bought back Sal’s warning.

A wolf.

Holly’s mind kept drifting back to the condition of her pack and the unsettling intensity in Jinks’s eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jinks was still lying over there staring at her. She couldn’t make herself look. She didn’t want to see his eyes again, boring into her in that animalistic way. The rain tapped against the windows, and Holly found herself wishing for morning because she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to sleep at all that night.

14

They woke around first light the next morning, more out of habit than by design. It was a rhythm they had settled into over their time on the road, a byproduct of living among nature instead of outside of it. They were no different than the deer, rabbits, or the birds. Often, they’d be up and moving before the sun even had a chance to warm the earth, skipping breakfast until they’d put a few more miles behind them.

Although uncertain of where the day might take them, they packed their gear as soon as they were dressed. Dan noticed they all were dragging their feet, performing the packing ritual with more hesitation than usual. They were all reluctant to leave the cushy accommodations and Sal’s hospitality behind. The houseboat had been a rare comfort, and they weren’t eager to step back into the harsh reality that awaited them beyond the estate.

Repacking her belongings with military precision, Holly thought about the disarray she had found inside her pack the night before. The thought gnawed at her, yet she kept it tucked away for now. Normally she was blunt enough that she’d just come out and ask the group if anyone had been inside her pack yesterday, but a little voice inside her told her to keep quiet about that for now. Something about Jinks’s stare last night lingered, irritating her like a splinter she couldn’t quite reach.

They left their packs inside their quarters and made their way to the enormous parlor. Sal was already up and had warm fires going in several of the stoves. He was kicked back in his recliner with a steaming mug in his hand, his slippered feet propped in the air. Fluffy was curled in his lap in a pink sweater, looking much better than she’d looked the day before. The rich aroma of coffee filled the room and the smell of it transported Dan back to better times. Back to life in the bunker before Bird died, when the four of them lived like roommates in their twenties without a care in the world other than where they were partying that night.

Sal noticed the way their noses lifted slightly, like hounds catching a scent on the wind. He waved a hand toward the galley, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Knock yourself out. There’s a full pot on the stove and plenty more if we drink that.”

Dan cracked a smile. “Let me guess—you know a guy?”

Sal winked and raised an imaginary finger gun, pointing it at Dan. “Bingo, my friend. It’s good to know people.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Dan’s people crowded into the galley, pouring cups of steaming black coffee into a mismatched assortment of mugs. Dan’s said, “Coffee Makes Me Poop,” which made Krin giggle. Immediately, the warmth spread through their hands as they waited for it to cool enough to sip. They returned to the parlor where Dan made himself comfortable in a leather chair. Krin, Holly, and Jinks stood close to the wood stove, basking in its heat.

“Excuse the lack of a breakfast buffet,” Sal said, lifting his cup to his lips. “I’ve never been much of a breakfast guy myself. Never got into the habit. I made up for it with some good freaking lunches.”

Holly took a sip of her coffee and nodded. “We typically don’t eat breakfast. We get up, get on the road, and usually wait until our first break to eat. We have dinner at night and maybe a snack during the day if we feel the need. We try to keep things simple and make our food last since we can only carry so much.”

“Do you hunt and fish along the way?” Sal asked, petting Fluffy as he spoke.

Dan fielded the question. “We might throw out a handline if we’re near water and maybe leave one out for the night. We’ve snared small game, but it’s usually not worth it to shoot anything big. We can’t carry that much meat and don’t want to spend the time making jerky out of it.”

“What do you eat?”

“The bunker in Idaho was well-stocked with freeze-dried food and backpacking meals,” said Holly. “We carried a lot of that, but obviously we’re burning through it. We’ll run out well before we get to Tennessee. When we were taking the train, we made good time but we’re moving a lot slower now.”

“Sounds like you’re kind of racing against the clock,” Sal said.

“We’re racing against the food clock,” Dan said. “Once we burn through our food, we’ll be moving a lot slower because we’ll have to hunt, fish, forage, or barter to restock. Any time spent on those activities is time not spent getting closer to home.”

Sal glanced down at his watch. He shook it, as if that might convince it to start working again,

“You late for something?” Dan teased.

Sal laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “No, it hasn’t worked since the lights went out. Checking it is a hard habit to break. If the damn thing hadn’t cost me ten grand, I’d have chucked it into the river by now.”

Dan held up his bare wrist. “Chucked mine already.”

Jinks shot Sal a lopsided grin. “I guess you can just think of it as a very expensive bracelet.”

Sal’s laugh was louder this time. “Such an optimist. Your name should be Rosy instead of Jinks.”

Holly took a long sip of her coffee. “Where’s Reggie this morning?”

Sal pointed with his thumb, gesturing toward his large home on the shore. “Since we’re going to take a field trip today, Reggie is putting together some security for the road.”

“Guns?” Dan asked.

Sal smirked. “Yep. And guys with guns. Guys who worked for me back before the country took a crap. I let them bring their families and live on the property. I make sure they have food, weapons, and safety. They keep an eye on things and help out with security when we need it. It’s a good deal for everyone.”

“That’s handy,” Dan said.

“Definitely,” Sal said. “But I’m assuming you’re actually interested in meeting the guy I was telling you about yesterday. You haven’t told me your decision yet.”

Holly exchanged a glance with Dan. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I think most of us are interested.”

Holly cut her eyes toward Jinks, putting the ball in his court. He’d acted suspicious of Sal and Reggie last night, so she wanted to give him the option of backing out if he wasn’t interested in meeting Sal’s friend. He remained silent, though he met Holly’s eye with a reptilian detachment. It was impossible for Holly to read the intention behind that look. It gave her a chill, reminding her of the way he’d looked at her last night.

Dan nodded eagerly. “I’m down for meeting anyone who might make our trip easier.”

“Good!” Sal said. “Once Reggie is back, we’ll get our shit together and get out of here.”

Holly drained her coffee mug. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air. Please excuse me.”

Dan lingered with the others for a few moments, finishing the last of his coffee while Jinks amused Sal with a yarn about a couple of gigs he’d played in Kansas City over the years. Sal chimed in, offering Jinks a glimpse into the seedy underbelly of the bar scene, telling stories about who really owned the different clubs and what kinds of criminal enterprises were run out of them. While at another time those stories might have fascinated Dan, his thoughts were on Holly. He could sense that she had something on her mind. Something more pressing than just enjoying the river view on a crisp morning.

Dan stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll join Holly outside.”

Jinks was so caught up in his story that he barely glanced Dan’s way. Dan went to the galley, washed out his mug, then stepped out onto the deck. The air outside was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and river water. The high water from all the rain had receded some but moved by at an intimidating pace, peppered with logs and debris. Anchored in the inlet alongside his property, the worst of the current bypassed Sal’s boat without subjecting it to the angry floodwaters. Dan climbed a set of steps to join Holly on the upper deck. He found her standing at the railing with her arms crossed, staring out at the water.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

Holly barely spared him a glance, her jaw set, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She cut straight to the point. “When we got here yesterday, after I took a shower, I went back into the parlor to talk to Sal. Did you happen to go into my pack for anything?”

Dan blinked, taken aback by the question. Despite the familiarity and trust that had grown between them, the suggestion that he might have rooted through her things stung a bit. He frowned. “No, why would I do that? Have I ever got into your shit without asking?”

She sighed. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just trying to figure something out. You know how I am about keeping my pack organized.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Do I ever. They have a diagnosis and meds for it.”

Holly dismissed the jab. “I went to get my book out of my pack last night after you fell asleep. Everything in my pack had been shuffled around. You know I don’t leave it like that.”

“Maybe it just got jostled in all the chaos of rescuing my dumb ass after I jumped out of the boat? You guys were grabbing sleeping bags in a hurry.”

Holly shook her head. “No, the things in my pack weren’t just shifted a little. It was like my gear had been dumped out, then crammed back in. Whoever did it made no effort to hide that it had been done.”

Dan’s confusion deepened. “Maybe it was Krin? Maybe she needed... girl stuff or something?”

Holly shot him a look, one eyebrow jacked up in frustration. “Girl stuff? Really, Dan?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, just thinking out loud.”

“I’m not sure you’re thinking at all.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

Holly blew out a breath. “I don’t think it was Krin. Anytime she’s wanted to borrow something she’s asked. No, this is…different. I think it might’ve been Jinks.”

Dan tilted his head, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Why would Jinks be in your pack?”

Holly glanced back over her shoulder to make sure they were the only ones on the upper deck, as if Jinks might be lurking somewhere behind them. He wasn’t. “You know that Jinks was on the top bunk opposite mine, right? He could see me digging around with my flashlight, and I’m pretty sure he noticed that I realized my stuff was out of place. When I closed up my pack, I caught him staring at me. He didn’t smile or say anything, just gave me this look. It was weird. Dark. I’ve never seen him look like that before. It creeped me out. I’m not sure I slept a wink after that.”

Dan frowned. What Holly was saying didn’t match the image he had of Jinks, the laid-back musician who always had a story to tell. Still, she didn’t scare easily. She’d faced down murders and crazies all the time in her old job. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be in your pack?”

Holly took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I thought about that. I know this sounds crazy, but the only thing I can come up with is maybe he saw me take Alicia’s identification from her pack or heard me say something to you about it. Maybe he wants it back for some reason.”

Dan’s gaze sharpened, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Is it still in your pack?”

“My pack has this inner pocket that’s made for storing things like keys and wallets—things you want to keep safe but won’t need on the trail. When I stored her stuff, I put it in that pocket for exactly that reason. I won’t need it until the grid is back up and running. It’s still in there. If it was Jinks that got in my pack and if that’s what he was looking for, he didn’t find it.”

Dan rubbed his jaw, the stubble rasping against his fingers. “If those items meant something to him, why wouldn’t he just ask for them? Why not just tell you he had a sentimental attachment and wanted to keep them? Technically, he has more of a right to that stuff than you do, as long as he agrees to do the right thing and contact her family. Right?”

“Right. I’d be fine with that, but I’ve been thinking about this all night. The only reason I can come up with for him sneaking into my pack is that he doesn’t want to tell us what he wants or why he wants it.”

Dan laughed nervously. “You’re making him sound sinister. I don’t see him as that conniving. He seems like a straight shooter.”

“I’m a cop.” Holly shrugged. “I see the sinister side of everyone. People are capable of worse things than you can imagine. Kids kill other kids, parents kill their children, and soccer moms murder their husband’s mistresses in cold blood. People are deeper and darker than you’d ever believe. No one surprises me anymore, Dan. No one.”

Dan turned around and rested his back against the rail. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but it’s troubling. I kind of like the guy. Sometimes anyway. Not when he’s analyzing my issues out there in public like he did in the boat that first day, but when he’s telling stories. Then I feel like I’ve known him forever.”

“You haven’t known him forever.” Holly laughed bitterly. “You’ve known Carl forever and he reminds you of Carl. On top of that, Jinks is a slacker like you. Same taste in music, same laid-back attitude. There are any number of reasons you’d bond with him. He makes you feel normal instead of feeling like the degenerate outlaw you are.” She winked at him to acknowledge that she was partly teasing in that last comment. Partly.

Dan recoiled in mock offense. “Hey, I resemble that remark! You use the word ‘outlaw’ like it’s a bad thing. I’ve come to see that as a compliment in my golden years. It’s an acknowledgment of my independence and my refusal to conform to social norms.”

“These aren’t your golden years, Dan. More like your tarnished silver years.”

“I like that. Tarnished silver years.” Dan cracked up. “But back to Jinks, I know I’ve never been the best judge of people. I thought Kyle Cross and I were going to be buddies and look how that turned out.”

“Don’t forget Ivy,” Holly threw in. “You somehow found some redeeming quality in that psychopathic Neanderthal. I’m still not sure what that was about.”

“Her outfit was kind of hot,” Dan teased. “And I thought she’d be interesting to talk to as long as she could resist killing me. I’m sure she’s got an interesting story to tell.”

“Now you’re just being stupid.”

Their conversation was interrupted by voices carrying through the morning fog. They searched for the source, then heard footsteps on the dock. Reggie was leading a small group of men toward the boat. Dan raised a hand and waved.

“Ahoy there,” Reggie called back with a friendly wave.

The rest of the men in his group were all business: serious faces, heavily armed, and dressed in a mix of street clothes and well-worn tactical gear. Jeans, boots, and canvas work coats were accompanied by body armor, gun belts, and battle rifles. Their chest rigs bristled with spare magazines, knives, and other gear. All of them wore backpacks that sagged with the weight of their loadout.

“It looks like Sal’s security detail is no joke,” Dan muttered. “Those guys look ready to rumble.”

“Agreed,” Holly murmured, her eyes never leaving the men on the dock. “I was halfway expecting a bunch of mobbed-up leg breakers, but these look like military contractors.”

“It must be nice to have that level of security whenever you want to leave the house.”

“As long as that’s all they’re here to do. Being outgunned this seriously makes me nervous.”

“Remember it’s Jinks you’re distrustful of, not Sal. You’re only allowed to make me paranoid about one of our companions at a time.”

“I wish things were that easy.” Holly sighed. “Sometimes the world doesn’t give a shit about your rules or wants.”

“I think that’s most of the time. The last six months or so are proof of that.”

“Tell Dad we're ready when he is!” Reggie called from the dock. His companions lit up cigarettes, talking among themselves while they waited for their protectee to show up.

Dan gave Reggie a thumbs up to show he'd heard, then he and Holly climbed the stairs back down to the main deck. When they stepped into the cozy interior of the houseboat, it was evident that Sal had already spotted Reggie through the window. Everyone was up and busy gathering their gear.

“Should we leave our packs here since we’re coming back tonight?” Krin asked, hoping she could get a reprieve from having to carry all her possessions everywhere she went.

“Not me,” Jinks replied, adjusting the strap of his guitar case as if it were an extension of himself. “You never know where the day—or the road—is going to take you. We might never see this place again, and I don’t want to be stuck out in the world without my gear. It ain’t much, but it’s all I have.”

Holly nodded in agreement, hoisting her pack up and slinging it onto her back. “It’s safer to take it, just in case we get separated or something goes south. You don’t want to be stuck somewhere without your gear.”

Krin’s shoulders slumped and she groaned with disappointment.

“I get it,” Dan said with a sympathetic smile. “I’m tired of lugging that heavy piece of crap around too, but we have to err on the side of caution these days. Those are the rules of the world we live in.”

“Those rules are crap,” Krin mumbled, sounding like a disgruntled teenager.

Sal disappeared into his stateroom to change clothes. When he reemerged, it was in a baby blue tracksuit with a white T-shirt beneath, a gold chain glinting against his chest. Over the tracksuit, he wore a quilted down vest, and on his feet were sturdy hiking boots that looked wildly out of place with the rest of his outfit.

Sal glanced down at his boots with a wry grin. “Please excuse my unfortunate fashion choices. Current conditions require that style be sacrificed for utility. Fortunately, no one has a camera to catch me looking like this. The guys at the club would never let me live it down.”

“You look fine,” Krin said, trying to reassure him, though she couldn’t help but stifle a smile.

Sal winked at her and led the group out onto the deck, then down the gangplank to the dock. Once they were on solid ground, Dan was able to get a better look at Sal’s security team. There were a half-dozen men, all outfitted with high quality but well-used tactical gear. They wore serious expressions and made small talk between themselves while they waited to see what the day would bring.

Dan had never been around security professionals other than law enforcement before but these guys were the real deal as far as he could tell. They carried themselves with an air of competency and efficiency that made him feel like a complete amateur by comparison. Of course, compared to him, most people were more competent. Dan wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger when people needed killing, and in fact he’d done it multiple times, but he had no tactical training. He was just a self-reliant and often impaired hillbilly trying to survive in a collapsed world. The security contractors didn’t bother introducing themselves, nor did Sal or Reggie make any effort to introduce them. They were there for a job, not making friends.

“The guys know where we’re going and they have a route planned,” Reggie told his dad.

Sal nodded, satisfied. “Perfect. Lead the way.”

Without further discussion, the tactical team took the lead, slipping into a formation that spoke of planning and experience. Reggie, then Sal, followed a few paces behind them. Dan and his group brought up the rear.

Dan glanced sideways at Holly and caught the unease that radiated off her. He knew what she was feeling. They were accustomed to their own small group, making decisions without the involvement of relative strangers. The addition of Jinks to their intimate group had already stirred up some uncertainty, and now they were walking into the unknown with Sal, Reggie, and these heavily armed strangers. It was a bit much for Holly, who preferred to be the one with her hands on the wheel.

Since they weren’t currently in a position where he could speak to her concerns, he did the only thing he could think of. He reached out and gave Holly’s shoulder a reassuring pat. Despite everything, Dan had a tendency toward optimism, even when it wasn’t always grounded in reality. He believed things would work out in the end, even when logic suggested otherwise.

Holly shot him a look that was equal parts exasperation and appreciation. She understood that Dan’s optimism was a stubborn, enduring part of him. It was sometimes a comfort, other times a source of frustration.

Had they not been among strangers, Dan might have launched into a lecture on “the Way of Dan”—his philosophy on life that was usually more hopeful than wise. He reverted to it most days, spinning off examples of how he believed that if people just kept pushing forward, life would eventually throw them a bone. Although Holly scoffed at his monologues, deep down, she suspected it was part of what had kept them both going when things were bleakest. Perhaps it was ignorance, or maybe it was hope. Either way, Dan clung to it. In this case, they were buoyed by the hope that Sal was the real deal and genuinely knew someone who might be able to help them get home.

The murmur of the river faded behind them, replaced by their rhythmic steps and the distant, early-morning calls of birds. The air was damp and cool, with the scent of wet leaves and the faint tang of the river. Dan settled into his thoughts, aware that it got harder each day for optimism alone to propel them forward. They needed more progress and fewer obstacles.

15

Sal’s long driveway led them to a tall wrought iron gate, which opened onto a littered street. There were more estates like Sal’s scattered along it, all of them with dramatic gates leading to ostentatious homes.

“Any of your neighbors stick around?” Dan asked. “Any of them toughing this out like you are?” He felt kind of weird about stating it that way since Sal’s living conditions weren’t that tough at all. While they might not have been as plush as Kyle’s bunker, they weren’t too shabby.

“A couple of them brought in help like I did.” Sal gestured toward the security team. “They’re trying to stick it out until things get better.”

“Assuming they do,” Holly said.

Sal nodded. “Assuming they do.”

The security detail set a steady pace with no effort toward stealth. They marched up the center of the debris-strewn lane with an air of boldness, moving like a well-oiled machine, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any signs of a threat. They were ready, alert, and unafraid, projecting an aura of proficiency and menace designed to keep any bad actors at a safe distance. Dan imagined the men would move the same if they were protecting an asset in Baghdad, Fallujah, or Somalia.

It took thirty minutes of walking before they reached the outskirts of the city, where they began to encounter a scattering of people along the road. A woman in rags crouched by a random pile of trash, her bony fingers picking through it with a grim determination. When she found something of interest, she tucked it into a stained pillowcase, all the while mumbling a monkish cadence that could have been anything from a prayer to a favorite song. Nearby, a gaunt man in a stained cardigan walked a dog that looked as thin and haggard as he did, the two of them moving with a kind of shared weariness. They passed a teenage boy who eyed them suspiciously, clutching a fish beneath his arm as though he feared they might snatch it from him.

The security team paid only the most rudimentary attention to these stragglers. They assessed the threat level, then moved on, an armored shell between their principals and the city’s denizens. Most of the people they passed gave them a wide berth, wary of the group’s weapons and their intense, threatening demeanor. Sal’s team made clear that lethal force was an option, perhaps even a preference.

“How did the city as a whole fare?” Holly asked, glancing at the faded storefronts and shattered windows of the businesses they passed. “Dan and I were in Boise immediately after the collapse and it was a mess. Things went downhill quickly. We felt like we’d die if we stuck around any longer.”

Sal’s expression turned bitter. “It wasn’t Kansas City’s finest moment, but I’m sure it played out just like Boise. I love this city. I made my bones here, raised my family, but human nature is the same wherever you go. There are regular decent folks and there are scumbags. The balance tips quickly when the cops quit answering the phones. The scumbags floated to the top, just like they probably did in every city across the United States. That’s why I have to pay a security team to babysit me twenty-four hours a day.”

“So how are things now?” Dan asked, taking in the solitude of this once bustling city. “We just came out of winter and I’m assuming there are fewer people?”

“Definitely fewer,” Sal said with a nod. “Not many stuck around. Life without power is easier in the country than in the city. Out there they can hunt and grow food. There’s firewood, homes with woodstoves, basic survival shit. That’s what anyone with any sense did. I’m an old dog who didn’t want to leave home and fortunately I had the ability to stick around.” He rubbed his fingers together in a gesture that indicated it was money that made that happen.

“I tried to get him to move,” Reggie chimed in from up ahead, his tone implying this was an old argument. “He’s got a hunting cabin in the woods where we could live comfortably, but he says he’s not abandoning his city.”

Sal squared his shoulders, his voice taking on a stubborn edge. “I was born here, and I made my living here. As long as I have any say in the matter, I’ll die here too. Just not today, hopefully.”

Holly glanced up the road, wondering where they were headed. “So how far is this place we’re going? Not that I have anywhere else to be, but I have to admit that I’m curious.”

Sal chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t have anywhere else to be either. I just like getting out and seeing what’s going on sometimes. Otherwise, I’d be sitting on that boat all day, scratching my nuts while I wait for the world to get back to normal. Pardon the expression, ladies.”

“I’m hoping it will get back to normal soon,” said Dan. “All the modern conveniences have already been invented, so it’s not like we have to wait around for people to discover them. We just need to get the grid back up and get some international trade moving.”

Sal held a finger in the air. “International trade is already moving again, albeit on a small scale. Trust me on that one.”

Jinks grinned. “You know a guy?”

Sal pointed a gun finger at Jinks and clicked his tongue like a gunshot. “I know lots of guys, Slick, and we’re going to see a couple of them now. These are definitely good ones to know.”

They continued down the road and the frequency of buildings increased. They were the sprawling structures often on the outskirts of cities—automotive shops, wrecker services, mobile home dealerships, lumber yards, and light industrial buildings. Wind-blown garbage gathered against stranded vehicles, the edges of buildings, and the curb. The dust-covered windows of abandoned buildings glinted dully in the morning light. Smoke rose from unlikely places, revealing the hovels and gathering spots of those unable or too stubborn to flee. The air smelled of smoke, human waste, and decay.

Eventually, Dan found himself walking beside Jinks, and he sensed it wasn’t a coincidence. Jinks had intentionally altered his pace to fall in alongside Dan. He clearly had something weighing on his mind, and Dan figured he was waiting for the right moment to bring it up.

“I need to talk to you about something, Dan,” Jinks said, his voice low, as if he didn’t want the others to overhear.

Dan kept his expression neutral. Whatever the musician had to say, it felt like it was going to be more serious than his usual banter, based on the gravity of his tone. The first thing that flashed through his mind was that this was about Holly’s backpack. Would Jinks come clean about rummaging through it? Dan remained quiet, choosing to let Jinks get to the point in his own time.

Seeing that Dan wasn’t going to fill the silence, Jinks went on. “You remember the day we all met? The day we jumped off the train? I asked about your story, then offered my own analysis of it.”

Dan nodded, though he grimaced at the memory. It wasn’t a fond one. “Don’t remind me.” Jinks’s observations had left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Jinks’ barstool psychoanalysis had been uncomfortably accurate, cutting too close to the bone.

“I suggested you were a man who was glad to have woken up from his trance, but you were mired in guilt because it took your wife’s death to shake you awake.”

Dan’s face tightened, his tone sharp as he snapped, “Yeah, I remember.” He was about to get pissed off all over again.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Dan,” Jinks said, his voice softer now. “Even if I did sense those things about you, it was intrusive of me to just blurt them out there in front of God and everybody. I had no business throwing out that amateur assessment of your situation when we barely knew each other. I just wanted to apologize for that. It’s kind of been weighing on my mind.”

Dan walked a few more steps in silence, turning Jinks’s apology over in his head. His instinct in the past would have been to brush off the comment and immediately say everything was okay. He was more thoughtful these days, trying to choose his words with care and saying what he really felt. Trying to be honest instead of conciliatory. He wasn’t obligated to accept Jinks’s apology in order to make the man feel better.

“I’ll admit it felt a little invasive,” Dan said eventually. “Like a prostate exam from a fat-fingered doctor who’s all out of lube.”

“That’s graphic,” Jinks replied, his expression somewhere between disgust and amusement. “If that’s how it felt, I’m definitely sorry I said anything.”

“I had this uncle everyone called Buckeye. I’m not sure if he was really an uncle or not. Probably a cousin or something, but everyone called him Uncle Buckeye. He was a lifelong drunk and the state eventually took his driver’s license permanently, which takes a lot in Tennessee. At least it did back in the 80s. Uncle Buckeye used to play pool at this roadside beer joint called the Rack’n’Snack. He’d ride over there on this beat-up old moped with a milk crate hooked to the back of it for carrying shit. The thing didn’t require a driver’s license because it wouldn’t go over forty-five miles per hour.”

“I’ve known a few of those moped folks,” Jinks said.

“So one day Uncle Buckeye is playing pool and this loud-mouthed fellow starts giving him a hard time about his moped. He casts some aspersions as to Buckeye’s mental capacity that are downright rude. He asks if his parents were cousins or if he got dropped on his head when he was a baby. Everyone in the bar is laughing because the loudmouth is funny as hell, but it pissed Buckeye off. He tried to laugh it off as best he could, until it reached a point he just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“What did he do?” Jinks asked.

“He stuck around until he’d had about two dozen beers, then he ran out of money. No one would buy him anymore and the bar wouldn’t let him run a tab, so he said his goodbyes and headed for the door. As he passed by the bar that loudmouthed fellow apologized to Buckeye, said he hoped there were no hard feelings. Well, I guess the apology came too late because Buckeye stuck a pistol in the loudmouth’s face and shot him right through the teeth. Killed him deader than shit.”

“Uncle Buckeye go to prison?”

Dan shook his head. “No, he went home and shot himself on the front porch of his house. He was already dead when the law came for him.”

“What’s the point of that story?” Jinks asked cautiously.

“That story has always served to remind me that apologizing is no insurance against being punched in the face, or in Uncle Buckeye’s case, shot in the mouth.” Dan spread his hands as if he were delivering a lecture. “You see, part of why the things you said bothered me so much was because you weren’t wrong. Your comments hit close to home, and nobody likes to feel like their issues are that obvious. I sure don’t.”

“I guess you’re saying it might be wise to think about my words before I say them, huh?” Jinks summarized.

Dan shot Jinks a look that didn’t require explanation; a look that confirmed Jinks had gotten Dan’s intended message.

“I get that, Dan, I’m just wired differently than you are. I’m a songwriter, you know? I put my thoughts out there every day. I tear my beating heart out and lay it on the stage for everyone to stare at. I hang my feelings up like dirty laundry for the whole neighborhood to gawp at. I guess most people aren’t into that kind of self-flagellation. I forget that sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, next time just think of Uncle Buckeye. Even dead and gone, we can still learn from him.”

After a long moment, Jinks spoke again. “Can I say one more thing, Dan?”

“Not if it’s about me.”

Jinks chuckled. “It’s not. I received that message loud and clear. From this point forward, I’m only allowed to air out my own issues. No one else’s.”

“Good, glad to hear it. Now get on with what you want to say because all this jawing is ruining my sightseeing.”

Jinks took a breath and glanced up at the sky, as if searching for the right words. “You know what people are like?”

Dan arched an eyebrow. “Assholes?”

Jinks cracked up, then shook his head. “No, I mean in the grand scheme of things. As in an analogy. What are humans like?”

Dan threw up his hands, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “Beats the hell out of me, man. I’ve heard people compared to everything under the sun. I guess there’s a comparison for every situation, so what’s yours?”

Jinks altered his voice, adopting a tone that sounded as if he was delivering a line in some old Western, full of homespun wisdom. “People are like water filters.”

Dan sighed, tired of this conversation and ready to go back to walking in silence. “Okay, I give up. Why are people like water filters?”

Jinks leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. “Because life passes through us and we collect all the shit it carries—the pain, the anger, and the grit of just living life. Sometimes we collect so much it blocks us off and life can’t pass through us anymore. When we can’t rinse ourselves off, we need someone who can do it for us. Someone to take the filter out, hold it under the sink, and rinse off all the crap that’s collected there. That’s what therapy does. Sometimes the same thing can be accomplished by laying all your issues out in the open for you to see more clearly. That was my intention.”

Dan turned to state at Jinks for a long moment, his face a study in exasperation. “That may be the stupidest damn analogy I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Jinks laughed, a little too loud and a little too long. “Maybe so, but I’m an observer of people, Dan. People sit there watching me on stage, but I’m watching them too. I see things, I learn things. Don’t you think your friend Carl picked up some insights from all those years he spent playing in bars?”

“If Carl gained any insights, they didn’t help him make better decisions. Every relationship the man had was a trainwreck. He’d meet some woman who smiled at him from a barstool, and by the fifth drink, she was the love of his life.”

Jinks scratched his chin, thoughtful. “Huh. I guess that kind of blows my theory about musicians being experts on human nature, doesn’t it?”

Dan grinned, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. “Blows it all to hell.”

Having delivered his message, Jinks sped up, aiming to retake his old spot in the line.

“Hey,” Dan called after him. “One more thing.”

Jinks faced Dan with a quizzical look. “What is it?”

Dan chose his words carefully. There was something about country boys. They could be all friendly and easygoing one moment, then switch gears in a heartbeat. Dan had always been that way. His Uncle Buckeye had been that way. Even though Dan’s conversation with Jinks had remained civil, the thing he and Holly had discussed that morning weighed on him like a brick in his pocket.

“Holly told me someone went through her pack. That’s a big concern, seeing as we don’t know who it was. Was it one of our people, or was it one of our hosts? She said the only time her gear was left alone yesterday was when she finished her shower and was in the parlor talking with Sal. You know anything about that?”

Jinks kept his gaze fixed on the trail, his expression tight. He didn’t meet Dan’s eye, and there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there before. He appeared taken aback that Dan would confront him with such a pointed question.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I let you take the first showers last night. It was only polite since I’m the new guy. When I got my turn and got out of the shower, I came back to the room and Holly’s pack had fallen over. I didn’t see it happen but some of her stuff spilled out onto the floor. I didn’t think anything of it. I shoved her things back inside it and propped her pack back up where she left it. I didn’t think it would turn into a whole thing. I certainly didn’t expect to be accused of getting into her stuff.”

“Nobody’s accusing you of anything, Jinks. We just need to know who we can trust and who we can’t. I’m glad to hear there’s a simple explanation. I’m sure Holly will feel the same. We’re putting a lot of trust in Sal and we barely know him. I didn’t want to think he had people digging through our gear while we were eating at his table last night.”

Jinks’s jaw tightened. He looked over at Dan, his expression a mixture of frustration and hurt. Dan couldn’t tell if those feelings were genuine, or Jinks was projecting them to throw him off.

“Good talk, Dan,” he said. His tone suggested anything but.

Dan studied Jinks’s face, weighing the sincerity of his words. It was a challenge to read a man like Jinks. He carried a kind of practiced charm that could be genuine or simply a well-rehearsed act. The story he’d told about Holly’s pack sounded straightforward enough, the kind of thing that could happen to anyone. Dan wanted to believe him, but the unease lingered in his gut.

Jinks quickened his pace, putting a few steps of distance between them, and Dan let him go.

The morning air was cool, the mist from the river lingering as they walked through the shadow of the city. The sun was already cutting through the fog and it would burn off soon. The security team kept up their quiet vigilance, moving like shadows themselves, their eyes scanning every hidey-hole and abandoned storefront.

Dan glanced back and caught a glimpse of Holly. She walked with that same purposeful stride she always had, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the firm grip she had on her rifle. When she met his eye, he gave a slight shake of his head, a silent signal that he’d spoken with Jinks but hadn’t gotten any clear answers. She nodded, acknowledging the message, her mouth tightening into a thin line.

They trudged through the desolate streets, Dan’s mind wandering back to what Jinks had said. While the image of Holly’s pack spilled open on the floor was innocent enough, the look in Jinks’s eyes as he told the story left Dan wondering. Had it really been an accident, or was Holly right in saying that her pack had been searched? The thought nagged at him, adding another layer of uncertainty to the already precarious situation they were in.

16

After two hours of trekking the apocalyptic fringes of Kansas City, the group reached their destination, a district that appeared dominated by light manufacturing companies and industrial supply houses. Dan read the dirty and bullet-riddled signs as they passed: a metal supply company, a bearing distributor, a welding supply shop, and a facility that did powder coating. There were multiple service businesses related to industrial manufacturing as well—fabrication shops, forklift repair, industrial electrical services, CNC and water jet cutting, and a company that repaired roll-up doors. There was a company that made utility trailers, a flagpole manufacturer, and a shop that rewound electrical motors. Another company provided upfitting services for commercial trucks. Broken shards of plate glass windows crunched under their feet, a reminder that not everyone respected the hard work of the people who had built these companies.

No one in the group bothered asking Sal where they were headed. He’d made it clear that he wanted it to be a surprise. They let him have his fun. They had a lot of traveling days ahead of them and giving up one for the possibility of something better was a small sacrifice.

“There!” Sal announced with a flourish, pointing toward a large facility set far back off the road. “Taadaa!” He sounded like a man revealing a hidden treasure.

Dan spotted a building that blended in well with the aging structures around it. The original building looked like a 1940s automobile dealership that had been partially restored. It was surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire, a fortress in the middle of this industrial ghost town. A neat row of matching semi-trucks sat in the parking lot, their diesel engines certainly silenced by the EMP. The old dealership building featured a dramatic neon sign on the front that read “Yancey Racing Museum” in bold letters.

“Is that part of the Yancey Racing NASCAR Team? I’ve heard of them,” Dan said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah?” Sal prompted.

“Definitely. East Tennessee is NASCAR country. Even if you don’t follow racing, you can’t help but know who the teams are. It’s on the local news all the time.”

“So how did you come to know these people, Sal?” Holly asked. “Are you a racing fan?” Her real question was what the hell a racing team had to do with getting them home to Tennessee, but that would be an impolite question at this juncture. Sal would get around to that in his own sweet time.

He winked at Holly. “Remember that you and I played on different teams before the lights went out, Holly. Let’s just say these guys needed a favor, some help with a ridiculous legal technicality. I managed to grease the wheels and get things moving in their favor.”

“Because you knew a guy?” Jinks interjected, a smirk playing on his lips.

This time Sal didn’t react in the manner they all expected. He said, “Sometimes it’s not who you know, but the heat you can hold to someone’s feet.” The casual way he said it made clear that Sal was as comfortable in the world of “fixing things” as he was when he was kicked back in his recliner with his dog.

As they neared the building, the security team fanned out, giving Sal space to take the lead. Sal raised his arms over his head and waved them in a broad arc. “Yo, it’s Sal!” he called, his voice echoing off the concrete and metal of their surroundings.

Dan scanned the area, squinting against the morning light. He couldn’t spot any visible security on the grounds of the facility. He leaned toward Holly, his voice barely a murmur. “I don’t see any guards, and I know he can’t be shouting at a camera.”

Holly’s eyes darted upward, her attention to detail sharper than Dan’s. She pointed subtly toward the roofline of the building. “I saw a flash up there. Either a spotting scope or a rifle scope. I have no doubt there’s a sniper up there. That’s what I would do if I were them.”

Dan nodded, a chill running through him. No one liked realizing they had guns trained on them, though it was definitely more common in this world than it had been in the old one.

Sal’s announcement that they were at the gate brought results because soon a figure came jogging toward them. It was a teenager, maybe sixteen, dressed in a hoodie that looked a size too big for him and jeans that were probably already stylishly ragged when they were purchased new. He had a key ring the size of a grapefruit that jangled as he worked through them to open the padlocks securing the heavy roll gate. When he rolled the gate open enough for them to walk through, he waved them inside, then hastily locked everything back up.

Sal was already striding across the vast parking lot toward the main building, moving like a man who knew where he was going and felt comfortable making himself at home. His entourage kept pace behind him, and by the time they reached the building, the teenager had caught up, panting from his run.

“That door is unlocked.” The kid pointed to a narrow metal door meant for foot traffic. It was tucked between two massive roll-up doors big enough to allow semis to pull into the building.

Even before they were inside, Dan heard something that made him stop in his tracks. It was the unmistakable sound of an air-powered impact wrench being used to tighten a bolt. He froze and looked at Holly. “Do you hear that?”

She had. The sounds coming from the building were so clear there was no mistaking them. This building wasn’t an idle shell like thousands of others they’d passed. This was a working garage. From inside came the sounds of drills, grinders, air compressors, and impact wrenches. Something was clearly going on here that was not happening anywhere else they’d been.

Sal turned the handle and threw open the door, striding inside like he owned the place. The interior of the shop had glass block set high in the cinderblock walls to allow natural light inside the space. In addition there were portable lighting racks stationed around the enormous room, providing illumination for various tasks. Lighting stations that required electricity and were working. There were electric and pneumatic tools in use throughout the space. Dan and Holly exchanged curious glances. This was utterly unexpected.

At the appearance of strangers in their midst, the sounds of industry died out. People straightened from the work to regard the newcomers. Someone turned off the noisy air compressor and a generator, both of them vented to the outside with shiny, flexible ducting. A short, stocky man with dyed hair and a bushy mustache came bustling over. He wore a grease stained khaki suit jacket, making him look like he couldn’t decide whether he was a car salesman or a mechanic.

“Sal!” the man exclaimed, pulling Sal into a back-slapping hug that looked more like a wrestling move. “I haven’t seen you in a week. What’s been up?”

Sal grinned and returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm. “You know me, Tater. I’m always hustling, even when the world’s all gone to hell.”

“Lying bastard! You’ve been asleep in your recliner.” Tater barked a laugh, then turned his attention to the newcomers. He gave them a once-over, his smile warm and friendly. “And who are these fine folks you’ve brought with you today?”

“These are friends of mine, Tater.” He pointed out Dan in particular. “That one right there jumped in the river yesterday to save Fluffy when she fell off the dock. I thought she was a goner for sure.”

Tater looked incredulous. “With the river flooded like that?”

Sal nodded. “Dan didn’t know me from Adam and he risked his life to save my dog. You can imagine what that means to me.”

“I can,” said Tater. “Dogs are family.”

Sal introduced his friend as Tater Yancey, a former stock car driver and owner of Yancey Racing. He then went around and introduced Krin, Dan, Holly, and Jinks.

After the introductions, Sal said, “So, Dan and his buddies here were traveling the river, trying to get home, but I convinced them that’s a horrible idea.”

“Terrible idea,” Tater agreed somberly.

“I was hoping I might be able to help them with their travel plans, if you know what I mean. They’re interested in getting to Tennessee and it’s the least I can do for them.”

Tater nodded and grinned, as if he and Sal were party to an inside joke that the newcomers weren’t in on. “Ah, well, any friends of Sal’s are friends of mine. Let’s go sit a spell and we’ll see if we can make your visit to our facility worth the trip.” As Tater led the way, he made small talk with Sal. “So how’s life as a river rat?”

“I wouldn’t trade it. It’s quiet and calm most of the time. If I feel the need for adventure, I come into the city. Otherwise, Fluffy and I sit by the fire and enjoy the peace.”

“I knew it! Sitting in the recliner, just like I suspected.” Tater pointed at Sal with a cheesy grin. “You know you don’t have to stay on that old tub. I’ve told you a thousand times you can come stay with us. We’ve got a good setup here, thanks to you.”

“Nah, too noisy around this joint,” Sal said. “All this work would keep me up.”

“How about I send someone out there to wire a new generator into your boat for you?” Tater suggested.

Dan and Holly exchanged a glance. They hadn’t come across many people with working generators. Only a handful, really, and those lived in fear for their lives, constantly afraid the noise would be overheard and bring violence to their doorsteps.

“Nah, a generator would be too noisy out there in the snooty ‘burbs. It would raise questions,” Sal said. “Or scumbags would try to steal it and I’d be tossing bodies in the river every day. I’ll just stick with what I’m doing for now. I like the pace of it.”

“Exactly why you folks should stay off the river,” Tater said, turning his attention to Dan’s group. “No one is getting past St. Louis these days. The farther you go downriver, the worse things get. The river is just one big funnel, driving everyone right into a trap. Stay on it, and you’ll end up dead.”

Jinks raised an eyebrow at the intensity in Tater’s voice. “Come on, Tater, don’t sugarcoat it for us. Tell us how you really feel.”

Tater was unfazed by Jinks’ sarcasm. “It’s the wild west out there, man, and heading down that river is like riding straight into a canyon full of bad guys. The only difference is you won’t see the danger until it’s too late. I can’t put it much simpler than that.”

Holly, ever the pragmatist, nodded thoughtfully. “Good to know. We appreciate the warning.”

Tater turned back to the workers scattered around the shop floor. “Everything’s fine, folks. Sal just brought some friends with him. You can get on back to work!”

At Tater’s signal, the hum of activity resumed. Someone restarted the generator while another flipped a switch and an air compressor began chugging steadily, filling the space with its rhythmic thump. A third worker, using a battery-powered reciprocating saw, cut through a length of aluminum tubing.

Dan was incredulous. Since leaving the remote mountains of Idaho, they’d encountered only a few isolated pockets of people with electricity. All of them had been preppers who’d hoarded equipment in Faraday cages and underground bunkers, much like Kyle Cross had.

“This is interesting,” Holly said, her voice betraying her curiosity.

“Indeed it is.” Dan eyed the tools and machinery with wonder. For a moment it was like they’d stepped back a year in time, to those halcyon days before the EMP when there might have been a million such shops buzzing with activity across the United States.

Noticing that his guests were awestruck, Sal laughed heartily, which echoed through the cavernous space. “In order for this to all make sense, I’m going to have to give you some background.”

“I’m all ears,” Dan replied.

Tater clapped his greasy hands, rubbing them together like an anxious kid. “How about we head into the breakroom for some coffee? This might take a while.”

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” Sal asked. “I hate to get in the way of a working man trying to do his job.”

Tater waved him off. “These guys don’t need me hanging over them. In fact, they prefer I stay out of the way, although I rarely give them that satisfaction.”

Tater and Sal both laughed at this.

“We’ve earned the right to be in their way, haven’t we?” Sal cackled. “This younger generations loves to think they know it all.”

Tater patted him on the back. “Indeed we have, old friend. Indeed we have.”

Tater headed across the shop, gesturing for Dan and the others to follow him. They moved toward a side door marked "Employees Only,", the work returning to full force behind them. There was something comforting about that sound in a world that had grown so quiet. It was a reminder of a time in the recent past when such noises were associated with routine errands, such as oil changes or getting new tires.

The breakroom was a throwback to better days: round tables surrounded by mismatched chairs, a bulletin board with Department of Labor posters, and a vending machine that had once been filled with candy bars. The walls were adorned with old racing posters and photos of Yancey Racing history.

Tater walked over to a coffee pot connected to an orange extension cord that ran across the room and back out the door. He picked up a sleeve of Styrofoam cups. “Coffee anyone?”

No one turned him down. He filled the cups, then started a second pot. Sal settled into one of the chairs, crossing his legs with the ease of a man who was comfortable anywhere he went. Dan, Holly, Jinks, and Krin took seats after they’d gotten their cups of coffee. Tater handed one to Sal before sitting down with his own.

“The guys and I will be out on the floor if you need us,” Reggie told his father.

Sal nodded, and the breakroom door closed behind Reggie with a dull thud, muffling most of the noise from the shop.

Dan broke the ice. “So what’s going on out there? Did you guys have tools and equipment stockpiled out of reach of the EMP or were you just lucky enough to come across working tools somewhere? Holly, Krin, and I lucked into a situation like that in Idaho. We were in a hardened bunker for a while with solar power and a backup generator.”

“Why did you leave?” Tater asked. “Places like that are the exception and not the rule these days.”

“We spent the worst of winter there,” Dan said. “I have kids back east, though. They’re adults now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about them. I need to get back home.”

Tater nodded with understanding. “It was neither of those things for us. We didn’t have a bunker, nor did we have the dumb luck to just run across a shop full of working tools.”

Sal tried a sip of his coffee and winced when he burned his tongue. “I’m sure you guys know that the Central American cartels were quite active in the United States prior to the EMP. Most of the U.S. lost power to this event, but that doesn’t mean the cartels quit doing business here. In fact, they saw it as an opportunity. The border had completely collapsed and there was no law enforcement in the U.S. other than what individual communities put in place for themselves. The cartels immediately began strengthening their positions in the United States, knowing that by the time order was restored, there would be no street-level organization able to compete with them.”

“That makes sense,” Holly said. “Their biggest competition comes from established American gangs, and those gangs would have been hobbled by the lack of resources.”

Sal nodded. “A lot of these American gangs are headed by highly intelligent individuals. They’re businesspeople who understood that it’s better to work with the cartels than fight against them under these circumstances. New alliances are forming every day and the face of organized crime in the United States is going to look a lot different once the lights are turned back on.”

“So the cartels aren’t just rolling in and killing all the opposition?” Holly asked.

“What would be the point of that?” Sal posed. “You’d be shooting yourself in the foot by killing off the people who know the area and have street-level contacts. Better to assimilate them and turn them into foot soldiers.”

Dan laughed. “I can’t imagine that’ll work everywhere. The hillbillies and rednecks I know aren’t likely to join up with a cartel. They’re more likely to join up with their neighbors and start taking heads.”

“There have been pockets of resistance, from what I hear,” Sal told them. “New York and New Jersey had their issues. Resistance from the ‘old mustaches’ as we used to call them. Then there were the hillbilly mountains and the redneck South. All those places have a drug element, and the people who want drugs and drug money will gladly welcome the cartels.”

Holly cocked her head at Sal. “Where do you fit into that picture? Are you resisting the cartels or working with them?”

Sal studied Holly for a moment before answering. The question was so abrupt as to be rude, but he determined that she meant no offense. She was more curious than anything else, which made sense coming from someone with a law enforcement background.

“I never ran Kansas City,” Sal said with modesty. “I worked directly for the people who did though. I had connections and I’d done business with the cartels before. They can be ruthless pricks, but they can also make you a lot of money. It’s impossible to avoid them these days. After the power went out, they approached me as a potential partner rather than as competition. I’d like to think that’s because I’d earned their respect over the years.”

Holly shook her head, having difficulty processing what she was hearing. “You make it sound so…sanitized. Like business instead of a criminal enterprise.”

Sal paused as if the answer was obvious. “It is business.”

In Holly’s experience, anything involving cartels was a red flag. “Yes, but it’s the business of trafficking guns, vulnerable people, and drugs. That’s not exactly the kind of business that our nation was built on.”

Dan raised his eyebrows. “Some might argue with that assertion, Holly. Surely, you’re not so naïve as to think our country was solely built on the hard work of a few patriot men. Our nation was built on a lot of things no one is comfortable talking about.”

“Bear with me a minute here,” Sal said. “All those enterprises you listed—guns, drugs, and human trafficking—might once have been the cartels’ bread and butter here in the US, but they’ve moved beyond that in the last six months. They’re bringing in goods and aid that no one else is delivering. Despite the fact that our country always responds to disasters in other nations, they aren’t exactly lining up to return the favor in our time of need. Sure, there are a few countries helping out, but a lot of the nations that owe us are turning their backs and whistling like they don’t even know us.”

Holly shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Trust me on that one,” Sal said. “Regardless of the cartels’ reputation, they’re buying goodwill in American communities. They’re winning the hearts and minds of locals. They’re bringing in helicopters full of goods and handing them out for free. Small businesses are buying products from the cartels to resell locally so they can get back up and running. When the U.S. finally gets back on its feet, your average Joe is going to remember who helped them rebuild and it isn’t the American government. The average American’s attitude about the cartels is going to be entirely different.”

Jinks leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Sounds like the U.S. should’ve taken out the cartels while they had the chance. Once the lights come back on, their foothold in America will be so strong there’ll be no getting rid of them.”

“That’s absolutely true,” Sal agreed. “But we can argue all day about what the U.S. should or shouldn’t have done. The reality is they didn’t do anything to stop them and now it’s too late.”

“Let’s circle back around to the original question,” Dan said, shifting in his seat. “What’s going on here? What operation are you running out of this place if you don’t mind me asking? Is this some kind of cartel chop shop?”

Sal burst into laughter. “What the hell, Dan? What would be the point of a chop shop? You think there’s a big market for used car parts right now?”

“I guess not,” Dan said sheepishly.

“As I said, the cartel is giving away emergency supplies to people. They’ve been flying in helicopters regularly, handing out cheap, easy-to-prepare food such as MREs, rice, beans, and canned goods. They distribute water filters and medical supplies. In addition to that, they’re also delivering goods to businessmen such as myself so we can re-establish commerce.”

Holly’s reply was suspicious, if not sarcastic. “Re-establish commerce, huh? That the guns, drugs, and human trafficking we were talking about earlier?”

Sal waved a hand in her direction. “No, not at all. Just bear with me for a minute.”

Holly made a gesture of surrender. “Alright, keep going.”

“I needed a way to distribute the goods I was getting from the cartel to people within my network. A helicopter would be ideal, but they require a lot of maintenance and I don’t have the infrastructure for that yet. Not to mention that the schmucks on the ground enjoy taking potshots at anything they see flying around in the air. Ground transportation is the next best option, but most vehicles were fried by the EMP.”

“They might be repairable,” Dan pointed out. “Some of the people we’ve encountered on the road said they could be fixed with a supply of repair parts. We’ve seen a few older vehicles on the road.”

“Maybe,” Sal said. “The problem is bigger than that. See, the cartel gave me a couple of side-by-side ATVs, and we tried using those to move goods, and we kept running into problems. There were literal roadblocks, either man-made or created by debris, that we couldn’t remove. Then I heard about those hardened trains that the government was operating. I looked into getting a train of my own, but that was a dead end. I needed something more maneuverable. That’s where Tater and his team come in.”

Tater picked up the thread. “My racing team employed top-notch engineers and fabricators. All race teams have to in order to be competitive. Since we had a relationship with Sal, he came to us with this challenge. I had my people take a look at it from all angles. We decided that the railroad tracks had mostly been cleared by the government so they could use their hardened trains. It made sense to take advantage of that. Sal didn’t want a big, cumbersome train, he needed something lightweight with cargo capacity, and, most importantly, something that could drive off the tracks if it became necessary to escape them in a hurry.”

“Like a Hi-Rail,” Jinks threw out.

“What’s that?” Krin asked, cupping her warm coffee with both hands.

“Those trucks you can run on the railroad track because they have a set of steel wheels that drop down,” Jinks explained.

“Exactly!” Tater jabbed a finger at Jinks. “But with a few modifications since most modern vehicles were disabled.”

“What kind of modifications?” asked Dan.

Tater smiled. “Nobody likes getting shot at, so our engineers whipped up a bullet-resistant composite made from Kevlar and carbon fiber. It’s not perfect, but it keeps the vehicle safe until the driver can get away. Speed is our main defense.”

Jinks looked doubtful. “I grew up around a railroad. None of the Hi-Rail vehicles I saw were anything you’d describe as fast.”

“They weren’t built by a race team,” Sal countered.

“So what exactly did you do?” Dan asked. “Did you repair one of these existing Hi-Rail trucks or something else.”

“Definitely something else,” Tater said. “If you noticed the sign out front, this isn’t just a racing garage, it’s a car museum. It’s where we house the Yancey family’s car collection.”

“If what we heard on the road is correct, some of those older vehicles should be easier to repair after the EMP,” said Dan. “Is that true?”

“That was our starting point,” Tater replied. “We took a 1965 Plymouth Satellite, repaired the damaged electronics, and got it running. With a little welding and fabricating we fitted it with railgear so it could be used on the tracks.”

“And it worked? You’ve tested it?” Dan asked.

“I hit a hundred miles per hour before I started to get worried I might derail,” Tater said, eyes on fire with the excitement of his success. “It was a smashing success, without the ‘smashing’ part.” He laughed at his own joke.

“That was just the beginning,” Sal piped up. “At this point we’ve made hundreds of successful runs in these things. Tater and his people have vintage race cars set up for high-speed runs. They’ve got a fleet of old Dodge Power Wagons they use as heavy haulers. They’ve got Land Rovers, Jeeps, and Toyotas with railgear. They even set up a few campers and trailers for running on the tracks.”

Dan leaned forward, looking between Sal and Tater, the possibilities swirling in his mind like a dust devil. “You think one of these might be able to reach Tennessee?”

“They will and they have,” Sal said confidently. “We’ve made multiple runs there already, though only as far as Nashville. That’s the extent of my network of business associates.”

“Could people theoretically buy passage on one of these runs?” Dan asked. “Because whatever it costs, I’d try to find a way to come up with it. This sounds almost too good to be true.”

Sal shook his head. “Absolutely not. You cannot buy passage on one of our vehicles. That’s not happening.”

Dan looked crushed. “Can I ask why not?”

Sal grinned. “Because I’m going to haul your ass to Tennessee as a favor for saving my dog. I’ll drop you off as close as possible to your home and it won’t cost you a freakin’ dime. It’s my treat for you being a good human.”

Dan and Holly looked at each other in shock. After so many obstacles and hardships, this was the best opportunity they’d come across. The odds had been stacked against them every step of the way. They’d been forced to kill and had nearly been killed themselves. They’d been wet, cold, blistered, and sore. They’d been hungry, thirsty, and seen things that would haunt them for the rest of their days, and Sal was offering them something that felt like a miracle. An express ticket home.

17

After the jaw-dropping revelations in the breakroom, everyone was eager to see some of the vehicles Sal and Tater had described. The spacious garage, which had once housed race cars in various stages of development, now operated like a manufacturing facility. Different stations were set up to handle various steps in the modification of older vehicles. At one station, a man was using an acetylene torch to cut useless, heavy pieces of steel from an old F600 wrecker.

“We get rid of all the dead weight,” Tater called out over the sounds of men working. “If we can rip out of a piece of steel and replace it with aluminum, that’s what we do.”

To that point, one man was using a hydraulic bender to shape a length of aluminum tubing. Nearby, another man held a similar piece of tubing in place as someone TIG-welded it to the old truck. The doors had been removed and a young man was applying Kevlar fabric to the door and adhering it by brushing on a noxious-smelling resin. Another team worked beneath the hood of a 1981 Land Cruiser while another was doing the same with an early model K-5 Blazer.

“The Blazer was missing an engine,” Tater pointed out. “My guys pulled a flathead V-8 out of a wrecked Lincoln we had out back. They say they can make it work, but I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble. I told them they have two days to figure it out, then they have to move on. They love a challenge.”

At the next station, a vintage tractor was being used as a forklift to hold a railgear assembly in place beneath a 1960s International box truck. Two men with hoods and stick welders worked to secure the system to the undercarriage of the vehicle. Next to that, men were replacing the fuel tank, repairing the wiring, and upgrading the brakes on a similar truck.

“I don’t see any gun ports,” Jinks mused.

Tater shook his head “This isn’t a vehicle designed for a prolonged engagement. It’s got enough bullet resistance to stop a few rounds and allow you to escape, but it’s not an MRAP or up-armored HUMVEE. We do layer Kevlar on the glass, but we leave open sections for visibility. It makes the vehicles awkward to maneuver since your visibility is restricted, but it reduces the chance of a round entering the cabin.”

They walked over to a completed vehicle so they wouldn’t be in the way of anyone working. It was a late-fifties Dodge truck that had once belonged to the military.

Tater pulled open the door. “You’ll have to excuse the lack of plush accommodations. Keeping the weight down is a priority.”

Holly looked concerned. “I don’t see any seatbelts. What’s a normal cruising speed for something like this?”

“We keep it under 120 miles an hour for safety reasons,” Sal said matter-of-factly.

Dan’s group exchanged glances and Sal laughed at their shocked expressions.

Tater waved a hand in the air. “He’s joking. In a rattletrap like this we’re probably not going over fifty. We only break one hundred miles per hour in the rail-converted race cars.”

“Yeah, count me out of that,” Holly said sharply. “What if it jumps the track? What if it hits a deer, or a limb on the track? At high speed it could go airborne and wrap itself around a tree. I don’t want to die in a pile of twisted wreckage.”

“Seatbelts!” Sal rolled his eyes. “One of the perks of this new America is the lack of all that regulatory bullshit that used to stifle innovation. This country was great before we all started suing each other over every damn thing. Restaurants won’t serve hot coffee anymore because some knucklehead might scald his balls. How are we supposed to evolve as a species if we drag along the people who eat laundry detergent?”

“I’m not sure wearing a seatbelt can be compared to eating laundry detergent,” Holly said.

“So, basically, we ride at our own risk?” Jinks intervened.

Tater patted Holly on the shoulder. “Don’t pay any attention to Sal. He’s just teasing you. Once these vehicles are complete we install a safety harness, just like a race car. It won’t protect you from a bullet, but it might help in a crash.”

Sal winked. “Sorry, Holly. I was just pulling your leg. I admit it’s not a perfect system, but it damn sure beats paddling down a river while people shoot at you like a duck in a shooting gallery.”

“We’ll take it!” Dan did not want to let the opportunity slip away. “I don’t know what anyone else wants to do, but I’ll take your offer. Drive me to the house!”

Holly jabbed an elbow into his ribs. Dan let out a pained “oof” and winced, rubbing his side. Holly glared at him for answering without consulting her.

She turned to their hosts. “How soon could we leave, assuming we all choose to go?”

“I’ll have one ready tomorrow,” Tater said. “We just finished it yesterday and it’s going through testing now. It’s a solid rig, but we like to make sure everything’s in top shape before putting them on the road. I’d also be sending one of my most experienced drivers with you.”

“Not that I’m picky,” Dan asked, “but what’s the ride?”

Tater grinned. He walked over to Sal and whispered in his ear, prompting Sal to crack up and snort.

“Epic,” Sal cackled.

“What’s the joke?” Holly asked.

“It’s not a joke,” Tater said. “We’ll show you tomorrow. Let it be a surprise.”

Holly, not a fan of surprises, looked concerned.

Dan had a broad grin on his face, glad to have a plan for getting further down the road. “Assuming we’re leaving tomorrow, how will this work? What time do we need to be here?”

Sal gestured toward Tater. “This one’s all you, buddy.”

“We face the same challenges as everyone else when traveling,” Tater explained. “There are advantages to both day and night travel. What we’ve found works best is leaving here around 4 PM and sticking to tracks that the government has already cleared. Our drivers use night-vision that Sal secured from the cartel, though there’s still a risk of running into obstacles, either natural or manmade. We try to balance speed with safety, but every trip is an adventure. That’s why we keep our speed to reasonable levels, despite what Sal says.”

“I like an adventure,” Dan said. “I can’t thank you enough, Sal.”

Sal smiled, clearly pleased. “Glad I could help. It’s the least I could do after what you did for me.”

Dan extended a hand to Tater, and the two men shook. “We’ll be here tomorrow around four. I can’t wait.”

18

The walk back to Sal’s estate went by much faster than the walk to the racing garage earlier that morning. Dan’s mind whirled, considering the possibility of being home in just a few days instead of months. He tried to maintain a conversation with Holly, but he was so excited he kept jumping from one topic to the next. Even Krin was enthusiastic, tired of being on the road, tired of being dirty, and simply tired of being tired. Only Jinks remained reserved.

When they arrived back at the houseboat, Dan helped Sal stoke the fires in the various woodstoves, then Sal announced he was retiring to his room for a nap. Reggie said he was going to get a head start on preparing dinner since he’d picked up some supplies while they were at the garage.

“Grease?” Dan teased.

“Nope,” Reggie replied. “The garage gets regular deliveries by helicopter. Dad’s friends south of the border always throw in some fresh foods as a special treat. We’ll eat good tonight.”

Not wanting to disturb Sal’s nap with loud conversation, Dan and his group retreated to their stateroom. Dan was practically manic with excitement, rambling about all the things he couldn’t wait to see when he got home. Holly was always more thoughtful and focused, so she tried to remain practical and keep Dan grounded. It didn’t work. Krin fed off Dan’s energy and the two of them jabbered back and forth like bluejays.

Holly gave up on Dan and turned her attention to Jinks. “What’s up with you? You barely said a word the whole way back.”

Jinks was stretched out on his bunk, shoes off, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of got into the groove of how we were doing things. We’d established a rhythm and I’m not so excited about changing course midstream.”

Dan stared at him, genuinely shocked. “Man, the goal was to get home. What Sal’s offering will get us there faster. We stumbled onto a miracle.”

Jinks shook his head, his expression gloomy. “No, Dan, the goal is the journey. Getting home is just the end result. Sal isn’t giving us anything, he’s taking something away. He’s destroying something we’re building.”

Dan laughed, his voice quavering with shock and incredulity. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Jinks, you can’t throw that kind of stuff at me. I’m all about ‘The Way of Dan’. I’m all about immersing yourself in the journey and living the experience, but there’s a point where taking the easy road makes sense. There’s no nobility in suffering when a hand drops from the sky to lift you up. You might get extra points for resilience, but you don’t get them for being stupid.”

Jinks curled his lips and shook his head. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. No nobility in making things harder? Haven’t we covered this already? You’ve been torturing yourself ever since your wife died. You woke up to who you really are, and now you feel guilty because it took a tragedy to shake you awake. Don’t talk to me about not beating yourself up. You’re practically the master of it.”

Dan glared at Jinks. “A couple of hours ago you apologized for your amateur psychoanalysis and now here you are, doing it again. It makes me wonder if that apology was genuine or just some attempt at manipulation. It makes me wonder if you can be trusted at all, Jinks.”

Jinks sat up, his sudden movement putting everyone on edge. He swung his legs over the side of his upper bunk and Krin shrank back on the lower one. Holly was ready to draw her gun if Jinks tried something stupid. Dan didn’t flinch, comfortable in the cold resolve that today might be another day where he had to choose violence. So be it.

“You won’t have to worry about me much longer, Dan. Tomorrow you’ll be in your choo-choo train riding home first-class, but you’ll be going without me. I might get off the river, but I’m not quitting the journey because that’s where the adventure is. That’s where I’m supposed to be. I don’t take shortcuts in life. That’s for losers. Something you’d know all about.”

Dan’s frustration boiled over. “I figured you out, Jinks. You think you’re some kind of modern-day Bob Dylan or Woody Guthrie. You’re chasing this hobo fantasy around the wasteland so you can milk it for the rest of your career, singing songs, telling stories about your days on the road. And all because you’ve really got nothing to say.

“Dan!” Holly snapped. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Because it’s personal! You were right, Holly. I trusted this guy too quickly because he reminded me of Carl. That was a mistake. He’s no Carl and I’m done trusting him.”

Jinks dropped off the top bunk, and for a moment Dan thought they were about to come to blows. He shifted so he could try and block a punch if Jinks let one fly. Instead, Jinks calmly picked up his pack, slung a strap over his shoulder, and picked up his guitar case. “I think I’ll set up camp on the roof tonight. I don’t like the energy in this room.” Then, to everyone’s surprise, he turned to Krin and asked, “You coming?”

Krin looked confused. “You mean to the roof or... what?”

“Either... or both,” Jinks replied, his tone casual but loaded with implication.

“Uh, I don’t really know you that well, Jinks. We’ve only known each other for a couple of days.”

“Yeah, but I know you’re tired of being a third wheel to these two jokers. If you want to travel with someone who’s going to respect and appreciate you as a person, consider my offer.”

Krin looked confused and highly uncomfortable.

Holly was on her feet in an instant. “Krin’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t need you throwing this at her right now. You said you were going to leave, so go. If she wants to see you, she knows where to find you.”

Jinks sneered, his gaze turning cold. “She’s a grown-ass woman, and you treat her like a little girl. She doesn’t have to take orders from you and neither do I.” Jinks shot Krin one last look. “Think about what I said.”

Holly pointed toward the door, her silence speaking volumes. With a defiant toss of his head, Jinks sauntered out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Holly spun on Dan, her eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that about?”

Dan shrugged, looking as bewildered as Holly. “I’m as surprised as you are. When we were walking to Tater’s garage, Jinks pulled me aside and apologized for what he said back on the boat. He said he was out of line for digging into other people’s baggage like that, then he starts throwing it out again. The guy is a psycho.”

“That escalated so fast I didn’t see that coming.” Holly turned her gaze toward Krin. “And that thing with you! Is there something we should know? Are you and Jinks... involved?”

Krin’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Absolutely not! I have no idea where that came from. We had a few personal conversations, but they were about losing people who were close to us. It was something we were both going through. I have no idea why he thinks I’d want to leave you guys and hit the road with him.”

“You know you’re not a third wheel, right, Krin?” said Dan. “You don’t have any intention of going with him, do you?”

“Of course not, Dan. Why would I even think about going with him? He’s practically a stranger, and a crazy one at that.”

Dan gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “Good, I just wanted to make sure.”

Krin looked conflicted, wringing her hands. “I kind of felt like we made a connection, but he read way too much into it. I never gave him any reason to think it was more than friendship. I probably need to talk to him at some point.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Dan said, concern creeping into his voice.

“Let me go with you,” Holly suggested. “There’s strength in numbers.”

Krin shook her head. “Thanks, but that would probably just make it more awkward than it already is. I’m probably the only one in this room he’s not pissed off at.”

Holly’s face clouded. “Just remember, you’re under no obligation to him. You don’t owe him a thing. If he starts acting weird, just walk away. After tomorrow, you’ll never see him again, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Krin stood and wiped her palms on her thighs. “I might as well get it over with. There’s no point in dragging this out. Maybe if I smooth things over, and Dan can behave himself, we can get through the rest of the day without any drama.”

“Behave myself?” Dan asked. “What did I do?”

Holly sighed. “Sometimes drama’s unavoidable.”

Krin pressed a hand to her chest. “It makes me anxious. I can’t stand it.” She exhaled a long breath. “Wish me luck.”

As soon as the door shut behind Krin, Dan leaned back against his bunk and flashed Holly a mischievous grin. “Well, it looks like we’ve got a little time alone in a room with four real beds. Whatever shall we do?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Holly stared at him flatly, utterly unamused. She pointed at his eyebrows. “You know, I’m not sure that eyebrow thing comes across the way you think it does. Is that supposed to be sexy or something?”

Dan gave her a slow, exaggerated wink. “Some things speak for themselves, darling.”

She offered him a pitying expression. “Indeed they do, Dan. I think I’m going to pass on your very generous offer and spend my time in bed reading.”

“Your loss,” Dan said, though his tone was more playful than disappointed.

Holly smirked. “Somehow I’ll manage. Thanks for your concern.”

Dan stretched out on his bed and pulled a book from his own pack. It was Suttree by Cormac McCarthy, a novel he had read years ago and decided to revisit. He’d found a copy in Kyle Cross’s library and had carried it with him since leaving the bunker. There were few books worth their weight when undergoing long journeys on foot, but Cormac McCarthy was worth the effort.

Holly sighed. “Shit, I’ll have to dig into my meticulously organized pack to dig my book out. That’s disturbing.”

“That mean you’re reconsidering my offer?”

Dan waggled his eyebrows again, which produced a groan from Holly, so he opened his book with a sigh.

Holly shoved her arm inside her tightly stuffed pack, groping for her paperback. “I don’t get how Jinks says my pack just tipped over and everything spilled out. You see how stuffed this thing is? I’d have to shake it good to make everything come out.”

Dan flattened his book on his chest and stared at Holly overtop it. “You ever check that hidden pocket to make sure everything was in there?”

Holly forgot about her book for a moment and felt for the hidden pocket. When she located it, she unzipped the zipper and pulled out a gallon-sized plastic baggie. Inside, Holly kept her passport, identification, financial documents, a thick stack of cash, and her police badge. The plastic baggie containing Alicia’s driver’s license, jewelry, and person effects was also in there. She held the baggie up for Dan to see.

“That looks like everything.”

“Then I have no idea what he was after,” Dan said.

Holly started to replace the items in her pack but stopped to look at Alicia’s license. She stared at the driver's license for a long moment, confused.

“Something wrong?” Dan asked, sensing the change in her demeanor.

Holly didn’t answer, shuffling through Alicia’s other forms of identification, and carefully studying each of them. She handed the license over to Dan. “Take a look. Notice anything?”

Dan studied the ID, focusing on the photo and the information. He was about to say no when something clicked. “This doesn’t belong to someone named Alicia.”

“Exactly,” Holly said, her tone sharp. “That’s more than a little strange, don’t you think?”

“What about the other documents?”

“All of them match the license,” Holly said.

“That picture is the dead girl, I don’t have any doubt about that. However, I’m from the South, the land of nicknames. Nearly every obituary I see in the local paper has a nickname in parentheses that the person was better known by. Names are something you’re born with but that doesn’t mean you have to stick with them.”

Holly scowled as she took the license back. “This was a young woman, not ‘Junebug’ at the parts counter or ‘Cooter’ from the pool hall. I don’t see her using a nickname.”

Dan sighed and flipped his book back up to a reading position. “You’re not going to figure it out on your own. Either you ask Jinks about it, or you accept that you’ll never know the answer. Those are your options.”

Holly tucked the ID back into the plastic bag and replaced all the items in the hidden pocket inside her pack. “Then I’m going to ask him. I need to know.”

“Why do you need to know? We’re going home tomorrow and Jinks isn’t going with us. In the scope of everything, this might not be all that important.”

Holly gave Dan an incredulous look. “I want to know if Jinks killed that woman we buried by the tracks. What if the girl we’ve been calling Alicia was just some random stranger Jinks came across on the road? You know as well as I do that we never saw those two on that train. Sure, he had an excuse for that, but what if they weren’t on the train at all? What if we jumped off that train and stumbled into a crime scene?”

“He said she needed help. He thought she might still be alive. That she could be saved.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Really, Dan? You saw the state of her neck. Did that look like something a person recovers from?”

“Not really. I could tell she was dead from looking at her.”

“Same here,” Holly said. “She could have been dead for a while.”

Dan shook his head in disbelief. “What are the odds?”

“Of what?”

“Of us jumping off the train and into a crime scene?”

“Slim,” Holly admitted. “But not zero.”

Dan chuckled and shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t understand how your brain works. I never would’ve jumped to the conclusion that Jinks was a killer, but he set off your radar immediately.”

“That’s why I was a cop,” Holly shot back. “And that’s why you’re, well, whatever it is you are. A streetcorner philosopher or something.”

Dan grinned. “That’s close but how about we make it a ‘cornfield philosopher?’ There aren’t many streetcorners where I’m from.”

19

Krin reached the upper deck of the houseboat and found Jinks leaning over the railing, staring off at the river, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. She approached him, crossed her arms, and let out a long sigh.

“You okay?” she asked.

Jinks responded without taking his cigarette out of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Listen, I’m not exactly sure what happened in there, but I don’t feel right about it. I’m not sure if you have some misconception about our relationship or some misunderstanding about my relationship with Dan and Holly. I’ve known those guys for seven or eight months now. We’ve been through a lot together. There’s no way I’d abandon them and go off with someone I just met.”

“Great relationships have been forged on less,” Jinks said. “They all start somewhere. You lost someone important to you and so did I. You ever think Alicia and Bird might have died just so you and I could meet each other?”

Krin was appalled at the idea. She shook her head violently. “No, Jinks, I never thought that. I never would think that.”

Jinks straightened, removed his cigarette from his mouth, and tapped an ash over the railing. “I thought about it. You and I both need to heal that part of ourselves and maybe the best way for us to do that is with each other?”

Krin smirked. “You sound like an old friend of mine who said the best way to get over one man was to get under another. I never bought into that philosophy.”

“That’s not what I suggested.”

Krin blew out a breath, struggling to make sense of what she was hearing. She was beginning to doubt herself. Had she led him on somehow? “Did I ever give you any indication that I was interested in a relationship with you? I’m replaying everything in my head and I’m not seeing it. If I did, I apologize because there’s obviously been some kind of misunderstanding. That was never my intention.”

Jinks hitched one shoulder. “I thought I was picking up on something between us. I guess I could’ve been mistaken. Maybe I just felt it because I wanted something to happen. Maybe it was my imagination. Obviously I’ve not been in the best headspace over the last few days.”

Krin shook her head, grabbed Jinks by the bicep, and gave him a gentle shake. “Dude, you have to heal first. I have to heal first. You just lost Alicia. You’re grieving and not even thinking straight. I was so messed up when Bird died. I was a wreck. Dude, I can’t even begin to tell you what that was like.”

“I know what you’re saying is true, but this isn’t like the old days when you could spend months or years messaging each other. We don’t have that luxury. You have to act immediately these days or any opportunity might be lost forever. That’s how it was with me and Alicia. You have to speak now or forever hold your peace, and I’m speaking.” He looked expectantly at Krin.

Realizing that Jinks wasn’t hearing a thing she said, Krin’s expression changed from frustration to pity. “I’m really sorry you worked yourself up like this, but I don’t have the same feelings for you that you apparently have for me. To be honest, I’m not even sure that you’re feeling those feelings. I was in drug rehab years ago and they told us not to form relationships in recovery. You have to focus on yourself to heal. You can’t substitute one addiction for another.”

Jinks shoved back from the railing, leaned over, and grabbed his pack. He slung it onto his back, then draped his stubby shotgun around his neck. He picked up his guitar case and faced off with Krin. “I’m going to take a walk.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “With all your stuff? Are you coming back?”

Jinks cocked his head to the side, considering his answer. “I don’t really know. I might walk back when I clear my head, or I might just keep walking until I decide to stop. I’ll decide when I decide. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Krin wiped her hands on thighs. “I don’t want it to end this way. You should stick it out with us and take the ride to Tennessee. There’s no use doing anything rash.”

Jinks smile was condescending and hollow. “If you want me to go with you, walk with me and give it your best shot. Build a compelling case and I’ll turn around and come back.”

Holly’s warning played through Krin’s head. Holly had urged her to be careful and not put herself in a vulnerable situation with Jinks. “I don’t know about leaving the boat. I probably shouldn’t go anywhere without saying something to Holly and Dan.”

“Holly and Dan! Holly and Dan!” Jinks mocked. “It’s exactly like I said inside. You can’t do anything without Mommy and Daddy’s approval. You have a good life, Krin.”

Jinks worked his way down to the main deck, strode across the gangplank to the dock, and marched away without even looking back.

Before she could stop herself, Krin called out to him. “Wait. I guess I could walk with you for a while.”

Jinks kept walking with that long, loose gait of his.

Once she was on the dock, Krin sprinted to catch up with him. Not expecting to go on a walk, she’d just pulled her boots on without lacing them up. They flopped on her feet as she ran. “Which way are you going?”

Jinks pointed down the trail with his guitar case. “I only know one road in these parts and that’s the one we took earlier today. I reckon I’ll go to town and start there.”

“Sounds like your mind is made up then.”

“Unless you succeed in changing it.”

Jinks picked up the pace, forcing Krin to take two steps for his every one. She had a flash of doubt, questioning why she was even trying to talk this stranger out of something he appeared bound and determined to do. Yet she couldn’t stop herself. She was the kind of person who stopped to move turtles out of the road even when it meant she might get hit by a car. She carried spiders outside instead of killing them, not knowing or caring if they were venomous or not. She spoke to bees and butterflies. How many times had she emptied her pockets for the homeless, even when she figured they might be spending the money on booze or drugs? She was ruled by her heart and it always managed to shout down those warnings that came from her head.

When Bird was alive, he teased that Krin didn’t play devil’s advocate with herself, but insisted on playing “angel’s advocate,” even when it wasn’t merited. Although she’d laughed him off at the time, the phrase came back to her as she hurried to keep up with Jinks. Had Bird been right all along? Was she blinded by positivity? Was it Bird’s voice in her head trying to warn her to turn around and head back to the boat?

They passed one of Sal’s security detail. Krin offered a nervous smile and a little wave. Jinks showed no sign of slowing as he left Sal’s property and started up the debris-covered road toward the edge of the city.

Deciding his pace was impossible to maintain, Krin reached out and put a hand on Jinks’ shoulder. “Hey! Can you slow down for a second!”

In a blur of movement, Jinks spun and backhanded Krin. She staggered, then fell onto the asphalt, more shocked than injured. Krin put a hand to her cheek and stared at Jinks in surprise. It had happened so quickly, and utterly without warning.

“What the hell, dude!”

Once the shock of being knocked on her ass evaporated, Krin sprang up and jabbed a finger at Jinks. “A year ago, I’d have laid there and cried if some asshole hit me. I’ve been through too much to sit take that shit now. You will not hit me again.”

There was fire in her eyes and rage in her voice, but her vitriol didn’t have the impact she anticipated. Jinks set his guitar on the pavement, took three steps, and grabbed Krin by the collar of her jacket. He twisted the fabric in an iron grip, his knuckles pressing against Krin’s throat, cutting off her air, cutting off the blood supply to her brain. Krin fought the urge to hyperventilate, to panic and begin thrashing.

Jinks hauled her close until their faces were only inches apart. “Where did that fire inside you come from? I haven’t seen that before.”

Krin looked away. “People shouldn’t go around hitting each other. Especially if they’re stronger than the other person.”

Jinks grinned, his teeth dirty and yellow, his breath like vinegar. “Alicia thought the same thing.” He pulled Krin closer. “Just before I snapped her neck.”

Krin hadn’t an inkling that Jinks might have done such a thing, but she could tell from the rage seething deep within his eyes that he wasn’t lying to her. He’d done exactly what he said he’d done. He’d killed that girlfriend he was so despondent over. Or was she even his girlfriend at all?

Krin screamed and brought her knee up into Jinks’ groin, just like they’d taught in the women’s safety class she’d taken years ago. Though Jinks flinched and blew out a hard, rancid breath into Krin’s face, he didn’t release her. Counter to her instincts, she remembered the instructor’s warning to continue the fury of the attack until escape was possible. She threw her arms around Jinks’ neck and brought her knee up again and again.

By the second knee strike, Jinks’ grip on Krin’s collar had loosened. By the third, he was actively attempting to shove her away from him. Krin’s arms were locked around his neck with her hands clasped together, but she was no match for his pain-driven strength. Jinks screamed and shoved with all his might. Krin’s grip broke and she went flying backwards.

Jinks was on his feet, holding his groin with both hands. Krin’s mind raced, trying to determine if Jinks was injured enough that she could make a run for it. Somehow, she didn’t think so. She was terrified that he’d be on her as soon as she attempted to run away. The next time she might not be so lucky. She might not be in a position where she could fight back. In the space of less than a second, she ran through all those thoughts and arrived at a scenario where Jinks had her neck locked in his forearms, applying leverage until it snapped like Alicia’s. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Krin screamed like a wild animal and launched herself onto Jinks. He tried to turn away and she jumped onto his back, causing him to stumble and stagger sideways. She wrapped her hands around Jinks’ face, curled her fingers into claws, and raked at his eyes. She couldn’t tell whether she was getting eyes, eyelids, or cheeks, but her fingers found purchase on something. There was a dampness, and she couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears.

Now Jinks was the one screaming. He leaned forward like he was going to throw Krin over his shoulder in a judo move, but she was done with him. She shoved off his back and ran like she’d never run before without looking back. She didn’t even listen for the sound of his boots on pavement.

20

From her bunk, Holly sat worrying about Krin, not feeling right about her speaking with Jinks alone. When she could no longer sit still, she paced back and forth until Dan groaned.

“If you’re that worried, go check on her,” he said.

Holly didn’t have to be told twice. She left their stateroom, hurried through the long houseboat, and pulled on her boots. She stepped out onto the deck, shivered against the damp cold, then climbed the stairs to the upper deck. She was surprised and somewhat concerned to find it empty. She kept her worry in check as best she could and walked around the perimeter of the upper deck, glancing over the railing to see if she could spot Jinks or Krin anywhere on the lower deck of the massive houseboat. She didn’t, so she climbed back down and went inside. Reggie was in the galley working on the evening meal.

“Have you seen Krin and Jinks?” she asked.

Reggie looked up from a chopping block littered with sliced carrots and potatoes. “They were on the upper deck earlier. I think they left to take a walk. I saw them leave the boat and head down to the dock.”

Holly’s face clouded. Krin should have known better than to leave the boat with Jinks, but she was painfully naïve sometimes. If she thought a walk would make Jinks feel better, she’d have gone with him for certain. She couldn’t stand seeing anyone feel bad. She also didn’t have the suspicions about Jinks that Holly and Dan held. They hadn’t clued to her in because she was blinded with hippie shit and always wanted to assume the best about people.

Noticing Holly’s lingering expression, Reggie asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I just needed to talk to Krin. I didn’t know she was leaving the boat.”

Reggie seemed to sense that that Holly’s concern was something more. “I could radio the security detail and ask if they’ve seen them.”

“You have radios?”

Reggie smiled. “Communication was high on our list when we started taking deliveries from the cartel. We have walkie-talkies and a few SAT phones. The walkie-talkies are how we keep in touch with each other locally. The SAT phones are for placing orders with our cartel connection. We also use them to keep in touch with our drivers when they’re out on the road. They can call in for help if they break down or need assistance.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind asking the guards I’d appreciate it.”

Reggie dried his hands on a dishtowel. “No problem.” He tossed the dishtowel on the counter and yanked his radio from the pocket of a jacket draped across the back of a nearby chair. “TJ? You copy?”

After a moment, the radio chirped and the guard replied. “Go for TJ.”

“Our guests are on the lookout for a couple of their own. The girl named Krin might have wandered off with that hippie guitar player. Have you seen them?”

“Uh, yeah. They walked by me about ten minutes ago. The dude was carrying all his shit with him and he kind of had an attitude. They were having a heated conversation, like she was trying to talk him out of leaving.”

“Thanks, TJ. Reggie out.” Reggie put the radio down on the counter and looked at Holly. “There’s your answer.”

Holly stared out the window toward the shore, deep in thought.

“You know where she is now, yet you don’t look relieved,” Reggie said. “Am I correct in sensing that there is more to this story?”

“We just met Jinks a couple of days ago and we don’t know a lot about him. Your dad pegged him immediately as a bad apple and I’m starting to have doubts of my own. I’m concerned about Krin going off with him.”

Reggie shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Then let’s go find them. Get your shit.”

Holly hurried back toward their stateroom and burst through the door, startling Dan.

“What the hell’s going on? You scared me to death.”

Holly strapped on her gun belt and retrieved her rifle. “Jinks and Krin weren’t on the roof. A guard said he saw them leaving. I don’t feel right about this. Reggie and I are going after them.”

Dan sprang out of the bed and pulled on his gear. “Not without me you’re not.” He was ready in less than a minute and the two of them headed back through the boat.

Reggie was already waiting on them by the door with a rifle. “Ready?”

Holly nodded and they hurried out onto the deck. One at a time, they crossed over to the dock and headed for the walkway at the end. Reggie was on his radio, getting directions from the guard who’d seen Krin and Jinks leaving. When he got a response, he pointed toward the trail they’d used earlier to visit the racing garage and set off at a jog. Holly, then Dan, fell in behind him.

“I know my dad didn’t trust that guy,” Reggie huffed out as they ran. “He told me that already. Said to keep an eye on him.”

Dan remained silent. Taking people at face value had come back to bite him again, just as it had with Kyle Cross. He really needed to become a better judge of people. The problem went back to his enjoyment at having friends he could laugh at. He understood now he needed more friends he could laugh with because they were actually funny. Friends you laughed at were often just crazy and therein lay the problem.

Dan caught movement to his left and two of Sal’s bodyguards fell in alongside them.

“We don’t want to kill him,” Holly instructed. “We just want to make sure Krin is okay. The guy apparently has some misunderstanding about their relationship.”

“Kind of a stalker vibe,” Dan clarified.

“Not surprised,” Reggie huffed. “Anybody who cares more about their guitar than their weapons is shady in my book.”

The guard named TJ said, “At least it’s not a banjo. If it had been, I’d have drowned the prick the minute I saw him.”

Dan couldn’t let the comment pass. “You once have an unfortunate canoe trip with a banjo soundtrack?”

TJ’s expression made clear he didn’t find the comment nearly as funny as Dan did. Dan looked over to see if Holly was smiling, but she wore a grimace. Apparently, she wasn’t amused.

Dan sighed. “Apparently that one whooshed over everyone’s heads, huh?”

They turned onto the road leading from Sal’s estate. No sooner were they pounding pavement than there was a scream ahead of them. Dan’s view of the road was blocked since he was at the tail of the line. He veered off to the side and spotted Krin sprinting toward them with her arms flailing wildly in the air.

“Krin!” Holly shrieked, running toward the panicked woman.

Within seconds, Krin ran into Holly’s open arms. She hadn’t been sobbing until she saw Holly, but now she was babbling hysterically. Although Holly opened her arms to receive Krin, she never took her eyes off the road behind her, watching to see that Jinks wasn’t in pursuit. He had to be responsible for whatever Krin was so upset about.

Both Reggie and the bodyguard stopped just beyond Krin, rifles up, scanning the terrain ahead of them.

“Watch our flanks, Dan!” the bodyguard shouted.

Dan shouldered his rifle. There were woods on both sides of the road and the forest floor was littered with leaves. Even damp, one couldn’t plow through them silently. If Jinks was out there, the terrain would give him away.

“Do we need to find this guy?” Reggie asked. “Should we go after him?”

Holly took Krin by the shoulders, peeled her off, and stared into her tear-soaked eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Krin crushed her fists together and held them, shaking, in front of her. “No…he just scared me. Holly, he said he killed the woman we thought was his girlfriend. Alicia. He told me he broke her neck.”

“Shit,” Dan muttered. “Guess that answers that.”

Holly nodded. “I know, Krin. I was afraid of that. What happened?”

Krin sucked in a deep breath and with a quavering voice told Holly everything that had transpired since she met Jinks on the upper deck of the houseboat.

When Krin was finished, Holly shook her head at Reggie, “We don’t need to go after him. Let him go.”

“He killed that woman,” Krin argued. “He should pay.”

“I’m a firm believer in old-fashioned justice, Krin,” Dan said. “But he could be sitting out there waiting to ambush us. It’s not worth risking someone’s life to kill that trash. If we ever cross paths again, we can deal with him then.”

“Agreed,” said TJ. “If he expects us to chase him, he might set a trap. We don’t want to walk into it.”

Holly met Krin’s eyes. “Hopefully we’ll be out of here tomorrow and heading home. Soon this will be nothing but a bad memory.”

Krin looked at the ground. “Just what I need, one more bad memory. As if I don’t have enough of those already.”

Dan laid a comforting hand on Krin’s back. “We all have them, Krin. There’s more than enough to go around.”

21

“I told you there was something off about the freakin’ guy,” Sal said.

Dan, Holly, and Sal were sitting around one of the woodstoves sipping Buffalo Trace and discussing the incident with Jinks. Too wound up to sit still, Krin had downed her tumbler of bourbon like it was a shooter and asked Reggie if she could help him with dinner. She needed something to keep her busy and distract her from thought of Jinks. Fluffy, perhaps appreciative of Dan’s rescue, was stretched across his lap, snoring gently.

“It could have gone a lot worse,” Holly said. “He could have killed Krin. We could have gotten into a shootout with the guy. All things considered, it probably turned out the best possible way.”

Dan gave a bitter shake of his head. “The best possible way would have been with Jinks dead. You leave someone like that alive and they just become someone else’s problem.”

“Two days ago he was your best buddy,” Holly pointed out.

Dan shrugged. “For about ten minutes, then he turned into an asshole.”

“Now he’s more than an asshole, he’s a confessed murderer,” Sal said. “I’m with you, Dan. That’s not someone I want running around my neighborhood.”

Dan caught a flash of a smirk on Holly’s face. “What’s that about?”

“I don’t think it’s a big leap to assume that each of us here have killed people, right?”

Dan and Sal looked at each other, then back at Holly.

“You know I have,” said Dan. “You’ve been there when it happened. And God love you, you even helped dig the hole when that’s what had to be done.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Sal said. “I might have pulled a few plugs over the years. The code of conduct was a little different in my line of work. These days, I don’t do much trigger work myself, but I wouldn’t hesitate to.” He lifted the front of his shirt to reveal a holstered revolver riding inside his waistband.

Holly drained her tumbler of bourbon, then placed the empty glass on the coffee table. “So, acknowledging that we’ve all taken lives, why should Jinks be killed when we’re still running around loose?”

“The guy was a prick,” Sal shot back, as if the answer was obvious.

“And a psycho,” Dan added. “I’ve always killed because that’s what had to be done. Who knows what kind of twisted motivation made Jinks kill Alicia. I highly doubt it was self-defense. What’s this all about?”

“I’m not defending him,” Holly explained. “It’s just that we live in a time where morality gets more complicated every day. I guess I’m just thinking out loud.”

“Rest assured I’m neither a prick nor a psycho.” Dan pointed to the dog in his lap as if therein lay the proof to his assertion. “Dogs are an excellent judge of character.”

“I was only teasing. My point is that one man’s normal is another man’s psycho.” Holly pointed at Fluffy. “And no offense to you or the dog, but her loyalty can be bought with a treat. Ask anyone who delivers packages for a living.”

Sal waved his glass in the air. “What’s your point here, darling? I told you Jinks was bad from the moment I met him. We sat right here and had that conversation. Now it sounds like you’re defending the guy.”

“I’m not defending him. My point is if we kill everyone who meets the standard you two are throwing out—pricks and psychos—there aren’t going to be many people left in our country.”

“There are fewer every day,” Dan said, as if that justified his feelings.

“All the more reason we should spare as many as we can,” Holly said. “Someone has to be around to help rebuild the country.”

Dan stroked Fluffy’s back. “Eh, there were too many people to begin with. We needed to thin out a few. But if it makes you feel better, how about you add your ‘death justification index’ to the Way of Holly? I sure as hell ain’t going to make room in the Way of Dan for crazy talk like that. I prefer some wiggle room in my morality.”

Sal scratched his chin. “Maybe I need a Way of Sal. I never really thought about it before.”

“Oh, I’m sure you already have a Way of Sal,” Holly said. “You just haven’t given it a name.”

“Well, I’m going to now,” Sal said. “If I say something that fits, remind me so I can add it.”

Dan laughed. “I’m on it, Sal. I have a good ear for recognizing profound philosophical statements.”

“You have a good ear for bullshit,” Holly said. “As well as a good mouth for it.”

Krin flitted out from the galley. “Dinner is almost ready and it looks amazing.”

“Smells amazing,” Dan said.

Everyone got up except for Dan. He stared down at the content dog napping in his lap.

“You might have to request delivery,” Holly said.

“Or miss out.” Sal shrugged. “You let Fluffy dictate your schedule and you’ll do nothing but hold her all day and night.”

Dan reluctantly transferred the dog to Sal. She remained limp but made her displeasure evident through a protracted groan. Sal gently rested her in a dog bed by the woodstove. Dan, Sal, and Holly washed their hands, got plates from the cabinet, and took seats at the long dining table.

“I can’t thank you two enough for your hospitality,” Dan said. “This food is amazing and the company hasn’t been half bad.”

Sal beamed. “Why thank you.”

“I was talking about Fluffy,” Dan said.

Holly rolled her eyes.

Sal cackled. “You had me for a minute! I was about to call you a freakin’ asshole.”

“And you’d be right,” Holly said.

22

The laughter taking place at the dining table wasn’t audible from outside the boat, but the faces of the laughing and smiling people were visible. Jinks knew beyond all certainty they were laughing at him. They were laughing at him for being so naïve as to think he and Krin had formed some kind of bond. They were laughing at him for stomping off like a spoiled baby. Above all, they were laughing at him for allowing a girl to get the better of him.

Even without hearing it, he was familiar with the sound of that laughter. He’d known it all his life. It was the cackling of his mother as she punished him, then laughed at his discomfort. It was the giggling of his sisters as they joined in with his mother to humiliate him. Sometimes it was by their own volition, while other times it was because his sisters knew they’d face their own equally sadistic punishments if they didn’t go along with their mother’s “games.” It wasn’t simply that she was a harsh disciplinarian. She was seriously mentally ill, sadistic, and never should have been allowed to keep the children born to her.

Jinks ran away when he was fifteen years old, hitchhiking across the country. He didn’t care where he ended up as long as it was far from his hometown in Oklahoma. He survived through whatever means available to him. He picked apples in one part of the country and detasselled corn in another. He cut tobacco in North Carolina and castrated piglets with a razor blade at a Georgia hog farm. With another boy of about his age, he killed eight thousand chickens at a North Carolina poultry plant after they’d been infected with some kind of avian influenza. The first day, the work had been a novelty and halfway entertaining. By the sixth day they were incinerating them alive simply to be done with the work.

In his head, Jinks imagined that he would one day return to his hometown and be the one to extinguish his mother like she was the queen of those infected chickens. Fate, however, robbed him of that opportunity. By the time he had the money to work his way back home to Oklahoma, he found the house he’d grown up in occupied by another family. They told him the previous occupant had died and those children who’d remained there had moved in with an older sister across town.

Despite it being a small town, it had taken Jinks nearly an hour to walk to his sister’s house. He knocked on the door and waited while footsteps moved across the floor. When the door swung open, it was his oldest sister, Amelia, who stood there in front of him. Her expression went from surprise to amusement, and then to rage. Before Jinks even knew what was happening, she drew back her fist and punched him in the eye.

Jinks staggered backward, more out of shock than pain. His foot slipped from the edge of the porch and he fell, dropping two feet to the ground and landing on his back. His head bounced off the hard soil hidden beneath the overgrown grass.

Amelia dropped off the edge of the porch and straddled Jinks’ chest. She punched him again, then jammed her hand against his throat and snarled, “You have a lot of damn nerve showing up here. Our mother is dead and it was you who killed her. You ran off and drove her mad with worry. She mourned your sorry ass day and night.”

Jinks struggled to speak, not getting enough air. Saliva ran from the corners of his mouth, down his cheeks, around his neck. He managed to choke out, “Then why did she treat me like shit!”

Amelia looked astonished. She leaned back and slapped Jinks hard across the face. “She didn’t treat you like shit! You were just too much of a sissy. You were soft and selfish and that’s why you ran away.”

Jinks was stunned. Those could have been his mother’s words. Not only did Amelia look like his mother, she’d also inherited some of her darkness. Jinks heard giggling on the porch and looked up to see the rest of his sisters standing there. Including Amelia, there were six of them in total. Six nearly identical girls, all carbon copies of his mother in different sized packaging.

Amelia drew her hand back to slap Jinks again and he recalled that he was not that little boy who cowered in the corner anymore. Two years of hard labor in fields, factories, and warehouses had hardened him. He’d grown up and he’d grown stronger. Meaner. He shifted his body weight and threw Amelia off him. The action lit a fire under her and she fought him like an angry cat, scratching with hands and feet, biting and hissing. Desperate to curb the frenzied attack, Jinks lashed out and punched Amelia in the face.

Amelia cried out in pain and the sound triggered her siblings on the porch. It was like the cries of a threatened bird driving the rest of the flock to sound the alarm. All the girls, from the largest to the smallest, erupted in a chorus of screams and howls. Afraid their noise would bring a neighbor to the window, Jinks shot to his feet, tore through the backyard, and disappeared into the woods. He watched from the treeline as his younger siblings helped the sobbing Amelia to her feet and led her into the house.

Two things about the experience burned in Jinks’ stomach like a three-day hunger. For one, Amelia hadn’t hesitated to punch him in the face, attack him, and jump on him when he was down. In fact, she’d been elated at the opportunity to hand out a beating for both her satisfaction and in memory of their departed mother. Yet when Jinks dared fight back, it had only taken one punch for Amelia to crumble and begin sobbing pitifully. She had some nerve after what she’d helped do to him over the years.

The other thing that bothered Jinks profoundly was the reaction of his younger siblings. How many times had they stood there and watched him sobbing or in distress at his mother’s hand? Unlike the concern they’d shown for Amelia, their expressions had revealed barely concealed smirks when it had been his suffering they bore witness to.

Jinks had hoped his reunion with his sisters would be different. He’d hoped it had been his mother’s overbearing and monstrous presence that had been responsible for the things that had happened to him. He’d dreamed that he and his sisters would join hands and dance in the yard, singing that the wicked witch was dead. Now he understood that the poison ran too deep. He couldn’t be sure if his sisters had been poisoned by his mother’s actions or if it came as a result of some vile and misshapen gene that guided their behavior. Either way, he understood now that there was no fixing it.

Not in the conventional sense.

He thought perhaps there might be the opportunity to purge his demons and put the whole miserable experience behind him. He imagined their smirking faces, laughing and enjoying the life he’d never had. In his absence, they had slept in soft beds while he slept on the ground, in barns, or on hard floors. They had hot meals when he had to scavenge, scrounge, or outright beg for even a few bites of something to eat. They had nice clothes and shoes while he wore ill-fitting discards and items he stole from clotheslines. He couldn’t recall that he’d ever had a pair of shoes that fit correctly or didn’t have holes worn through the soles.

Jinks crouched there in those bushes all day, staring at the small, white frame house with its aluminum siding and black shingle roof. For hours he sat there watching as Amelia calmed from her scuffle with him and fixed dinner for the rest of the girls. Through the sliding glass door, he saw them gather at the table to eat fried chicken legs, mashed potatoes, peas, and rolls. He could smell the food through the open windows and hear Adam-12 reruns playing on the television while they ate.

Jinks gave them time to eat, his anger seething like the hunger in his belly. When darkness began to fall, Amelia locked the doors and sent the children to bathe before bed. The TV played re-runs, the flickering light of the cathode ray tube occasionally broken by the shadow of someone passing through the living room to visit the kitchen. Jinks waited there until twilight, bedded down like a once-injured predator with a long-running hatred of man.

It was late when all the lights were extinguished, and enough time had passed that Jinks thought his sisters were likely asleep. By this point, the dew had fallen, and the night insects were chanting like a cult from some 1970s horror movie. Only then did Jinks creep from his hiding spot and return to the porch Amelia had shoved him off of earlier. He took a metal chair, turned it around, and wedged it beneath the handle of the sturdy aluminum storm door.

He went to the back of the house next and cut loose a section of the clothesline, tying one end of it to the handle of the sliding glass door. He tied the other end of the rope to an outside water spigot, pulling it tight enough that the door couldn’t be opened. The only windows in the house big enough for anyone to climb from were those in the bedrooms and Jinks was determined to make that a highly unappealing prospect.

He went to the old shed out back and twisted the wooden latch that allowed the door to swing open. He closed the door behind him and struck a match so he could search the space. He soon found what he was looking for—a metal gas can with a wire bail and a wooden handle. Jinks blew out the match and ground it beneath his foot. He groped around until he found the gas can again, shook it, and was pleased at the sloshing he heard inside. There should be enough to do what needed done.

Jinks carried the gas can back to the house and headed toward the meter box. Working mostly by feel, he located the phone line strapped to the weather-head with metal zip ties, then followed it to where it disappeared into the house. He used his pocketknife to cut it so there would be no way for them to call for help.

Since his eyes were now more accustomed to the dark, Jinks walked around the entire house and took stock of what he found. All the bedroom windows were closed, but both the bathroom and kitchen windows had been left up. That was just the opportunity he’d been hoping for. Jinks dumped part of the can of gas through the kitchen window, hearing it run off the countertop, and splash onto the kitchen floor. He cut the screen, tossed in a match, and smiled at the satisfying whoompf.

Seconds later, a smoke detector went off and cries of panic rose from the house. Less than a minute after the alarm sounded, Jinks heard fists pounding on the metal storm door at the front of the house. The chair he’d wedged against it didn’t yield. Jinks ran around to the door and stood in front of it. The light coming from inside illuminated his grinning face.

“You don’t look so smug now!” Jinks said.

Amelia backed into the house and Jinks knew she was checking the sliding glass door off the living room. She’d find no escape there either since he’d tied that door shut with the clothesline. She was back at the front door in a minute but before Jinks could gloat, he saw that she’d returned with a heavy ceramic ashtray. She drew back and threw it against the storm door with all her might. Jinks tried to sidestep it, but he’d realized her intentions too late. Shards of safety glass sprayed his clothing and rained down on the front porch. Amelia reached through the opening, trying to dislodge the chair wedged against the door.

Jink lashed out at her, swatting at her arm. The blow drove the inside of her forearm down onto the shards of glass remaining in the frame. Amelia screamed and yanked her arm back inside, the glass shaving away flesh like cheese on a grater.

“You bastard!” she hissed.

Jinks swung into the doorway and splashed gas through the opening, saturating the olive-green shag carpet inside. As some of the gas hit Amelia, she stumbled backward and fell. The other girls were on her like sparrows on a tree, pulling her away from whatever Jinks was about to do. They found out soon enough as he lit a match and dropped it inside. The flare was instant, black smoke roiling through the house after the toxic carpet burst into flames.

Jinks circled the house, knocking out one window at a time with the nozzle of the metal can. He splashed gas through each jagged opening, then tossed in another match. In less than five minutes, there was nowhere for the girls to escape the house. Jinks backed away into the woods, taking the gas can with him. The screams and acrid smell of burning carpet followed him. He heard another scream in the distance and this one didn’t come from his sisters’ house, but from a neighbor’s. Jinks ran through the woods, only tossing the can away when he was a half mile from the house. He kept running until he reached the road out of town. He caught a ride from a lonely man in a Kenworth hauling cattle gates to a farm in North Texas.

“You smell like gas, boy,” the driver said. “You’re making my eyes burn.”

“I been burning trash.”

The man appeared satisfied at that. “Best keep your window down. Don’t need you bursting into flames when I light a damn cigarette.”

They had both laughed at that.

Jinks wasn’t laughing now as he stared through the window of the houseboat. He was burning from that same humiliation he had felt each time he’d been laughed at in his life. All of it traced back to the one vile woman who’d started it all. Every life he’d taken over the years had been an attempt to take hers. Every one had been because someone laughed at him like she had or made him feel worthless in the same way.

A part of Jinks wanted to storm the boat and kill them all, but there was no way he could do that. Sal had that security team and those guys knew what they were doing. They were killers. Jinks recognized that in them, one killer to another. As soon as he fired one shot at that boat, the security team would come rushing. They’d sound the alarm and whatever backup they had would join the fight. It would be him alone against a dozen or more men.

Jinks didn’t like those odds. He had not survived this long by putting himself in situations where he knew he’d lose and that was what he’d be doing if he rushed headlong into things. He might get one of them, but they’d most certainly get him too. He only had a few options if he was determined to kill his former traveling companions and stealth was one of them. He could slip onto the boat and take out his enemies one at a time, hoping they weren’t able to sound the alarm. Yet how could he do that when Dan, Holly, and Krin all slept in one room?

Maybe there was another option. Perhaps there was a way he could prevent the security guards from entering the fight at all. If they couldn’t board the boat, they wouldn’t be a threat. Jinks cast a glance around to make sure there was no one about and didn’t see a soul. Perfect.

He removed his pack and set his guitar case down beside it. He slipped the Bowie knife from its sheath and cut loose one of the thick mooring lines that held the houseboat to the dock. If what Sal had told them was correct, the lumbering vessel would be helpless on the river. They might have a small degree of steering but not nearly enough to actually control the boat. It would spin and bounce off the shore, the passengers utterly helpless to save themselves. More importantly, the security team would not be able to board the vessel and save them.

Jinks worked his way across the dock, chopping loose all the mooring lines. Before the current took hold of the hulking houseboat, Jinks calmly walked across the gangplank and slipped into a shadowy recess. He couldn’t feel the houseboat moving yet, but there was a faint grating sound coming from the dock as the gangplank was dragged toward the edge. A few seconds later, there was a splash when it dropped into the water.

Jinks released the safety on his stubby shotgun. He remained in the shadows, breathing calmly as the boat gently picked up momentum, drawn by the current. He heard a shout from inside the main cabin. Someone had either felt the boat moving or noticed the shifting silhouette outside the large windows. Jinks heard the pounding of footsteps as someone sprinted across the cabin toward the door that led out onto the deck. The door squeaked when someone threw it open and rushed outside to see what was going on.

Stepping from the shadows, Jinks leveled the shotgun on the figure silhouetted against the railing. He pulled the trigger, the shotgun bucked in his hand, and the short weapon sent a flare of burning powder nearly two feet beyond the end of the barrel. There was a scream and a splash, then Jinks’ victim tumbled over the railing into the muddy water.

23

It was Sal who first sensed the movement of the houseboat. Dan and his people were new to life on the water, but Sal had spent half a year on the craft and was deeply attuned to its nuances. He understood the ebbs and flows of the water. He was accustomed to the way the boat sometimes rocked against its moorings or nudged the dock if a line wasn’t snug. Sal had also spent enough time on the river that he understood when the boat had strayed outside that normal range of movement.

He was in his recliner, a tumbler of bourbon nearly to his lips when he froze, eyes wide. “Jesus, I think we’re floating!”

It was on the tip of Dan’s tongue to state the obvious and point out that they were on a boat so they were most certainly floating. However, there was something in Sal’s expression and tone of voice that made clear this was a serious matter.

Reggie was sitting at the table with a cold Corona in his hand. He hopped up and rushed to one of the large windows looking out toward the dock. None of the lights on the dock, the grounds, or the house were illuminated due to the EMP, but there was enough ambient moonlight that the dark shapes of trees and the main house were visible through the window. “We are moving! The lines must have come loose.”

Reggie ran for the galley door. Sal set his glass on the table, simultaneously moving his recliner to an upright position. He lowered Fluffy gently to the floor and struggled to get out of the comfortable chair. Krin snatched up the Maltese and wrapped her up in her arms, as much for her own comfort as the dog’s. Dan and Holly were already at one of the large plate glass windows, staring out into the dark. They were trying to confirm what Reggie had seen while at the same time desperately hoping it wasn’t true.

Reggie threw open the door and rushed outside, pulling on his coat as he went. He wasn’t outside for more than a second before a shotgun boomed. Holly flinched and spun in the direction of the gunshot, drawing her sidearm. Krin screamed and clutched the terrified dog in her arms. Sal was stunned for a moment, still fighting to get out of the chair, but the reality of the situation hit him and he screamed too.

“Reggie!”

Holly rushed toward the door Reggie had just exited, her handgun pressed out ahead of her. Dan grabbed their rifles from where they leaned against the wall. He chambered a round, slung, and shouldered his.

“You got me?” Holly barked.

“Yeah!” Dan wielded his rifle with a single hand while he handed Holly’s to her.

Holly holstered her handgun and transitioned to her rifle, snapping the charging handle back to chamber a round. She pressed the pad switch with her trigger finger and activated the weapon light. It was yet one more of those advantages she and Dan had courtesy of Kyle Cross’ bunker.

“Stay behind me, Dan!” She flattened herself against the wall alongside the door and gestured at Dan to fall in beside her. Sal was ranting his son’s name, sobbing and cursing. He yanked his rifle from a rack on the wall and headed toward the door, awkwardly chambering a round.

“Stay back, Sal!” Holly shouted. “We got this.”

Blind with grief and rage, Sal ignored her, continuing to head in their direction.

Holly wanted to secure the deck before Sal rushed headlong out the door and got himself killed. She cursed and opened the latch, shoving the door outward. The action didn’t provoke any gunfire, which was good since Sal was making no effort to take cover. Falling back on her role as a protector, Holly stepped into Sal’s path, not wanting him to rush blindly into a situation that might get him killed. Her finger on the trigger, she directed her weapon light through the door but didn’t spot anything. She stepped out, checked her angles, and didn’t see anything amiss. She also didn’t see Reggie.

Even after all this time, Dan wasn’t the best at covering Holly in these situations, but he tried. He’d gone from stumbling hillbilly with a gun to being an awkward hillbilly who was halfway aware of what he should be doing in the situation. It was his weapon light that caught the blood on the deck.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Sal demanded, pushing past him. “What is it?”

Dan pointed to the deck. “Blood.”

“Reggie!” Sal yelled, his voice imploring, desperate. He rushed toward the railing. “Give me some light!”

Dan handed over the pocket-sized flashlight Holly made him carry. Both he and Holly were trying to locate the shooter and figure out what happened. “Could someone have fired from the dock?” he asked.

Before anyone answered, Sal said, “Somebody grab a line and jump in. We need to tie this damn thing off before we get sucked out into the river.”

They were indeed picking up speed and had moved too far away from the dock to tie off to it again. There were trees along the shoreline of the inlet that would hold if they could get to them in time. Dan was headed for the bow, ready to look for the mooring line, when there was another blast from the shotgun.

BOOM!

There was a scream, and the sound of glass shattering came through the open cabin door. Dan rushed back inside and spotted Krin sobbing and cradling Fluffy. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, but she screamed again, pointing toward the shot-out window. Dan spun in that direction and found someone trying to step through the jagged opening left by the shotgun blast. For a moment he hesitated, uncertain if it might be Holly for some reason. He’d lost track of her in the chaos.

“Krin!” Jinks bellowed.

Krin bolted toward the staterooms, the dog in her arms.

Dan aimed where he thought Jinks’ upper body would be and fired several hasty shots at about sixty feet. The rounds hit an unbroken portion of the window just ahead of Jinks, shattering it and sending splinters of glass shrapnel onto the right side of Jinks’ body and face. He screamed, lost his footing, and fell. The bulk of Jinks’ body landed outside the window, but part of him was hung up in the opening, stuck on the razor-sharp glass with the full weight of his body pressing down on it. His left elbow was impaled and the back of one thigh bled like he’d been slashed open with a machete.

Dan fired again, striking Jinks in the leg that was stuck through the opening. Jinks cried out when the round punched through his calf, but the searing pain gave him the impetus to pull clear of the window, dragging his injured limb over the jagged fingers of glass. There was a deafening barrage of rifle fire on the deck outside, the muzzle flashes visible through the remaining windows.

On the side deck, Sal cried with unrelenting hatred as he fired a wild, full-auto barrage at Jinks. Sal had given up on the notion of cover, solely focused on killing the man who’d taken his son from him.

“Sal!” Holly screamed. “Get back!”

Jinks’ shotgun barked and two more of the plate glass windows exploded. Sal cried out and his rifle clattered against the deck. Dan rushed the window, aiming at the spot where he’d last seen Jinks. His heart was pounding and his finger was already taking up pressure on the trigger, knowing at any second it was going to be him who dropped Jinks for good.

The opportunity was snatched from Dan’s fingers. He reached the window just in time to hear Jinks’ body hitting the water. He’d rolled beneath the chain railing and slid over the side like an eel, leaving a bloody trail on the deck behind him. Dan aimed over the railing and swept the dark water with his weapon light, but Jinks was gone.

“Where the hell is he?” Dan barked. When Holly didn’t answer, Dan threw a glance to the side and spotted her kneeling over Sal’s body, delivering medical attention. “Oh shit. How bad is it?”

Sal was sobbing but it wasn’t from the pain of his injuries, it was from the pain of loss. Pain for his son, whose name he moaned like it was some ancient incantation, some prayer for salvation. The sound of voices drew Dan’s attention back to the shoreline. Security had finally reached the dock.

“Jinks shot Sal and jumped overboard!” Dan yelled. “Watch out for him!”

The guards began sweeping the water with their cartel-supplied flashlights in an effort to spot Jinks.

Dan cupped his hands around his mouth. “He cut us loose! Can any of you see a line?”

While one of the guards kept up the search for Jinks, the other ran his light down the side of the houseboat, searching for a trailing line. When he spotted one, he laid his weapon on the dock, stripped off his heavy gear, and dove in. When he surfaced, he was alongside the boat. Dan directed the beam of his light toward the spot where the man was groping for the line.

“I hope your finger is off that trigger!” the man yelled.

“It is!” Dan called back. “Just get that rope and tie us off!”

The guard had the line in his hand and was trying to swim back to the shoreline. Dan knew just how hard it was in these frigid waters. He’d been in the same predicament when he’d jumped in after Sal’s dog. The guard didn’t have as far to go, and the slow current gave him plenty of time to get back to shore.

The boat had crept far enough toward the river that the line would no longer reach the dock, but the guard was able to tie them off to an overhanging tree. Although his fingers were too cold to form a knot, he did manage to get a few wraps around the tree before the houseboat drew the line taut. The heavy rope creaked and the tree groaned but both held.

The soaked guard cursed, hugged himself, and jogged to the dock. Other members of Sal’s security detail, drawn into action by the gunfire, arrived at the scene. Unable to continue its journey toward the river, the mooring line swung the houseboat into the riverbank. Dan unrolled a boarding ladder in the opening left by the missing gangplank. Two of the security detail charged into the water and hauled themselves up the ladder while the rest searched the banks for Jinks.

Dan stood there against the railing, uncertain what to do at this point. He watched Holly working on Sal while the security team boarded.

“What’s the situation?” one of the guards asked. It was TJ. He clicked on a headlamp and dropped to Sal’s side. “

“I can’t see well enough to properly assess him,” Holly said. “We need to get him inside and get some of this blood off.”

TJ pointed to Dan and the other security guard. “Let’s get him in there where the light is better.”

Together, they got Sal to his feet and helped him inside. His clothes were damp with cooling blood.

“You guys don’t have a doctor, do you?” Holly asked.

“Better. They have me,” TJ said. “A combat medic.”

Despite his protests, they stretched Sal out on the dining table, and everyone directed their lights onto his body. Sal repeated Reggie’s name over and over.

TJ removed a trauma kit from his belt and tossed it on the table. He looked around the room curiously. “Where is Reggie?”

“Jinks shot him after he cut us loose,” Holly said. “He fell overboard and we weren’t able to locate him.”

The other guard got on his radio and advised the searchers on the shoreline that Reggie might be out there too.

“Help me prop him up,” the medic said. “We need to get these shirts off.”

Sal hadn’t had time to put on a coat before rushing outside, but he was wearing a heavy sweater, a silk shirt, and a tank top beneath that. Once they had him propped up, TJ used a pair of shears to cut the garments loose, tossing them to the side as quickly as they were removed.

With Sal’s back exposed, TJ used a headlamp to carefully check him for wounds, using gauze to wipe away any blood. He laid him down on his back and checked his chest and sides just as carefully. He caught the other guard’s eye. “Have someone bring me the big trauma kit from the guest house.”

The other guard relayed that piece of information over the radio and one of the security team advised he was already on his way with it.

TJ put a hand on Sal’s shoulder and spoke to him in a loud, firm voice. “Sir, you have a lot of blood on your pants. Were you hit below the waist or just in the upper body?”

“Upper…body,” Sal replied, trying to stop grief from swallowing him entirely.

While TJ spoke to Sal, Holly reached over and swatted Dan on the arm. “Find Krin. Make sure she’s okay.”

24

Jinks was thankful the boat was so close to the shore when he dropped over the edge. It was only that proximity that allowed him to reach shore with one injured leg and muscles impaired by the involuntary shivering that wracked his body. While the frigid water helped numb the numerous cuts and slashes inflicted on him by the broken glass, it did nothing to ease the horrible burning from the bullet wound deep inside his calf.

He was barely able to dogpaddle by the time he struck shore. Even when his feet hit bottom, they couldn’t get purchase on the slimy riverbed. He latched onto tree branches and pulled himself out of the water and up the steep embankment. Standing was nearly impossible, the cold stiffening his muscles and making him shiver violently as his body fought to save itself. He tried to take a step, but his injured leg couldn’t bear weight. The pain felt like someone with a sledgehammer had driven a railroad spike deep into his leg.

The pain was sobering enough that Jinks realized his predicament. He attempted to reload the empty shotgun he still carried around his neck, but his stiff fingers made it difficult to fish the rounds from his jean pocket. He dropped three as he fought to load the short tube magazine, but he got it done. There were shouts around him now, both from the boat and the direction of the dock. Lights swept the treeline and across the water. He’d gotten out of the river just in time, but he was far from safe. Everyone in the immediate proximity wanted his head on a platter.

He tried another step, which only proved he wasn’t getting anywhere that way. Jinks leaned over, keeping his injured leg straight. He groped around, searching for the right sized stick in the jumbled piles of driftwood around him. The first two he came up with were attached to larger branches and wouldn’t come free. Finally, he found one that was larger than he wanted but would help bear his weight. He let the shotgun hang free around his neck and lurched off through the woods.

Behind him, there was more shouting and more sweeping lights. Jinks wasn’t thinking clearly, but he realized this was more lights than he had seen in one place since the EMP hit half a year ago. In his haste to put distance between himself and his pursuers, he stumbled over a log, falling and striking the shin of his injured leg. He was unable to stifle a cry, biting his lip to keep from screaming. Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, mixing with dirt and blood. He rolled over, struggled to his feet, and kept going, wishing he had some of those fancy nightvision goggles some of the others had.

Jinks figured if those guards had trained dogs, he’d have been a goner already. Thankfully, they didn’t. Reggie told them that Sal forbade it because he was afraid big dogs like that might hurt Fluffy. However, that didn’t mean that one of the searchers wouldn’t stumble upon him. Even if there were only a few people looking for him, it only took one.

“Reggie!” a voice to his left shouted. “Reggie!”

Jinks paused and tried to focus. He couldn’t be stumbling around like an idiot when he couldn’t see where he was going. The cold was impairing his brain, and he was going to get himself caught if he wasn’t careful. He was afraid to move, yet the longer he stood still the more violently he trembled.

Hypothermia was an imminent risk, and Jinks didn’t have a clue what he could do to save himself. He was separated from his pack with his sleeping bag and dry clothes. There were certainly other sources for dry gear nearby, but he was at a loss as to how to get them. He was struggling to come up with a plan because the cold was shutting down his brain. Soon, his body would begin shutting down too. Then Jinks remembered a survival show he’d once seen on television.

He unzipped his dripping jacket and laid it on the ground beside him. One item at a time, he stripped his clothes off until he was as bare as he’d been when he entered the world. Although it was too cold to survive naked in these temperatures, Jinks felt warmer than when he’d been wearing the soaked clothing. Using the walking stick and a sapling, Jinks lowered himself to the ground, trying his best not to cry out from the searing pain in his leg. Once he was on the ground, he used his damp t-shirt to wrap his leg.

Even touching his throbbing leg made him want to vomit—not only from the pain, but from the wrongness of its condition, flayed by dragging it through the broken window, and flaps of numb flesh hung loose. He’d have to address that at some point, though he wasn’t sure how. He thought the bullet might have passed clean through his leg. It hadn’t broken the bone, though it felt as if it might have nicked bone. The bleeding had slowed, but the risk of infection was high with such a traumatic injury. That was another thing he’d have to deal with when he was able to think more clearly.

With the leg protected, Jinks raked fallen leaves onto his body. Starting with his legs, he piled mulch, leaf litter, and leaves onto himself in a heap. He laid down, covering more and more of his body. Flat on his back, he continued to pile them on his torso until the pile was so high that leaves fell across his face and damp hair. Only then did Jinks retract his arms into the pile like a turtle retreating into his shell.

He was shaking so hard by this point that he imagined the trembling leaves would be audible to anyone passing by, like a rattler warning someone to keep their distance. To Jinks’ relief, the nest of debris he’d piled on his body soon trapped the sparse heat his body was emitting. Within a half hour, his shivering had subsided and he grew comfortable, though far from toasty warm. It was just enough to calm him. It was enough to survive.

For as much as his mind didn’t want to go there, being in this nest reminded him of his childhood, just like watching those people laughing inside the houseboat had earlier. There was a shed out back of his childhood home that was rarely used once his father died. Inside that shed, a rotting canvas tarp offered Jinks a nest similar to the one he took shelter in on this night. He would wrap himself in it, ignoring the bits of hay, the mouse droppings, and the shed snakeskin that accumulated in the folds of the tarp. None of those things were as bad as what he endured in the house.

In that nest, Jinks would fall asleep, which was exactly what he did there on the ground in his nest of leaves. The shouting grew distant, the sounds of snapping twigs and footsteps moved further away. Jinks slipped into a peaceful, protective slumber like some reptile native to this dark forest.

25

Dan found Krin in their stateroom, the door locked. When he eventually coaxed her out, assuring her that Jinks was gone, they returned to the main cabin where TJ was working on Sal. The old man’s wounds required attention but were not life-threatening. He’d taken a few rounds of buckshot but hadn’t been hit by a direct blast from Jinks’ shotgun. The rushed shot had taken out several windows instead of taking out Sal.

Dan and Holly covered the shot-out windows with plastic sheeting and duct tape they found in a storage room. While they worked, the medic finished patching up Sal. One of the buckshot pellets had caught him in the shoulder, one in the bicep, and another had passed completely through the flesh just above his right hip. With some lidocaine and forceps, the pellets were removed and the wounds cleaned. TJ bandaged Sal and started him on an antibiotic.

Krin returned Fluffy to Sal, and he clutched her like a lifeline. He’d fallen silent, understanding that if Reggie had not returned by this point, it wasn’t likely that he was going to. TJ asked him the occasional medical question, to which Sal either mumbled a response or ignored entirely.

When they were done covering the windows, Dan and Holly brought in more firewood and stoked all the stoves. The temperature of the large room had dropped significantly.

“I can’t believe Jinks did this,” Krin muttered, looking at Sal stretched out on the table. She was hugging herself and pacing anxiously.

“I can,” Dan said. “He’s crazy. Not just your garden variety murdering asshole, but totally batshit crazy.”

“Not your buddy anymore?” Holly asked.

Dan frowned. “He never was my buddy. He was like someone I would get along with, until about ten minutes into the relationship when he turned into an asshole. It went downhill from there.”

“And it continues to go downhill,” Holly added.

“You think he’s dead?” Krin asked in a low voice, as if her question might somehow lead to Jinks materializing in the room with them.

Holly shrugged. “No idea. He was alive when he went over the edge, but a lot could have happened after that. Blood loss or the cold might have gotten to him.”

“He’s alive.” Dan said it with the certainty of a man predicting the weather. “He’s too mean to die. Too resourceful. He’s probably slithered up under a rock out there somewhere, waiting on daylight.”

“I wish we had thermal,” Holly said. “Best way to find someone hiding in the dark. When I was a cop, we’d send helicopters up with thermal to chase down suspects on foot. They never got far.”

Dan glanced at Fluffy. “I’d prefer a dog. A really mean one.”

“Well, we don’t have either,” Holly said. “So I guess we wait until daylight and see if he left any tracks.”

“We have a thermal scope at the main house,” TJ said.

“Why isn’t anyone using it?” Holly asked.

TJ adjusted the flow on an IV he’d placed in Sal’s arm. “We just got it from our cartel connection a week ago. It’s not even mounted to anything yet.”

“You think we could use it?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not. We’ve got two guys stationed at the main house. I can have one of them bring it to the back door for you.”

Holly perked up. “That would be great.”

“I’m going to have him bring another radio. If you’re running around those woods while our team is out there, you guys need to stay linked up.”

“Copy that,” Holly said. “Dan, you in?”

Dan rubbed his hands together. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Krin held up a hand. “Count me out. I’m staying on the boat. I’ll keep the fire going and stay close in case Sal needs me.”

Holly nodded at Dan and the two of them headed off to gear up.

“Dan!” Sal called.

Everyone was surprised at the volume and the clarity of Sal’s voice. He’d barely seemed present while TJ was treating him. Dan and Holly returned to his side and Holly rested a gentle hand on Sal’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Dan asked.

“You’re going after him?”

Dan nodded. “We are.”

“Look for my boy,” he mumbled, his words thick and awkward. “Check the riverbank. He might…” Sal trailed off. As much as he wanted Reggie to be alive, there was no way he could muster the words to suggest that might be the case.

“We’ll do our best, Sal,” Dan said. “I promise you.”

Holly and Dan grabbed their gear and headed out. The night air was brisk, with a steady breeze that cut right through them.

Dan played his light over the short span of water between the boat and the shoreline. “I don’t want to wade through that. My swim yesterday was the last one I want to take until summer.”

Holly slung her rifle around her neck and sat down on the deck. She slid over the edge by a mooring cleat and dangled from the line that connected the boat to a nearby tree. Her feet were barely above the water. She climbed hand over hand until she’d crossed the dozen feet or so to the tree.

“Shine your light where I need to land,” Holly said.

Dan had no idea how far she could swing or jump or whatever it was she was about to do. He simply directed his light to the base of the tree and crossed his fingers.

“I can’t hit that, Dan. Move right about two feet.”

He did as he was told and watched as Holly took a few tentative swings on the line to gather momentum, then swung and landed as smoothly as an Olympic gymnast.

“I’m impressed,” Dan said.

“Your turn to impress me. Go for it.”

“Seriously, Holly? You think we have time for that right now?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“I meant by crossing the rope, dumbass.”

“That’s just as well. The cold isn’t very flattering, if you know what I mean.”

“You must always be cold,” Holly teased.

Dan sneered and barked a fake laugh before dropping his rifle sling around his neck and sitting on the edge of the deck in the same way Holly had only moments earlier. He slipped off the edge and clung to the rope, quickly realizing that this wasn’t going to be as easy as Holly had made it look.

“Shit! I’m not going to be able to make it!” he grunted, already feeling his gloved fingers slipping on the rope.

“It’s a little too late to think about that now because I doubt you’d be able to swing back up onto the deck. You can’t just hang there. Get moving before your hands give out.”

Dan tried to remember the last time he’d done a pull-up or anything like it. It was probably twenty-five years ago and obviously things had changed. Already feeling his fingers protesting the burden of his body, rifle, and pack, Dan began to rock back and forth. He used that momentum to help him climb across the rope and toward the shore. He almost made it.

He was within three feet of shore when he anticipated the impending dismount. “There’s no way I can jump off like you did. I’ll break my freakin’ neck.”

“Then just drop.”

“I’m over the water and my boots are dry!”

“Well, I can’t rescue you. Figure it out.”

Dan cursed nonstop for nearly a minute before accepting he’d gone as far as he was going on the rope traverse. He looked down and saw that he was about a foot above the water. While he couldn’t help but be concerned about what might be lurking beneath the surface, he was helpless to do anything about it. If there was a rock, an upright stob of a branch, or some jagged piece of a 1949 Chrysler, he was landing on it. There was no way around it. Dan reluctantly opened his fingers and dropped.

Dan was spared impalement, mercifully not landing on some sharp stick embedded in the mud. Nor did he break his ankle by landing at an odd angle on a rock. He did, however, land on the slippery slope of the submerged riverbank and lost his balance. His feet shot backward, and his upper body went forward. He managed to throw out his arms and catch himself after going down to his knees. He was soaked to the thighs, but he’d avoided driving his rifle down into the mud and most of his body remained dry.

“Shit!”

Holly gave a pitiful shake of her head.

“I told you I couldn’t make it.” Dan stood and waded for the shore, mud sucking at his boots with each step.

“The time to think about that was before you committed. Once you were on the rope, there was no going back.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Holly held onto the tree with one hand and thrust out the other toward Dan. She helped him up the final steps onto the bank. “Are you going to be able to keep going?”

“I’m going,” he snapped. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a doubtful look but understood there was little point in arguing with him. Dan was going to do what Dan was going to do. “How about you sit down and empty the water out of your boots while I go collect the thermal from the security team.”

“Fine.” Dan headed for a rock, sat down, and unlaced his boots.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Holly said. “I shouldn’t be long.” She headed for the main house, navigating by flashlight so the security team would see her coming.

Dan remained there sitting on his rock like an angry garden gnome. He pulled off a boot and dumped the water from it. “This is my life,” he muttered.

26

Ten minutes later Dan was sitting on that same rock, an even grumpier garden gnome than he’d been when he’d first splashed his way out of the river. Sitting in wet clothes in the cold night was beginning to make him shiver, even though it was only his legs that were wet. He felt like Holly should have been back by now. She was only going up to the main house to get a thermal scope from one of the guards. Apparently, they couldn’t find the damn thing and he didn’t have a radio to call her on. The ones he and Holly used to communicate during their travels were sitting in their stateroom where they did them absolutely no good whatsoever.

Dan stood and started pacing, trying to restore some warmth and circulation to his frozen feet. He wore a thick beanie with a twin tube nightvision rig strapped overtop it because he didn’t want to have to rely on a flashlight while Holly was using thermal. He dropped the device down in front of his eyes and powered it up. After it flickered to life, Dan saw his surroundings in stark white detail.

Bored and seeing no reason to waste his time standing around doing nothing, he wandered down the river bank a short distance, searching the ground for footprints. He imagined Jinks had to have come out of the water along here somewhere. In summer he might have been able to float for miles before emerging from the river, but there was no way he’d survive doing that on a cold night like this. There was a trail along the river’s edge, likely cut by a combination of wild game and wild grandkids, one of them searching for water and the other searching for adventure.

Dan looked toward the main house, but he saw no sign of Holly. He promised himself he’d only go a little further, then he’d circle back and check to see if she’d returned. Besides, she was supposed to be coming back with thermal, so she’d have no trouble picking him out in this sparse winter forest. She’d probably be pissed about him wandering off, but he was so used to her tongue-lashings they rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.

There was enough of a moon that the high-quality nightvision device offered an excellent view of his surroundings. Dan wasn’t skilled enough to track a man through grass and leaf mulch, but there was a wide strip of soft mud where the river lapped at the shoreline. No one could cross that without leaving deep tracks, which meant even someone with Dan’s limited ability should be able to easily spot Jinks’ egress from the river, unless he’d drowned. Dan didn’t think they could be that lucky. People like Jinks were the cockroaches of the apocalypse, never dying the first time they stomped them.

Dan wandered along the riverbank, his rifle held casually in one hand like a deer hunter leaving the truck on a cold fall morning. Despite Holly’s warning to be more “ready” in situations like this, Dan always reverted to what came naturally. He wasn’t trained to fight with a gun. He was a Tennessee boy who’d grown up using them to add variety to the supper table, not stack bodies.

Dan’s casual demeanor went out the window when he spotted a disturbance in the muddy shoreline. There were large footprints that slid in the mud, one of them at an odd angle, as if the person who’d left those prints was struggling to make one leg work properly. A chill went down Dan’s spine and he snapped his rifle up, safety off. He slowly scanned the forest around him, fully expecting to find Jinks only feet away, aiming a shotgun in his direction and ready to pull the trigger.

Mercifully, Dan didn’t find Jinks. In fact, he didn’t find anything. With his nightvision unable to penetrate the deepest shadows of the surrounding forest, he longed for the thermal scope that Holly was supposed to be bringing. Any one of those shadows could have concealed Jinks. With the thermal device, his body heat would have made him stand out from his surroundings like a neon sign.

“If you needed the thermal, I guess you should have waited for Holly,” he whispered to himself.

He wasn’t going to wait for her now, and he damn sure wasn’t going to abandon the search after he’d found his first clue. This was like climbing onto that rope leading from the boat to the shore. He was committed. Dan drew back on the charging handle of his rifle just enough that he could use a fingertip to confirm the presence of a chambered round in his rifle, then he flicked the selector to the Fire position.

The trail beneath his feet was made of wet leaves scattered over a mud and sand mixture. Whoever came out of the water here had shed clumps of mud, marking their direction of travel like a trail of breadcrumbs. Dan listened carefully but heard nothing outside of the unceasing churning of the river and his own breathing.

He continued down the trail because that was the direction the dislodged clumps and smeared mud led. He moved slowly, anticipating that the man he was tracking would not be able to move quickly due to his leg wound. Dan thought about checking those clumps of mud for signs of blood, but it wasn’t showing up in his nightvision and he didn’t want to use a flashlight.

Every few minutes, he paused and listened for anything out of the ordinary. When he heard nothing, he kept going, losing track of time and distance. When he looked back, he no longer saw the glowing windows of the houseboat illuminated by lantern light. Holly was going to be pissed, but he had no way of making contact with her and he damn sure wasn’t yelling out. If Jinks was somewhere close, Dan had no interest in warning him that he was being tracked.

He crept down the trail, trying to recall everything Holly had taught him about advancing on a target. He worked to control his breathing, moved steadily without rushing, lifting his feet and gently placing them to avoid scuffing up leaves. In addition to constantly scanning his surroundings, he checked the trail ahead of him for any twigs that might snap beneath his feet. As he played through that list in his head, he understood it was no different than deer hunting really, except deer didn’t shoot back. That was a significant difference, and one that would have certainly changed the experience of deer hunting were it to be the case.

From the game trail, Dan had the river on his left and the wooded boundary between the river and Sal’s estate on his right. Through his nightvision, he could clearly see the muddy shoreline of the river. That was how he’d spotted Jinks’ footprints. That was also how he spotted the odd, tangled shape sprawled there halfway in the water, halfway on the shore.

Dan stopped in his tracks and studied the shape from a distance. It sure looked like a person, but there were two options as to who it might be. One person had left the river and taken the trail Dan was following. The other had not escaped the cold water. Which person was this? Dan had to make certain.

He estimated the body was about thirty feet away. Dan cautiously stepped off the trail and down the two-foot embankment to the river level. Mud clumped to his shoes and each step was heavier than the last. As cautiously as he was moving, he had to stop after a few steps and shake the mud loose from his shoes. He could clearly see that the shape was a body now and so far, it hadn’t moved. He stopped in his tracks and stood watching.

If it was Jinks, it could be a trap. He may have realized someone was following him and he couldn’t outrun them due to his injury. He could be waiting for Dan to roll him over, then he’d attack. If it was Reggie, he was likely dead.

Seeing no option, Dan flipped the nightvision device up and out of the way, then hit the pad switch to trigger his weapon light. He blinked as the harsh beam of the LED light washed over the scene. He saw immediately that it was Reggie and not Jinks. There were no cowboy boots, no flannel shirt, and the hair was too short.

Dan circled the figure, staying out of reach just in case he was wrong. He wasn’t. Reggie’s face was pressed into mud, his eyes and mouth open. The front of his shirt was a bloody mess, the dampness of his clothing allowing the wound to continue seeping. As much as Dan hated to, he checked his six one more time, then leaned over and felt for a pulse at Reggie’s neck. The body was cold and Reggie’s heart was not beating.

He blew out a defeated breath. Reggie was a good dude and Sal had been a wonderful host. As demoralized as Dan was about finding the body, he was equally crushed at the prospect of having to confirm Sal’s worst expectations. Dan wanted to pick Reggie up and carry him back to the dock, but there was no way he was doing that. Not only would the body be too difficult for him to carry off the slippery shoreline, Jinks might still be out there somewhere. In fact, he might be watching Dan at this very moment, drawn by the glow of his weapon light.

Dan reached inside his coat and removed a chemlight Holly had given him to use as an emergency light source. He snapped it, shook it, and it glowed with a pale green light. He gently placed the light on Reggie’s back, marking him for anyone else who might come along. With that done, he turned off his flashlight and went back to nightvision. He reluctantly returned to the trail, scraped his shoes off on an exposed tree root, and headed back to meet Holly.

He’d wandered a fair distance, and it took him longer than expected to get back. When he arrived, Holly was waiting, and she was livid. He folded his nightvision up out of the way and she hit him with the beam of her flashlight.

“I should have known you’d wander off like an idiot. The whole point of getting the thermal scope was so we could see what we were walking into. Instead, you decide to go blindly stumbling off, just like you always do.” The expression on his face made her pause. “Are you okay?”

“I found Reggie.”

The anger faded from her face. “And he’s…?”

Dan nodded. “He made it to shore, but Jinks nearly cut him in half with that shotgun.”

“Shit.”

“I know. I wanted to bring him back but I’m going to need help.”

Holly pulled out the radio she’d picked up at the main house along with the thermal scope. “This is Holly for all security elements. Holly for all security elements. We’ve located Reggie and require assistance near the dock.”

TJ was on the radio immediately. “You say you have Reggie?”

Holly pushed the mic button on the walkie talkie. “That’s affirmative. Dan found him.”

“Is he…?” TJ asked, no more able to finish the question than Holly had been a moment ago.

Holly repeated the words as she’d done hundreds of times as a cop. “Subject is deceased.”

Dan and Holly could hear Sal’s sobbing in the background. “Copy that. Please let us know when you’ve retrieved the body.”

“Acknowledged.”

Over the next few minutes, the members of the security team working the grounds trickled in, joining Dan and Holly at the dock. They were somber and upset. Reggie wasn’t just their employer’s son, he’d been their friend, and this was personal to them.

When everyone was there, one of them asked, “Who found him?”

Dan raised a finger in the air.

“Lead the way.”

27

When Jinks woke up in his nest of forest debris, he felt relaxed and much more alert. He couldn’t have been asleep long, but the nap had been restorative. He felt alive and ready to continue the fight. All he needed was a plan. While he was trying to come up with one, he noticed lights appearing nearby and eventually figured out that the people searching for him had found Reggie’s body.

While it was uncomfortably close to his burrow, the body recovery had them distracted for now. They were using headlamps to examine the body. If he focused, Jinks could see them as well as hear them. He practically salivated at the thought of opening fire on them with his shotgun so he could make them pay for the throbbing in his leg.

He had no desire to be a martyr, however. Nothing drove him toward the notion of self-sacrifice. He had no fantasy of taking out as many of them as he could before they mowed him down. Just because he wanted them to die didn’t mean he wanted to die himself. Where was the satisfaction in that? Where was the reward? No, he wanted to stand over a pile of their corpses and gloat. He wanted to desecrate their bodies and take trophies.

He understood that even with his rage and his predatory instinct, he was in no position to wage war on his enemies at the moment. He was naked and the only clothing he had was soaked from rolling in the river. In addition to that, his mobility was impacted by his wounded leg. He couldn’t wage a running battle when he couldn’t even run.

His only satisfaction came from watching his enemies while they didn’t know he was there. While he could catch snippets of conversation, he wasn’t close enough to interpret what he was hearing. After a while, the novelty of the experience wore off and he wondered what was taking them so long. They had a tarp with them, which Jinks presumed was for carrying the body. They’d rolled it out on the ground beside Reggie but had made no attempt yet to move him onto it. Judging by their posture, Jinks imagined they were having some kind of impromptu memorial service. The security team was saying goodbye to their friend and companion. How sweet.

Even though he initially gloated at the fact he was watching them unaware, Jinks became concerned that they might renew their search for him at any moment. He had no doubt they’d want revenge on the man who’d violated their inner sanctum and taken out one of their people. They were close enough to his burrow that they might stumble upon him if they wandered off-trail and searched the woods. Jinks decided it might be wise for him to take advantage of their distraction and retreat.

As quietly and gently as he could, Jinks swept the leaves and forest debris off his body. Done delicately, the process seemed to take forever, but he was free. He was also exposed to the cold air again and it was miserable. He couldn’t force himself to pull on his wet clothes yet so he decided he might be better off remaining nude, at least temporarily.

Jinks struggled to his feet, then gathered his clothes, boots, weapon, and his walking stick. With his leg nearly useless at this point, the walking stick helped. He crept off barefoot, trying his best to not think about the cold. He'd once had someone tell him it was easier to conquer the cold than the heat, but Jinks had a hard time imagining that now. He’d have killed for some heat. Hell, he’d have killed for a lot of things.

Once he was clear of the people retrieving Reggie’s body, Jinks limped as quickly as he could, trying to generate body heat through physical activity. With each step, his injured leg shot a knife-like pain all the way up to his hip. Soon his toes and feet were numb from the cold ground, but that did nothing to ease the pain from the gunshot. He kept tripping and stubbing his toes because he couldn’t see well, but he was afraid to use the flashlight he had in his soaked pants pocket. He couldn’t take a chance on his pursuers spotting it, forcing him to use the sparse moonlight to navigate the trail. While he was moving blindly, it was not without intention or purpose. He had a destination in mind, at least a temporary one.

The jon boat that had carried them down the river sat upside down high above the waterline. Jinks tried to flip it over, an action he’d have had no problem accomplishing in better times. With frozen muscles and an injured leg, he could barely budge it. He was forced to drop to his belly in the cold, wet weeds and crawl beneath the boat. After some groping around, he found the heavy canvas tarp they’d left there. They’d seen no reason to take it with them, assuming they’d be returning to the boat at some point.

Jinks crawled out from beneath the boat and unfolded the tarp. He snatched his Bowie knife from his stack of clothing and used it to cut a hole in the center of the tarp. The entire time he was limping down the trail he’d been recalling Sylvester Stallone as Rambo, from the movie adaptation of David Morrell’s book. When he’d been underdressed for cold weather after escaping police custody, he’d fashioned a poncho from a scrap of canvas using his iconic knife.

Once Jinks had the tarp over his head and cinched around his waist with a scrap of rope, he appreciated that while it did knock off some of the breeze, it was far from cozy. Rambo at least had pants. Jinks felt like a Scotsman in a kilt, traipsing commando into a cold, damp day. There was no way the ratty poncho would keep him alive. As much as he hated to, he wrung out his clothes and pulled on his damp pants, wet socks, and soaked boots.

Jinks wanted to build a fire to warm up and dry his clothes. He had a waterproof baggie in his pants pocket with cotton balls soaked in Vaseline, which made a dependable firestarter. He was afraid he was still too close to the houseboat. The smell of a fire carried. They could track him down and kill him before he even saw them coming.

If he wanted dry clothes they were going to have to come from another source. Jinks draped his shotgun over his neck and tied his jacket around his waist. Part of him wanted to wear the jacket simply because that was easier than carrying it, but he couldn’t stand the idea of that heavy, wet fabric wrapped around him. The jeans and boots were bad enough. Jinks took up his walking stick and started walking. He was going to take the fight to them.

28

Despite his gunshot wounds, Sal was up and pacing the deck of the boat when the team returned with Reggie’s body. Dan had witnessed Sal’s grief in person, and he’d heard Sal’s weeping in the background when Holly informed TJ they’d found Reggie’s body. Everyone expected Sal’s grief to explode when they returned to the boat with his son’s body on the tarp. Instead, the opposite happened.

Sal calmed in the way that red hot metal cools when pulled from a forge. His resolve set in that same way, heat-treated and fire-hardened.

“Bring him onboard.” Sal turned and limped back inside.

It was no easy process to transfer the literal dead weight of Reggie’s body onto the houseboat. Everyone had to wade back out into the water and stand there while two of the group climbed a boarding ladder. The blood-slickened tarp threatened to dump Reggie back into the river, so they tossed it to the side and hauled him aboard by brute force. Inside, Sal sprawled in his recliner with a glass of dark liquor in his hands. Krin stood behind him, cradling Fluffy in her arms.

The corpse-bearers looked around expectantly, uncertain of what they were supposed to do with Reggie now that they had him inside. TJ directed them toward the dining table. It was still bloody from Sal’s earlier medical treatment and surrounded by discarded packaging from the gauze, bandages, and IV that had been used. Once Reggie’s body was gently placed on the table, TJ arranged him into the most presentable, dignified position possible, considering the wounds he’d received. That complete, he stepped aside and faced Sal.

Sal glanced over toward his son, then gestured at the group with his drink. “Somebody get some towels and a bucket of water so I can clean him up.”

One of the men headed for the back of the boat to carry out Sal’s order.

Holly stepped forward. “Sal, you don’t have to do that. We can take care of it for you.”

Sal drained his glass and pushed up out of his chair, wincing at the pain the movement produced. “It’s an old tradition, sitting with the dead. It’s how things were done in my family until the last generation. I’m not sure why we got away from it really. It seems right, you know? Family caring for family. Family holding vigil over the body.”

Dan cleared his throat. “That was tradition where I come from too, though fewer people do it these days. I remember my grandfather was kept in the home when he died back in the 70s. The family took turns keeping watch. All the adults took a shift. He was never left alone.”

Without responding to the comment, Sal put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. It was a sign of appreciation, an acknowledgment that Dan understood why Sal needed to do this. Sal rested the palm of his other hand on Reggie’s damp, bloody chest.

“My…boy.”

Sal was struggling to maintain his composure, determined not to give into the grief that threatened to swallow him. He looked around at the faces of the people surrounding him.

“I’ll take care of my son. The rest of you find the bastard that did this and bring him to me. I want a piece of him.”

Although everyone there was tired, wet, and frozen, no one complained. No one wanted to quit. How could they? Dan and Holly owed Sal, and they assumed the rest of the people in this group felt the same. They all had a fondness for, a loyalty to, the kind old mobster who only wanted to sit out the apocalypse in peace on an old houseboat moored in his backyard.

Holly patted Dan on the small of the back. “Let’s get our gear and slide it across the mooring line. We need to get into some dry clothes before we go back out there.”

“How about we all meet on the dock in fifteen minutes?” TJ suggested. “That’ll give us time to change into dry clothes and gear up for a manhunt.”

Dan and Holly both expressed their condolences to Sal one more time before heading to their stateroom to get their gear. Each of them carried a carabiner on their packs and they clipped them to the mooring line, letting them slide down the angled rope to the tree on the other end. Since they were already wet, neither of them bothered shimmying across the mooring line this time. They descended the boarding ladder, dropped back into the cold river, and sloshed their way onto shore. The rest of the security team had already crossed and were double-timing it across the estate to their quarters.

Dan and Holly took a seat on the dock and dug into their packs. They stripped out of their damp clothes and piled them onto one of the Adirondack chairs. There was no use carrying wet clothing with them. They dressed in dry gear from their packs, but their coats were still damp from being splashed earlier. When it was time to put on their soaked boots, Holly produced two pairs of thin plastic shopping bags.

“Put these on over your socks, then pull your boots on,” she said, handing Dan a pair of them.

Dan couldn’t help but smile. “God, the memories. My grandmother kept old bread bags for this very purpose. She and my grandfather always wore them under their boots in the winter.”

“They didn’t have the fancy, high-tech shoes we have now.”

Dan held one of his fancy, high-tech boots aloft. “Well, they weren’t waterproof when I was standing waist-deep in the river.”

“Mine either,” Holly said, sliding a plastic-wrapped foot into a boot.

Dan did the same. “Not too shabby.”

Holly checked her watch. “Still have about ten minutes.”

“Standing bare-assed and freezing in the cold tends to encourage one to dress rapidly.” Dan turned on his headlamp, needing some light to finish squaring away his gear. That was when noticed something out of the corner of his eye, sitting further down the dock. “What’s that?”

“No idea.” Holly got to her feet and turned on her own headlamp.

“I think I see a guitar.”

“Jinks’ guitar and backpack,” Holly determined, heading down the dock to retrieve it. She returned a few seconds later, Jinks’ pack in one hand and his guitar case in the other. In the light of her headlamp, she unfastened the buckles that held the top flap of his pack closed.

“What are you doing?” Dan asked.

“I want to see what this psycho is carrying.” She uncinched the drawstring that held the top of the pack closed, then dumped the contents onto the dock.

Dan and Holly were immediately hit with the smell of rank, mildewed clothing. Holly nudged around the pile with the toe of her boot. There were some loose shotgun shells, a plastic baggie with handgun rounds, and some meager food items. There were some crushed packs of ramen noodles, some bent beef sticks, and a few cans of sardines. There was a Case folding knife, a plastic bag of assorted over-the-counter medicines, and a well-worn first-aid kit. Other items of camping gear rounded out the gear.

“See anything suspicious?” Dan asked.

Holly shook her head. “Not a damn thing.”

She picked Jinks’ empty pack up from the dock and clapped it between her hands, then paused, feeling something unusual. She stuck a hand inside and found a concealed pocket similar to the one her own pack had. She found a zipper, tugged it open, then played her light around inside.

She’d been a cop long enough that she didn’t blindly shove her hands inside pockets. Seeing the corner of a plastic baggie, she carefully extracted it and examined it in the glow of her headlamp. Inside were perhaps a dozen driver’s licenses from different states. All of them had belonged to women.

“I guess I know what he was looking for in my backpack now,” Holly said.

“A license?”

“A trophy.”

29

Jinks knew the guards patrolling Sal’s estate were always vigilant when they were working, but he was sure they were all occupied with Reggie’s body now. It would take them some time to haul the body back, then they’d probably have to listen to Sal rant and rave about what he was going to do with Jinks if he ever caught him. The guards would probably swear they’d do everything in their power to find him. Even Holly and Dan would pitch in and agree to help. Jinks had no intention of letting any of that happen. This was his night.

The members of the security team who had families stayed in the main house. Much of the big house was shut off because the large, high-ceilinged rooms were impossible to heat. The half-dozen families living there had figured out that the subterranean basement spaces were the easiest to heat since the walls were underground. Using a combination of kerosene heaters, a wood stove, and propane they managed to carve out a living space that was at least warm, even if a little cramped.

The single security contractors stayed in a guest house they called “the barracks” because it functioned as one. Weapons and supplies were stored there, meetings were held there, and rooms were shared. The place had more of a frat house vibe than the more family-oriented main house. Drinking and legendary card games took place when the men were off duty.

Jinks assumed the barracks would be empty tonight since all the guards would be occupied looking for him. They wouldn’t expect he’d come slithering back onto the property. They no doubt figured he was running for his life, trying to put as much distance between himself and Sal as possible. Had Jinks been a normal man, that was more than likely what he would have done. Jinks wasn’t a normal man. His drives weren’t that of normal men, his motivations weren’t the same. It wasn’t his need for survival that propelled him, but his desire to take revenge. He needed to silence the laughter.

When he stepped into the backyard, he saw lights at the houseboat and spotted people hoisting Reggie’s body onto the boat. Though they were farther along than he’d expected, they’d be busy for a while. He should have plenty of time to do what he needed to do. Keeping to the shadows, he followed one of the meandering paths lined by hedges, stone walls, and boulders meticulously placed by landscape architects. When he came within sight of the barracks, he stopped and listened for a good while, trying to determine if there was anyone moving around inside the building. When he was convinced it was safe, he tossed his walking stick into the bushes.

He’d already stashed his wet clothes back on the trail, deciding that carrying them around was more of a hindrance than anything else. He kept only the jeans and boots he was wearing, his shotgun, and the Bowie knife. He stripped off the tarp poncho, aware there was no way he could fight in that awkward thing if it came to that. Rambo had managed it, but he wasn’t sure he could. He stuffed the crumpled garment into the bushes where it wouldn’t be spotted and limped toward the house. He was naked from the waist up, the short shotgun leveled at the door and ready to fire. He no longer felt the cold.

He limped up the porch and pressed his ear against the door in one last attempt to determine if the building was occupied. When he heard nothing, he twisted the knob. It was exactly like he expected. They didn’t lock the door since there were so many of them coming and going so frequently. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The place reeked of cigarettes, stale beer, wood smoke, and garlic butter. The smell made Jinks realize that it had been a good while since he’d eaten anything, and he’d burned a lot of calories simply trying to stay alive.

Jinks wanted to explore the kitchen and find something to eat, but he had more looming threats to his survival than starvation. He needed warm clothes and better weaponry as a start. He already knew from conversations with the security staff that the barracks was blacked-out. The windows had been covered with aluminum foil, the seams sealed with duct tape to prevent light from escaping. For that reason, he felt comfortable turning on his tiny flashlight and using it to explore the unfamiliar space.

There was a long dining table to the left that didn’t appear to be used for dining. There was an oil lamp burning, a partially completed puzzle, and the rest of the table was covered with supplies for cleaning guns. A row of coat hooks on the wall provided Jinks with a moment of victory. He found a thick down parka and pulled it over his bare torso, zipping it all the way to his neck. His body immediately began to warm for the first time in hours. It was a moment of victory and pure ecstasy.

Jinks was also pleased to see that the floor beneath the coat rack was lined with spare boots. There were cowboy boots, snow boots, mud boots, and tactical boots. Shopping for new footwear couldn’t have been easier. He went down the row until he found a pair his size. They were tall muck boots with rubber bottoms and neoprene tops, like farmers wore. They might be heavy and clunky, but they’d also be warm and dry. Jinks counted this as another win, neatly placing his wet boots in the space vacated by the pair he’d stolen.

One wall of the barracks had a fireplace with a metal insert that allowed it to function like a woodstove. That was the main source of heat, but it wasn’t the thing that interested Jinks the most. He was staring at the wall alongside the fireplace, the one with the veritable arsenal. Clearly the people living here took their jobs seriously and it wasn’t only their coats and boots they needed to keep handy. They also wanted their weapons ready to go at a moment’s notice.

An impressive rack system made the weapons display look like something from a gun store. There were a few empty slots that must have held the weapons the security team was currently carrying, but otherwise the wall was bristling with weapons and magazines. There were shotguns and unfamiliar tactical rifles, stubby weapons that looked like machine guns from movies, and an impressive selection of handguns. There were machetes, fighting knives, and everything in between.

Jinks went to the handguns first, having lost his when he rolled off the deck of the houseboat into the river. He selected one that looked halfway familiar and stowed it in the empty holster on his belt. He drew the weapon, ejected the magazine, and found it was full. He chambered a round, re-holstered it, and picked up a half-dozen spare mags from a tray beneath the rack.

A lot of the long guns were daunting to Jinks. He’d shot an AR style weapon before, but some of these were variations with fancy optics or targeting lasers he didn’t understand. He picked the simplest of the ARs, one with basic iron sights, and confirmed the magazine was loaded. He chambered a round, started to get more magazines, then realized he didn’t have anywhere to put them. There was no way all the gear he was picking out was going to stay in the shallow pockets of his new down jacket. As he was looking for a pack or bag to stow them in, he noticed the row of ballistic vests on heavy wooden hangers.

“Well, lookie there,” he muttered. “That might be exactly what the doctor ordered.”

Jinks examined several of the vests, uncertain if they were simply spares or if they had some specific purpose he didn’t understand. When he found one that contained both body armor and a full loadout of magazines, he slipped it off the hanger, shocked at the weight of it. How the hell did people move around in those things? It weighed more than his backpack when he was carrying both food and water.

He ducked his head through the center hole and draped the weight of it fully onto his shoulders, impressed at the way the weight was distributed. He shifted it around, then spent a minute figuring out how to secure the thing onto his body with the various Velcro panels. Once he had it fastened, it fit well even though he was wearing it over a down jacket. He felt like he could fight and move in it if he had to. His injured leg would be much more of an impediment than the vest.

The thought reminded Jinks that he might need to do something about that bum leg before he went any further. Surely they had some kind of medical supplies in here beyond the tiny blowout kit mounted to the ballistic vest. He backed up and scanned the wall, then spotted the telltale red cross on a hard plastic case tucked into a row of ammo cans lined up on the floor. Jinks grabbed the case, placed it on the table, and flipped the lid open.

He needed access to his hurt leg, but didn’t want to drop his pants to his ankles. That was definitely not a combat-ready position to be caught in if the guards burst into the room. When the pants leg refused to roll up, Jinks used the Bowie to slit it up the side and cut it off just below his knee. Removing the t-shirt he’d wrapped around his leg earlier wasn’t as easy. Clotting blood had embedded the matted shirt into the wound.

There was a squirt bottle of saline solution in the med kit. Jinks tore the plastic seal loose with his teeth, then doused the filthy t-shirt and wound. Even drenched with the saline, the shirt didn’t want to come off easily. Frustrated, Jinks gripped a loose edge and yanked with all his might.

He couldn’t restrain the cursing that came from that dumb move. It was so painful his eyes watered, his vision faded, and for a moment he was certain he was going to faint. He cracked his eyes open and the wrecked condition of his leg only made him more lightheaded. Desperate to shock himself back to clarity, he got a bottle of alcohol from the kit, unscrewed the cap, and dumped it onto the seeping wound.

It was exactly what he needed. Although his body was immediately consumed by fire, Jinks didn’t shy from it. He’d been in the wrong state of mind when he yanked that t-shirt off his leg. He’d tried to fight the pain and that was a mistake. Pain was familiar and comforting, like being reunited with an old friend after a long absence. Jinks relaxed, embraced the sensation, and kept pouring until the bottle was empty.

He tossed the empty bottle to the side and removed three gauze pads from the kit. He tore open the paper packets, pressed the pads to the gunshot wound, then strapped them down with a rolled bandage. He used more gauze to gingerly press loose flaps of skin back in place, then strapped them down with more rolled bandages.

To make sure everything remained in place during what was sure to be a physically active night, Jinks wrapped two rolls of tape around the leg and called it done. Part of him wanted to find a backpack and cram it full of medical supplies, food, ammo, and all the other things he’d need to start over, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Escape wasn’t his primary goal for the evening. It was vengeance and retribution. If he survived the night, if he earned his freedom, he’d return to the barracks and take what he wanted.

One part of his brain was also watching the clock inside his head. He realized he might not have much time before someone returned to the barracks. The men who’d carried Reggie to the boat would be cold and wet. Once they’d performed their little death ritual, once they’d shown the boss how broke up they were over the death of his son, they’d no doubt be back here for warm clothes, and perhaps a shot of liquor to brace themselves against the night ahead.

That thought made Jinks realize two things in quick succession. One, he needed to do his best to cover the fact that he’d been here so the guards wouldn’t search the grounds for him. And two, he could damn sure use a drink himself.

Uncertain of what to do with his discarded medical packaging, he crammed everything back into the medical kit, latched it, and replaced it beneath the gun rack. He tried to return everything else to orderly fashion, hoping the security guards wouldn’t notice what he’d stolen. When he deemed it suitable, Jinks hit the kitchen.

He spotted the source of the garlic butter smell immediately. There was a pan of leftover garlic bread on the stove. He crammed a piece in his mouth. It was hard as wood and had probably been there for hours, but it was damn good. Jinks chewed while searching the cabinet. When he found a bottle of George Dickel, he grinned.

“Hot damn, it’s Dr. Dickel.”

He took a long pull off the bottle and returned to the living room. He slung his rifle around his neck, checked that he had everything, and headed out the door, bottle in hand.

30

When the security team returned to meet Dan and Holly on the dock, they were in dry clothes. They had no clue that they’d only missed Jinks looting their barracks by minutes. They didn’t notice anything out of place—not the missing weapons, the missing boots, the missing garlic bread, or even the pilfered bottle of George Dickel. They were too enraged and too blinded by bloodlust. Too mission-focused.

They were armed to the gills and ready for a fight. They were no longer residential security or executive protection. They were mobbed-up hunter-killers with a target to pursue and clearance to do whatever was required to drag Jinks back to their boss kicking and hopefully screaming. They were running the show now, determined to avenge their friend and satisfy their patron. Dan and Holly were just around for the ride, two more guns willing to lend a hand.

“Here’s the plan,” TJ announced when they were all gathered on the dock. “My people will split into two teams. One will follow the subject’s last known direction of travel, the trail along the river. The other will take the public street and parallel Team One’s position. The hope is that one of us will flush him out and drive him toward the other. Communicate your positions so we don’t end up firing on each other. The next dead body I want to see is the bastard who killed Reggie, not one of you.”

“What about us?” Holly asked. “What do you need us to do?”

“I want you two to patrol the grounds. I’ve got two guys with Sal and the rest are going outside the wire with me. I need someone securing base camp.”

Dan frowned, wanting to be out tracking Jinks, not babysitting the estate. “Dude, we know Jinks better than anyone.”

Holly held up a hand to silence Dan. “Copy that, TJ. Anything you need. We’ll keep an eye on home base.”

TJ nodded. “Appreciated.”

Less than a minute later, both security teams were loping off in nightvision devices and carrying the thermal scope they’d recently turned over to Holly. While she understood why they needed it, she hated giving it up. She and Dan had nightvision devices, but had no ability to detect heat signatures hiding in the shadows.

“I don’t know why you shushed me,” Dan complained once the two of them were left alone. “I’ve got my own shit to settle with Jinks.”

“It wasn’t the time to argue, Dan. Sometimes the best way to assist someone is to do what they ask and not be an obstacle. Any time he wasted arguing with you was that much longer the search for Jinks would be delayed. This was the best way to help, even if it wasn’t at the tip of the spear.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Dan Slaughter, ass end of the spear. Otherwise known as the shit end of the stick.”

“Let me know when you’re done pouting and we’ll get on with our job.”

Dan scowled, then got to his feet. “I wasn’t pouting.”

Holly didn’t challenge him on that, knowing it was pointless. She stood and joined him. “Let’s get started.”

One of the two guards left watching Sal had gone to the maintenance shed on the property and returned with a hand-cranked winch. He was currently in the process of attaching it to the houseboat in hopes of drawing it back to its previous mooring against the dock. He passed up Dan’s offer of help.

“Patrolling the grounds is the priority,” he said. “I can handle this.”

Holly shot Dan a look. “Determined to get out of this duty, aren’t you?”

“Just trying to be helpful. Moving that boat is a big job.”

They’d been on the estate long enough to have a basic idea of how the security team normally patrolled. Holly made sure to cover those bases, and also added in a few tricks of her own that she didn’t think were part of the normal routine. After passing through open areas of the estate, she and Dan would pause at the next concealed position and watch the area they’d just passed through.

“If someone was hiding out and waiting to make a move, they’d probably do it once we passed,” she reasoned.

“I get that, but I’m not big on this whole business of walking around and making a target of myself,” Dan said. “It just invites someone to kill me.”

“Well, hopefully not, Dan. Hopefully, we’re alert enough to keep that from happening.”

Dan looked around doubtfully. “I don’t think it’s a matter of alertness or even skill. The deer back home are pretty stealthy and still get shot by fat, clumsy hunters eating Moon Pies in deer stands every year. It’s the nature of the game.”

Holly blew out an exasperated breath. “Would you like to go back to the boat and let me do this myself? I’d be a hell of a lot more effective without your nonstop jabbering. You ever think how distracting it is when you’re being contrary like this? When I’m busy arguing with you I can’t be focused on my surroundings.”

Dan looked around, then back at Holly. “Hell no, I don’t want to go back to the boat. How about we split up? Then I might actually feel like I’m doing something instead of just following you around like a puppy dog.”

Holly gave him a long look. “We need to stay in contact if we do that. We can’t be operating in the same area independently of each other or one of us is going to get hurt.”

“We’ve only got the one radio.” Dan pointed at the one on Holly’s vest. “And I don’t know where they keep them. I can be trusted to not shoot you if that’s what you’re worried about. How about we just agree to be careful and leave it at that?”

Holly looked doubtful.

Dan sighed, understanding he had a reputation for not always being careful in the past. “Listen, Holly, I tossed my weed in the river a few days ago to prove that I was willing to take our safety more seriously. I didn’t go cold turkey just to be a dumbass and shoot you.”

Holly gave up. Dan wasn’t trained and he wasn’t a tactician. He wasn’t used to operating as part of a team. These days he wasn’t even used to following rules and behaving in a somewhat civilized manner. Maybe she needed to turn him loose and let him do what he did best. After all, he’d somehow managed to track down his friend Carl’s killers in an unfamiliar city, just like he said he would. Maybe it was time to let Dan be Dan again.

“Can we at least agree to rendezvous back on the dock every hour to check in?”

Dan sheepishly held up his arm. “No watch.”

“Be careful then,” Holly warned.

“You be careful. I kinda love you or something.” Dan turned around and walked off.

Holly stood there a moment stunned by Dan’s spontaneous affection, then resumed her patrol, heading off in the opposite direction of Dan.

31

Jinks couldn’t hold back a grin. It was amazing what a warm coat and a bottle of liquor could do for a man’s disposition. While it wasn’t as satisfying as taking a life, it was a good start. Renewed by this small victory, Jinks’s internal battery had perked up from about ten percent power to fifty. He could work with this. He might even have a chance in hell of surviving.

While he’d found a warm coat, a nice set of body armor, and upgraded his weaponry, there was still the matter of the personal property he’d left on the dock earlier. The clothes and food he carried in his pack were replaceable. Even the guitar could eventually be replaced with a comparable model. It was the loss of those personal mementos that would be unbearable. Leaving behind those reminders of the women he’d killed would be like a buried splinter that would aggravate him for the rest of his days.

For some singer-songwriters, their body of work consisted of the music and performances they left behind. For Jinks, that collection of drivers licenses was it. That was what he had to show for a lifetime spent on the road. Those were his memories of the bus rides, days spent hitchhiking, or the road trips in his personal vehicles. Those were the reminders of the nights spent in the back rooms of bars, the cheap hotel rooms, or on the couch of a sympathetic acquaintance willing to offer him a place to stay for the night.

Sure, he had the memories, but the recollection of those moments in time was made sweeter when he could flip through those licenses and relive the moment. He could see the faces, immerse himself in those honey-colored vignettes and watch them play out in his head like they were scenes from classic movies. Of course, those movies were nothing like the ones shown on Turner Classic Movies. They were scenes of dark psychological horror acted out by Jinks himself and by whichever poor woman happened to have crossed his path that night.

From a concealed position in the landscaping, he watched the security team leave the houseboat, then return to their barracks. He correctly assumed they’d be gearing up to hunt him. That guess was confirmed when the men streamed out of the barracks a few minutes later in fresh clothing and carrying more weapons. They jogged toward the dock, then split up and headed in separate directions. Jinks lost count of the men and, more importantly, couldn’t tell if his former traveling companions were among the group.

Krin wasn’t a fighter, so Jinks assumed she’d remained behind on the houseboat. Dan and Holly were fighters, though of a different caliber than the paid security on the hunt for him. Jinks didn’t know which group was more dangerous. Each presented their own level of threat. Since he couldn’t make any assumptions about how many guards remained behind, he’d continue to move cautiously, as if there could potentially be an enemy around every corner.

Once the main security element dissipated, Jinks headed toward the dock, toward the position where he’d left his backpack and guitar. He made no effort to hide. Despite his wary nature, Jinks suspected that most of the guards had left the estate to try and find him. He knew they wouldn’t leave Sal alone, so he likely had one or two men with him. He was the guy who signed the proverbial paychecks. Without Sal, there was no job, no pipeline of supplies coming in the from the cartels, and no more sweet ride.

While he was walking toward the dock Jinks almost ran head-on into Dan and Holly.

Even in the low light of a waning moon, he recognized them from their familiar profiles. Despite the short time they’d been acquainted, he knew the way they walked and the unconscious formation they fell into when it was the two of them walking and conversing together. Jinks hid and waited for them to pass. Even when they’d gone past his position, he remained on high alert. Some primal sense warned him that it wasn’t safe. Jinks wasn’t sure if that sense was something everyone had, or only those like him who were more attuned to their dark, predatory nature.

Only when that inner radar told him it was safe did Jinks break cover and resume his journey toward the dock. With his injured leg, he skulked in a manner akin to the stalking posture of a dog, coyote, or wolf. He avoided the open areas of the estate, sticking to the tree-lined paths or the woods themselves until he neared the end of the dock that pointed up the inlet. That was the way he’d approached the dock in his earlier attack and would deliver him to the place where he’d left his pack and guitar.

He followed a weedy game trail, then awkwardly hauled himself onto the far end of the dock. Once he was on the dock, he remained seated, taking in his surroundings. At the other end of the dock, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet from where he sat, a single man with a come-along was slowly winching the houseboat back toward the dock. Back to where it sat before Jinks cut the mooring lines.

He wasn’t all that concerned about the man at the moment. His position was hidden by the structures along the dock. There were wooden storage boxes that held chairs, life jackets, ropes, and other boating gear. There were wooden benches and stacks of chairs for lounging in the summer. A row of kayaks was lashed against the side of a shed, alongside a rack of paddles. There was a boat lift for removing smaller boats or jet skis from the water.

The one thing Jinks didn’t see on the dock was the thing he was most intent on finding, the one item he’d returned there for. That singular possession was the touchstone of Jinks’ inner life and focus—the backpack containing his collection of licenses. It was his catalog of debauchery, his memoir of murder.

Jinks’ guitar was sitting exactly where he’d left it and for many a musician that would have been a tremendous relief. They’d have been shouting to the heavens for having been able to retain that one thing that was most important to them in the world. For Jinks, however, music was not his primary drive in the world. It was a means to an end. It was an excuse for traveling the country and a cover for that one thing he did best.

He was so rattled by the absence of his pack that Jinks pulled himself to a standing position and limped down the dock. The man at the other end was so focused on his work that he wouldn’t have noticed if Jinks was riding toward him on the back of an elephant. He was immersed in the task at hand, as was Jinks.

Once he’d cut the distance between him and the man to half, Jinks could better see the situation due to the propane camping lantern illuminating his work area. In the glow of that light, Jinks spotted a shape on the dock he thought might have been his pack. As he got closer, he saw that it was indeed his pack, but not in the condition he’d left it. It had been dumped out on the dock and his belongings scattered. They’d searched his things. They’d defiled his world.

Jinks let the rifle in his hands hang from the sling and slipped the Bowie knife from its sheath. It was the only one of his original weapons he’d retained, and it was also the one that had drawn the most blood. Before the man on the winch could sense his presence, Jinks limped toward him at his top speed and swung the heavy knife with all his might.

The blade flashed in the lantern light before sinking into the man’s neck just above his right shoulder. The heavy blade and the force of the blow sank it deep into his neck and partly through his spine. If Jinks had swung any harder, he’d have completely decapitated the security guard. The man immediately went limp and dropped off the edge of the dock without a word. The air in his lungs kept him afloat for only seconds before he gurgled, disappeared into the dark water, and was gone.

Jinks limped over to the remains of his gear and dropped to his knees. In the light of the hissing lantern, he swept his fingers through his belongings in search of his most treasured possession. When he didn’t find it among the dumped items, he picked up his pack and groped inside it for the zippered pocket. His hopes were dashed when he found the pocket was no longer zipped. It was empty. Jinks urgently shook the pack like he was he was trying to get the last French fry out of a fast-food bag. Nothing was left inside. His trophies were gone.

Part of Jinks wanted to scream with anger, to bellow his outrage to the far ends of the Earth. To a person traveling this dark nation on foot, their pack was their world and the closest thing they had to a home. Jinks’ home had been robbed. It had been defiled. If he had to, he’d kill every last person on this estate until he found what had been taken from him.

He spun around slowly, taking in the position of the boat now that the winch had moved it. It wasn’t close enough to the dock that he could reach it yet, but it could be shortly. Rather than risk getting soaked again, he manned the winch and resumed working the handle. With each pull, the mechanism drew the massive houseboat a little closer to the dock.

Jinks worked urgently, aware that at any moment he could be discovered by someone on the boat or by some member of the security team. He turned the lantern off, not needing it for the repetitive task of pulling the winch handle over and over again. He hoped the darkness might buy him some time if he was discovered. Time perhaps to raise a weapon and shoot whoever had the misfortune of stumbling upon him.

Fifteen minutes later he had the houseboat within feet of the dock. The gangplank was missing and the boarding ladder that hung over the side was thirty feet from the dock. Jinks was done winching, and he’d just have to find another way to board. The deck stood several feet above the level of the dock. Jinks removed his rifle and body armor, then slid them onto the deck as simply as a man stowing a blanket on the top shelf of his closet. He tried to jump and grab the chrome deck rail, but there was no jumping with his stiff, swollen leg. He dragged over one of the chairs sitting on the dock, stood in the seat, and that mercifully gave him the height he needed to reach the railing.

Once he had hold of the railing, he swung his lower body up and hooked a leg over the side of the deck. Even though he performed the action with his good leg, it put enough strain on his bad one that pain flared inside him like gas logs bursting to life. That pain brought a burst of strength that propelled him over the edge of the deck, where he rolled beneath the railing and lay there on his back He stared up at the night sky for a moment, waiting for his head to clear, waiting for there to be something inside his head beyond the blinding, all-consuming red beam of pain.

Once there was room in his mind for other thoughts, he understood the urgency of not lying there in the open. In fact, this was the exact spot where he’d killed Reggie earlier and the man’s blood still stained the deck. Despite the fact that this wasn’t the first time Jinks had come to his senses in a puddle of blood, he wasn’t concerned about that. He was only concerned about not being found there and sent to a watery grave, as had very nearly happened earlier.

He sat up, pulled on his body armor, and secured the Velcro panels. He used the railing to get to his feet, then retrieved his rifle and confirmed the selector was in the Fire position. Being safe with a rifle only mattered if one cared about the safety of those around them. Jinks didn’t. If he got forgot his trigger discipline and accidentally sent a stray round into someone, oh well.

He carefully worked his way toward the stern of the boat, pausing when safety glass ground beneath his boots. That explained the tarps covering the large windows that normally would have looked into the main cabin. He wondered if he had shot those out when he fired on Sal.

Afraid that grinding glass might give him away, Jinks circled the stern end of the deck and started up the opposite side of the boat. The windows there were intact, and Jinks didn’t have to go far before he was able to peek inside and get a view of what was happening in the main cabin.

Sal stood by the table where they’d only recently shared dinner, which was now being used to display Reggie’s dead body. Sal and one of his guards were using washcloths and buckets of water to clean river mud from the body. That seemed like a waste of time to Jinks when they could simply have thrown Reggie overboard and let the river do the work of disposing of him. He’d never understand people and their sentimental attachment to others of their kind. The only other person in the room besides them was Krin.

“Bitch,” Jinks hissed. “I hope you know that you caused this. Standing there looking all concerned. You don’t care about anything but yourself.”

She was holding that damned dog of Sal’s in her arms and that pissed Jinks off too. Obviously, she was capable of affection and caring, just not toward him. That clearly showed him where he stood on the hierarchy of value among this group, and it was nowhere near the lofty position that dog held.

“Stupid mutt.”

Jinks thought for a moment about throwing up his rifle and opening fire through the glass, but glass had some effect on fired rounds and he didn’t know how that might impact his aim. If he missed, his gunfire would draw the others and he’d quickly be outflanked. He had a fighting chance against the three in the boat, but less of a chance if the entire security team returned. He needed to make sure the odds remained exactly where they were. He’d had a plan for that earlier and it had almost worked.

Jinks returned to the starboard side of the houseboat and freed the mooring lines. Soon enough, someone would notice that the boat was moving, just as Reggie had earlier. Jinks wanted to be ready for them when they did. He awkwardly climbed the ladder and positioned himself on the upper deck, right above the main cabin door. When someone came out, they’d be directly in his sights.

32

Holly was frustrated with him, but Dan was used to that at this point in their relationship. Their dynamic was complicated. He understood that, psychologically speaking, he was a moving target, so Holly didn’t always know which Dan she was getting. Drunk Dan was one thing; Stoned Dan was another. Sober Dan was a whole different ballgame.

He was aware it wasn’t fair to put her in that position. Simply being on the road, trying to stay alive, was stressful enough. That was why he’d pitched his weed into the river. While he wasn’t necessarily giving up on “that” Dan, Holly deserved him at his best while they were trying to make their way to East Tennessee. After all, even at his best, he was a bit of a challenge.

Despite trying to be a better version of himself, he’d struggled to follow along behind Holly on patrol. She didn’t need him for backup, and he was bored out of his skull. She just wanted him there so she could keep an eye on him. She didn’t want him to get killed, but she also didn’t want him to do anything stupid. The problem was that their methods varied so wildly she considered a lot of the things he did to be stupid, especially in situations that fell more in line with her skillset as a cop.

Certainly her tactics might lead them to Jinks, but Dan had other tools in his toolbox. As weird as it was for him to admit it, he probably had more in common with Jinks than anyone else in their group did. It wasn’t that he was a serial killer or whatever kind of freak Jinks branded himself as, but Dan was “different” too. He had an unconventional mind that didn’t follow the most common path between two points.

Holly was purely a black and white person. Things were right or wrong to her. Her mind only had two boxes and nearly everything she encountered fit into those boxes. The thing she failed to understand was that this way of thinking put her in the minority. Their host, Sal, definitely lived in the gray zone. Was Holly forgetting that they were staying with an organized crime figure and working with his goon squad to try and track down Jinks? She was more in the gray right now than she would ever want to admit.

Jinks was the greater evil here, but as nice a guy as Sal was, he had a checkered history. He and Holly would have been on opposing sides in the old world. Beyond that, how weird was it that Sal was in league with the cartels, and they were delivering more aid to the heartland of America than anyone else?

They weren’t doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. It was business for them, winning the hearts and minds of the locals, just as they’d done throughout Central America. The cartels might be ruthless and brutal, but they also handed out microwaves, turkeys, and other gifts in their home countries. People remembered that stuff. They were easily bought, and Americans would be the same way. Give them food, electricity, and a little comfort and they’d do anything you asked.

Dan wandered a path around the estate for a while, like a roaming deer hunter hoping to stumble upon a deer. Nothing crossed his path. He sat down on the edge of a concrete fountain drained of water, a mildewed angel hovering behind him. She—Dan thought it was a she—wasn’t like any angel representation he’d seen before. Instead of a harp, this one carried an AK-47.

Overcome by curiosity, Dan played his flashlight across the angel, aware that this might not have been the most tactically sound choice. Tattoos covered her body, except for the wings. Dan couldn’t tell if she was tattooed beneath the wrap that covered her loins, though he did kind of wonder. Moss hung from the barrel of the angel’s rifle, making Dan think that was where the water had come from when it was flowing. On the angel’s face, there were three teardrops tattooed beneath the corner of one eye.

Dan flicked the light off and pondered what he’d been looking at. He had not stumbled across this statue before. Sal must not be a devout Catholic like some Dan had come across before. There was no way those people would have gone for anything like that. Maybe Sal was also like Dan, adhering to his own path and his own set of values.

Realizing that he needed to get his head back in the game, Dan tried to put himself in Jinks’ head. What would he do if he were in Jinks situation? Thinking in that manner led Dan down the road of thinking about the killers he’d seen in movies and on television. Maybe they’d underestimated the importance of the trophies Jinks carried in his pack. That could be the thing he wanted the most. His hatred for Dan, Holly, Krin, and anyone else on the estate would be secondary to getting those trophies back.

Jinks didn’t know that Holly now had that collection of licenses in her pack. He probably assumed they were still sitting on the dock in the pack he’d left there. Dan jumped to his feet and rushed off toward the dock. He wished he had a radio so he could let Holly know what he was thinking. There was no way he was wasting time looking for her when Jinks could already be at the dock.

When Dan reached the dock, Jinks wasn’t there. More importantly, neither was the houseboat. Dan stared down the inlet and spotted the hulking shadow of the massive boat just as the current twisted and pulled it into the main body of the Missouri River.

Dan felt like an idiot. Jinks had done the same thing to them twice and they’d let it happen. Hopefully the men guarding Sal could deal with Jinks. Surely by this point they were aware that the boat had been cut loose and was floating downriver. With the minimal current in the inlet, it had taken them a while to figure out earlier, but the massive swing the boat was undertaking now would certainly get their attention.

Dan heaved out a sigh of frustration. There was no way he was running down the trail fast enough to keep up with the houseboat. Besides, even if he did intercept it, how could he board it? Dive into the water and hope for the best? He’d taken that route before saving Sal’s dog and it nearly cost him his life.

He looked around the dock, noting Jinks’ pack and its contents spread out where Holly had dumped them. No doubt Jinks saw that and was pissed off. Then Dan spotted the kayaks. Yeah, it was a stupid idea but when had that ever stopped him before?

He whipped out his knife and cut loose the rope that secured the kayaks to the shed. They rolled into a pile at his feet. Dan picked one, then selected a paddle from the rack. Although he wasn’t adept at this, he had kayaked and canoed several times in his life. He let his rifle hang from the sling, grabbed the drag handle on the front of the kayak, and took off down the dock, dragging it behind him. When he reached the end of the dock, he hopped off onto the riverbank, then pulled the kayak down with him. He stuck the nose in the water, with the back half still sitting on the bank. He climbed in, then pushed the paddle into the mud behind him, shoving the boat forward. Three good pushes and he was floating.

Dan scanned the shoreline with his nightvision goggles one more time, hoping he’d see Holly or one of the other security teams but there was no one. He was on his own this time. Hadn’t this been what he’d wanted earlier when he was having to follow Holly around?

“Careful what you wish for, Dan,” he muttered to himself.

33

The mood aboard the houseboat was somber. Sal was washing his son’s face and hair as delicately as he might once have done when the boy was an infant, as if too much pressure might abrade the tender skin.

It broke Krin’s heart to watch. “You want me to do that for a while? I’m sure Fluffy would enjoy you holding her.”

“This is a father’s duty.” Sal choked up. “His last.”

Sal dipped the washcloth in the bucket, lifted it, and squeezed out the excess water. He paused and his face clouded with concern. “Are we drifting again?”

The guard, a man they called Chooch, shrugged. “Tony was trying to winch us back to the dock.”

Sal shook his head. “I think we’re moving with the current. The boat might have gotten away from him.”

Chooch rolled his eyes. “Fucking Tony.”

“He ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Sal said.

“All brawn, no brains. That’s why I put him on the winch. It should have been a simple thing.” Chooch grabbed his rifle, clicked on his headlamp, then hurried toward the door that led from the main cabin to the deck.

“Bring some wood in on your way back,” Sal called. “Stove’s getting low.”

“Will do.” Chooch closed the door firmly behind him.

Sal offered Krin an apologetic look. “Great bunch of guys. They’ve each got their strong points. Most of them anyway. Some⁠—”

BOOM!

A gunshot cracked through the cold night air and it was too close to have come from anywhere but onboard the boat. Krin screamed, startled by the unexpected shot. Sal dropped the washcloth and threw his good arm around Krin.

“Get to the back of the boat! Lock yourself in your stateroom while I figure this shit out.”

BOOM!

Another shot. Krin recovered from her shock enough that she was no longer thinking like a scared girl. She was thinking like the woman Holly and Idaho had turned her into, someone who fought when cornered, someone who didn’t run and hide.

She thrust Fluffy into Sal’s arms. “You’re injured and can’t shoot!”

It was true. With his dominant arm bandaged and bleeding, Sal might be able to hold a handgun, but he certainly wasn’t in fighting form. He took Fluffy but protested. “I can’t hide and let a girl fight my fight!”

“I’ll let the ‘girl’ comment pass for now, but it’s not just your fight, Sal. This is everyone’s fight. If Jinks is aboard this boat, we all have an ax to grind with him.”

Sal blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m locking Fluffy in my stateroom and I’m coming back. You wait right here.” He trotted off.

As soon as his back was turned, Krin took off. She was already wearing her handgun but didn’t want to waste time retrieving her body armor from her stateroom. She picked up her rifle, slipped on her coat, and made for the door. As soon as she reached it, she saw the guard splayed out on the deck. The lantern light escaping the main cabin revealed a dark, wet wound to the back of his head and a Rorschach of blood emerging from it.

Although Krin didn’t see a shooter anywhere, it surely was Jinks, and he had to be out there somewhere. She dropped a hand to the doorknob, then through the glass saw another hand on the knob from outside. She looked up and found herself face to face with Jinks, who tried to turn the knob.

Krin screamed and latched onto it with both hands, using all her might to stop him from turning it. When Jinks had no luck with the knob, he unleashed a barrage of curses and limped back two steps from the door. Krin thought she’d won until he raised his rifle.

Krin screamed again and shoved backward, falling to the floor. Jinks fired two quick shots, shattering the safety glass in the door frame and showering Krin with shards of glass. She was on her back now, pushing with her legs in a futile attempt to gain distance away from the doorway. Her legs shoved uselessly against the loose glass. At the same time, her hands instinctively worked to bring her rifle into the fight. It wasn’t training but pure survival instinct at this point. She brought the weapon around and thumbed the selector to the Fire position, praying she already had a round chambered. She pointed the weapon at Jinks and pulled the trigger.

34

Jinks thought he had Krin when she hit the floor, but he hadn’t expected her to be so quick with bringing the rifle to bear. Once he’d shattered the window his plan was to stomp inside, grab Krin by the hair, and drag her back through the doorframe lined with shards of glass. After his experience with the window frame earlier, he thought being raked over broken glass was a pleasure everyone should get the chance to enjoy. Jinks wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Krin once he got her outside, but it started with pain and ended with her body sinking into that dark river.

After Krin fell, Jinks prematurely lowered his rifle, slipped his upper body through the jagged opening in the glass, and found himself staring down the barrel of Krin’s rifle. He screamed and shoved back out the opening, chunks of safety glass shredding the sleeve of his toasty new jacket. Then Krin fired and a round whistled by his head, missing him by inches. That was quickly followed by another and another.

Jinks lurched behind a steel beam and cursed himself for underestimating Krin. It had almost gotten him killed. Though he didn’t dare expose himself, he stuck his head close to the edge of the beam, cocking an ear and listening. Inside the boat, he heard glass crunching against the floor; Krin was on her feet now. He assumed she was fleeing so he chanced a quick glance around the corner. She was indeed in full retreat now, barreling through the main cabin, back toward the staterooms.

Jinks spun around the corner and snapped his rifle up. He got off one hasty shot—a miss—and was lining up a second when a round pinged off the steel only inches from his head. The bullet shattered on impact and razor-sharp fragments of hot lead embedded themselves in his forehead and scalp, barely missing his eyes.

“Shit!” Jinks screamed, whipping back around the corner and slapping a hand to his forehead. It came back coated in warm blood and he cursed himself. He’d been so focused on Krin that he’d missed that old bastard, Sal. The guy had been standing at the end of the main cabin, covering Krin’s retreat, and he’d nearly given Jinks a third eye in the center of his forehead.

Jinks shrieked a war cry, stuck his rifle around the corner, and blindly pulled the trigger as fast as he could. Rounds pinged off steel, shattering glass, and splintering flooring. His chances of hitting anyone were slim, but he needed an outlet for his rage. When his mag ran dry, he ejected it and shoved in another from his vest. After a moment of fumbling, he dropped the bolt release, chambered a fresh round, and leaned against the support beam, chest heaving.

He didn’t hear anything from inside the main cabin now but there was no way he was going inside. That open space, so well-lit from the lanterns, would be a death trap if he was caught in there.

The lanterns.

Jinks grinned, recalling the pleasure of burning his sisters to death. It would be a fitting end for these folks too. The large houseboat was primarily steel, but not entirely. There was oak flooring throughout the main deck and interior walls that were framed with wood. There was furniture, carpeting, curtains, and who knew what other combustible materials that he couldn’t see? Ideally, materials that produced choking smoke and toxic fumes.

With a smile on his face, Jinks leaned around the corner and carefully sighted his rifle on one of the wall-mounted oil lamps. He squeezed the trigger and the rifle fired. The glass lantern shattered, spraying burning oil onto the wall. It ran down to the floor, spreading flames as it went.

There were three more of those lanterns mounted on the walls of the main cabin and Jinks took them all out with a half-dozen more shots. To his satisfaction, the fire was spreading along the floor and igniting the rugs. Krin and the old man would smell the smoke soon enough and Jinks imagined it would flush them out the rear door of the cabin. He intended to be there waiting for them.

Before he could head in that direction, the boat began to turn broadside to the current. They were in the main body of the river now. No one would be coming to the rescue.

35

While the lumbering houseboat was at the mercy of the current, Dan was at the helm of a sleek watercraft capable of attaining pretty decent speed on the water, even when piloted by someone as inexperienced as he was. A bit rusty, he flailed at the water in the beginning, looking like a man trying to beat a chicken to death with a rake. He quickly got the hang of it, the technique coming back to him with the familiarity of riding a bicycle, and soon he was in hot pursuit of Sal’s houseboat.

He’d have felt a lot more comfortable with a good spotlight mounted on the front of his boat. The binocular effect of the nightvision affected his depth perception and the weird phosphorus glow was disorienting. It was like being trapped in a bad dream where everything was “off” just enough that you knew it wasn’t reality. The only problem here was that everything around Dan was indeed real and the consequences were potentially fatal.

There was a burst of gunfire on the boat and Dan flinched. At first, he thought it might have been directed at him, but he didn’t hear the impact of a round slapping against the water anywhere near him. He had a moment of thinking he might be safe there in the dark, then he wondered if Jinks might have nightvision too. Maybe he could see Dan just as clearly as Dan could see the boat he was pursuing. The thought made Dan shudder, but he didn’t slow. He paddled even faster, cold water running down the paddles and beneath the sleeves of his jacket.

Another minute or two passed before more shots were fired. Dan was gaining on the boat. He was close enough that it occurred to him he had to board the vessel. Earlier, they’d dropped a boarding ladder over the side when the gangplank was lost. He hoped it was still there. It was possible that one of the mooring lines might be trailing in the water, but Dan wasn’t so delusional to think he could monkey up one of those and reach the deck. No, it would be more likely that he’d just slowly slip back into the water until he was being towed behind the boat like some poorly designed fishing lure.

After what sounded like a short but intense battle, there was a lull in the gunfire. Dan quit his frenzied paddling and coasted on the current for a moment. The houseboat was utterly silent for a moment, then someone fired a single shot. With this shot, Dan noticed something change onboard the vessel. For most of the pursuit, the interior of the main cabin had glowed faintly from the oil lamps that illuminated the main parlor. With this last shot, that glow changed. Several more shots all but extinguished the faint light for a moment.

When the glow returned, it flickered like Dan was watching a wood stove through the glass door. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. Jinks must have targeted those oil lamps and started a fire. Dan blew out an exasperated sigh and paddled harder. The interior of the houseboat was now brighter than it had ever glowed from the lamps. One of the tarps he and Holly had stretched across a broken window earlier caught fire and melted. Smoke even darker than the night sky poured from broken windows.

Although Dan’s paddling wasn’t graceful, he was gaining on the houseboat. Spray from the upraised end of his double paddle hit him in the face. More water soaked his jacket sleeves and ran nearly to his armpits. He had a moment of clarity where he understood Holly and the security team also would have heard all those shots, but what good did that do him? The boat was leaving the estate grounds and it was in the middle of the river. Even if they came running, they weren’t going to be able to catch the boat.

It was Sal and Krin’s misfortune that the only person coming to their aid was Dan, the least trained in combat and shooting. He probably had the worst judgment in the heat of battle than anyone outside of Krin and Fluffy the dog. He hoped those aboard the houseboat were saying a prayer because they were going to need all the help they could get.

“Where’s the ladder, Dan?”

He was talking to himself, hoping it would help him think through the situation. He was closing in on the boat and needed to figure out how he was going to get onboard. He started to paddle down the starboard side, knowing that was where the ladder had been earlier, then the boat did something unexpected.

Due to some factor beyond Dan’s awareness, the boat yawed sideways to the current. Maybe there was some kind of weird feature to the river in this spot, an eddy or something. It was even possible there was an issue with the steering of the boat. Perhaps the rudder was directing the boat into a spin.

Dan mumbled a curse then saw something that raised his spirits. With the boat broadside and the starboard side now directly in front of him, he spotted the boarding ladder hanging in the opening where the gangplank had once been. The bottom of it trailed in the current and he’d be able to reach it. He paddled with renewed energy, desperate to reach the ladder before the boat spun even further. If that ladder ended up on the downstream side of the boat, reaching it in the small kayak was going to be a lot tougher. Dan didn’t have the strength, coordination, or balance to stand up in the kayak and reach the railing. Without the ladder, he’d be dead in the water.

Aware that overthinking could lead to missed opportunities, Dan dug in and charged forward. In his head, he imagined gracefully pulling alongside the houseboat, scrambling up the ladder, and landing on the deck like an action hero ready to take on an army. It didn’t happen that way. Dan did efficiently pull alongside the large houseboat, then the current pushed his kayak against the larger vessel and threatened to capsize it. The graceful dismount Dan had planned became a desperate attempt to latch onto the ladder before he got dumped into the river.

Dan dropped his paddle and grabbed onto the ladder with both hands. He quickly found that pulling himself up the ladder from a sitting position while carrying a rifle and a fully loaded plate carrier was not as easy as it had been in his imagination. Some people trained for this. He trained to drink as much as possible without getting a hangover and trained to smoke as much weed as possible without falling asleep. Neither of those training regimens prepared him for the task at hand.

There was a moment of panic when Dan realized this all had to be accomplished with upper body strength until he could get his legs on the ladder, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he had. Fortunately for him, there was no greater stimulant than the adrenaline dump that came from fear of imminent death. Dan gritted his teeth and managed to haul himself up three rungs of the ladder before he attempted to get his feet underneath him in the seat of the kayak. That lasted all of one second before he lost his balance and the kayak shot forward, leaving Dan hanging from the ladder, his feet trailing in the water.

To his credit, he didn’t panic. He had a good grip on the ladder and understood it was only a matter of getting his feet beneath him, then he could climb the boarding ladder. It took him several attempts, but he finally got one toe on a rung. Shortly after that, both feet were securely resting on the ladder. Only then did he breath again, his heart pounding in his ears like a freight train.

Climb! Don’t just stand here like an idiot!

Dan didn’t use positive self-talk, but intense self-cursing, and in this situation that was the most effective. It unfroze his legs and prompted his muscles to begin moving.

“You’re not on a boat,” he told himself. “This is just a stupid ladder in a stupid living room and you’re changing a stupid light bulb.” Yes, he was willing to shamelessly lie to himself if it helped him accomplish what was required.

When Dan got high enough that he could see over the edge of the deck, a horrific sight awaited him. He folded his nightvision goggles up out of the way and took in the scene. The main cabin where they’d spent so many comfortable hours socializing with Sal and Reggie was fully engulfed. A person could weave among the flames, though they’d likely succumb to smoke inhalation before they made it out of the room. As far as extinguishing the blaze and saving the boat, that seemed impossible at this point. Sal’s beloved houseboat would soon be totally gutted.

Dan realized that was a stupid thing to worry about. Sal’s son was gone and Sal might also be gone by this point. With all that gunfire, Dan had no idea who was dead and who was alive. Before he hauled himself the final steps up to the deck, he took one last look around, making sure Jinks was nowhere in sight. Then he caught movement in his peripheral vision and noticed Jinks limping along the railing toward the stern of the boat. Obviously, he hoped to flush any survivors out the back door by the staterooms.

Dan had a perfect shot at the moment. He had just enough light to see his target and Jinks was positioned so that Dan could put two rounds between the man’s shoulder blades before he even knew what was happening. The only problem was that his rifle was trapped between his body and the boat, and he didn’t know if he could make the shot with his handgun. He pulled himself up the last few rungs of the ladder, rolled himself onto the deck, and popped up to his knees, shouldering his rifle. Jinks was gone. He’d disappeared around the corner before Dan got into position.

Dan struggled to his feet, cursing himself fifty different ways. Without a thought as to risk of the situation, he headed off after Jinks, taking the same route the injured man had used to reach the rear of the boat. Along the way, Dan stepped on piles of glass, blown out from the windows. Each time it ground beneath his feet, he winced, certain the sound would give him away. He’d stop in his tracks and wait for a moment, basking in the heat of the burning main cabin before proceeding.

About twenty feet from the end of the walkway, Dan considered what might await him around the corner. He had his rifle shouldered, finger resting lightly on the trigger, ready to fire as soon as he spun around the corner. What if Krin and Sal were there, perhaps being held at gunpoint? He didn’t just need to be ready to fire, he needed to be aware that he might have to carefully pick his target first. Why couldn’t things be easy?

Dan sucked in a breath and tried to blow out the nerves. He took another step and paused. Something felt off. He spun around, considering for the first time that Jinks might have circled the other side of the boat and come up behind him. Thankfully the coast was clear. Nevertheless, the feeling lingered, gnawing at him like a persistent, unshakeable hunger.

He took another step, then something occurred to him. Dan stepped toward the railing and looked upward. Jinks was leering down at him from the upper deck. No, not from the upper deck, but from somewhere in between decks. From a position in midair as he fell toward Dan with his Bowie knife in his hand.

36

Despite Sal’s injuries, Krin thought they had half a chance against Jinks. He was injured also and he was only one gun against their two. Then they smelled the smoke and knew all bets were off. A fair fight was impossible against a psycho who was willing to kill himself in order to make sure they went down too.

“Bastard set my boat on fire!” Sal groaned. Jinks was still firing into the main cabin. Sal threw open his stateroom door and chanced a look in that direction. The flickering light told him all he needed to know. “We have to get out of here.”

“We go outside, he’ll kill us,” Krin said. “We need to rush him.”

Sal huffed. “I like your spirit, little girl, but I can barely walk and I ain’t sending you out there alone.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Get Fluffy!”

Krin picked up the little dog and drew her handgun. Sal gestured for Krin to follow him into the hallway and they retreated toward the back of the boat. There was a door there that led out onto the deck.

Once they were outside, Krin said, “There aren’t many places to hide out here. What’s your plan?”

Sal searched the floor, then found what he was looking for. He worked his fingers into a crack, then swung up a hinged section of teak flooring. A steel hatch cover came up with it. “Get in!”

“Shouldn’t we be getting off the boat? It’s on fire!”

Sal nodded patiently. “I know it’s on fire. Just trust me. We can’t jump overboard in this cold water. It’s too dangerous.”

Krin likely couldn’t swim with the dog in her arms and there was no way Sal was swimming after taking a buckshot round from Jinks earlier. She put her trust in Sal and headed toward the hatch.

Sal lit a tiny flashlight from his cartel stash and directed the beam down into the hole. A ladder led down to a steel catwalk inside the hull. Krin carefully climbed down, the waited for Sal to follow. He started down, then closed the hatch cover above them.

“What is this place?” Krin asked when Sal was safely on the catwalk.

“Engine room.” Sal leaned against the ladder while he caught his breath. Sweat beaded his forehead. He played the light around the cramped space.

“I thought the engines didn’t work?”

“They don’t.” Sal directed the beam of his light toward a series of stainless-steel cables running through pulleys. “The steering cables work. Even if we can’t reach the helm, we might be able to beach this whale. Might get us close enough to shore that we won’t have to swim the whole damn river to escape.”

Krin nodded eagerly. The space around them was already getting stuffy from the fire burning in the main cabin. The interior of the steel hull was like a Dutch oven and they were the main course. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You keep a hold on Fluffy and let me deal with this.” Sal grabbed hold of a steel cable. “I’m not sure which cable does what, Krin, so hold onto something.”

With her free hand, Krin latched onto the ladder she’d just climbed down. Sal took hold of a cable and tried to move it. Nothing happened.

“Damn thing is froze up,” he said. “Been sitting too long.”

Sal looked around and spotted a long screwdriver sticking out of a bucket of tools. “Can you reach that?”

Krin handed the screwdriver over and Sal wedged it into the spokes of a pully. “Ready?” he asked.

She renewed her grip on the ladder and nodded. Sal grunted and applied pressure to the pully. This time it yielded, and they felt the boat change course slightly.

“Wish I could see where we were going,” Sal complained.

“You need me to climb up and take a look?”

“Not right now. That prick might be up there waiting on you.”

“I feel like we’re moving sideways, Sal.”

“I can’t tell.” He studied the pullies. “Let me try this one.”

Sal cranked on another pully in the same manner and this time they both felt the results. “Feels like we’re going downstream in the right direction, but I can’t tell if we’re steering toward shore or not.”

“I need to take a look,” Krin said again.

“I’ll take a look.”

Krin’s frown was visible in the low light. “No offense, Sal, but you’ve got one good arm. There’s no way you’re hanging off that ladder while you open that hatch. You’ll fall and kill yourself.”

While Sal understood she was right, he wasn’t happy about it. He shot out his arms to take Fluffy. “Do it but be careful. If you see him, shoot him.”

Krin smiled. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll shoot on sight.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to see anything anyway. Maybe the shadows of the trees or something.”

Just as Krin started to climb the ladder, there was a loud thump on the deck. She looked at Sal with wide eyes. “What was that?”

“No idea.”

“You think the upper deck is starting to collapse?”

Sal looked scared. “I hope not. If something falls on that hatch, we’re trapped in here. If that fire gets hot enough, we’ll bake like a couple of potatoes.”

37

Dan lunged to sidestep Jinks, but there wasn’t enough time. He didn’t even have time to let out a decent curse before the man dropped on him like a two-hundred-pound feed sack. Dan’s nightvision gear was raked down over face, smashing his nose. His rifle sling gave way and his rifle clattered across the deck. His neck wrenched sideways and his spine compressed as he fell beneath Jinks’ weight. As he was falling, Jinks tried to plunge the big Bowie knife into Dan’s back only to have it stopped by his body armor. The two of them hit the deck hard, trapping both the knife and Jinks’ hand beneath Dan.

Dan’s head smacked the deck, stunning him. Pain signals flooded his nervous system. He was at the age where sneezing could leave him in traction, so catching the full weight of a human body dropped from overhead was way more than he was prepared for. He tried to curse, but the breath had been knocked out of him. He gawped like a fish, sucking in cold, smoky air. The pad switch on his weapon light was activated when he dropped his rifle, triggering the strobe function. Between the fire and the rapidly flashing light, the scene was like something out of a psychedelic horror movie.

During the fall, Jinks smacked his head against Dan’s nightvision and he was rattled too. He tried to tug his knife from beneath Dan’s back so he could saw it across his throat, but the knife was stuck, the razor-sharp tip embedded in the ceramic backplate of Dan’s body armor. Intent on striking before Dan recovered, Jinks gave up on the knife and yanked his hand free. He struggled to push up, needing to put enough space between them that he could throw a punch.

Jinks’ movement stirred Dan. Even though his head was still scrambled from the fall, the instinct toward self-preservation kicked in. He needed to fight back or he was going to die. Like a boxer trying to gain a minute to clear his head, Dan wrapped Jinks in a clinch and held on tight. His hands found each other behind Jinks’ back and he clasped them together. Jinks was locked against Dan’s body with one arm trapped between them and the other stuck over Dan’s head.

Jinks wriggled and bucked, trying to pull loose from Dan’s grip. Were Dan bare-handed, Jinks might have succeeded, but Dan was wearing tactical gloves. They weren’t the best protection in the cold but they sure as hell improved his grip. He held on tight while Jinks fought with increasing fury.

When he couldn’t break loose, Jinks used his free right hand to start smacking Dan on the head with his fist. Although he couldn’t get enough distance between them to punch, the blows weren’t comfortable for Dan. Jinks tried to get a hand around to Dan’s face, probing to hook his fingers in Dan’s eyes, but the displaced nightvision made it difficult. Jinks unleashed a cry of rage, latched onto the nightvision goggles, and ripped them from Dan’s head.

Low on options, Dan lashed out with a headbutt and split Jinks’ forehead. Stunned, Jinks renewed his effort to hook his fingers beneath Dan’s eyelids. Then Dan remembered he’d already put a bullet in Jinks’ leg earlier in the night.

Dan shot a leg out to the side, raised it in the air, and brought a heel strike down on Jinks’ calf. Apparently, he found the correct leg on his first attempt because Jinks nearly deafened him with a bloodcurdling shriek. To Dan’s ear, that scream was like a card player yelling “hit me again” so he did. By the third heel strike, Jinks was no longer concerned about hooking Dan’s eyes. He was pushing with all his might to try and break loose from Dan’s grip.

Finally, Dan released his hands and shoved Jinks hard. Jinks rolled to the side, his face wracked with pain. Dan dropped his hand to his holster, ready to draw his handgun and put a round in Jinks’ face, ending this for good. When his hand fell on an empty holster his heart sank. It must have been dislodged during the fight.

Afraid to take his eyes off Jinks, Dan groped blindly around the deck and couldn’t find his handgun. Then he spotted it in Jinks’ left hand. While Dan had Jinks in a clinch, Jinks must have gotten a hand on the pistol but hadn’t had room to draw it. Jinks grinned in the flashing light, his blood-covered face cold and determined. He began to raise the weapon. Then Dan’s hand fell on the slim wooden grip of the Bowie knife.

There was no time to think. Jinks had switched the handgun to his right hand and his finger was on the trigger. He was raising the weapon, taking aim, and at this distance he wouldn’t miss. Dan gripped the Bowie and threw himself to the left while swinging it. The knife arced through the air between the men so fast Jinks didn’t see it coming and had no time to react. The tip of the blade struck the handgun just below the trigger guard. The three fingers Jinks had curled around the grip fell victim to his own obsessive sharpening and were severed with surgical precision.

Jinks was already taking up pressure on the trigger when Dan swung the knife. The gun fired, but the impact of the heavy blade against the grip threw off the shot and it went high, barely missing Dan’s head. Jinks was startled when the handgun flew from his grip. He had no idea why that had happened until he spotted his three fingers spurting blood in the flash of the strobing weapon light.

“Noooooooooooo!” he screamed.

Dan came around with a backslash but only caught air. Jinks tried to draw his own handgun but his damaged hand, slick with blood, was unable to grip the weapon. He gave up and shoved backward, trying to put some distance between himself and Dan. Dan rolled forward, crawling, ready to behead Jinks, but he was too far away. Dan swung the Bowie anyway, catching Jinks in the side of his shin.

The knife was heavy and the blow was hard. When Jinks tried to shove with that leg it folded sideways in a manner for which it was never designed. Jinks screamed and Dan was on him. He pinned Jinks head to the deck with a single bloody hand to his forehead. Dan stuck the point of the knife to Jinks’ throat, ready to drive it forward like Jinks was a fall hog ready for butchering. Before he could do it, a strong hand hooked his elbow and stopped him.

Blind with rage, Dan screwed his head to the side, eyes wild, blood boiling. He was preparing to yank his hand loose when he saw Sal’s determined face only inches from his.

“He’s mine, Dan! He’s mine!”

Dan’s body heaved with the exertion of the fight. He understood who Sal was and what he wanted, though he was struggling to interpret the words.

“He’s mine!” Sal repeated.

Finally, Dan understood. He kept Jinks’ head pinned to the deck and handed the bloody Bowie knife over to Sal.

“You want his throat?” Dan asked.

Sal shook his head. “Too quick and merciful.”

Sal flipped the knife in his hand until he was wielding it with the spine facing forward and the sharpened edge facing the rear. Dan didn’t understand what Sal was doing until he swung hard and brought the heavy spine of the blade down on Jinks’ knee, shattering the knee cap. Jinks’ screamed and Sal grinned. The man’s pain was music to his ears.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Sal gestured at Dan to get off Jinks. “Give me some room to work.”

Dan rolled off, stood, and backed away. He picked up his rifle and turned off the irritating strobe light. The fire burning inside the houseboat gave Sal all the light he needed for his “work.” He wielded the knife like a man who’d done this before.

Krin had stood quietly on the periphery of the scene until this started and she couldn’t watch it any longer. As much as she hated Jinks, she didn’t have the stomach for torture. Dan wasn’t sure he did either, but he couldn’t pull himself away. He had to know that Jinks died at the end of this. He had to know that this fight was finally over, and they could put their time with this man behind them.

At one point, when Jinks still had the ability to speak, he experienced a moment of clarity and his whimpering sobs turned to laughter. “You know, we ain’t all that different, the three of us. We might have been friends in a different world.” Bloody saliva ran from both corners of his mouth.

“I ain’t nothing like you, you piece of shit!” Sal roared.

“I’m proof you are,” Jinks said, his words malformed from missing teeth and a throat raw from screaming. “We’re men with violent hearts. Men willing to take a life. If we’d been switched at birth, any one of us could have turned out like the other.”

Sal silenced Jinks with a heavy punch. Once he started again, he didn’t stop. It took a lot to satisfy Sal’s pain over his dead son. When Jinks regained consciousness, he sobbed and screamed for Sal to kill him.

Dan rested a hand on Sal’s heaving back. “Maybe it’s time to end this.”

Sal drew back the knife and started to slit Jinks’ throat, then thought better of it. He straightened up and tossed the knife overboard. “I think I’ll let him drown.”

Dan offered to help roll Jinks into the water, but Sal had his own technique. Two dozen solid kicks put Jinks under the rail and over the edge. Jinks was too broken to stop it. Perhaps he welcomed it at this point. Dan was sure he would have.

Sal was sweating and breathing hard. Steam rose off his body, caught in the firelight.

“Your people are coming, Sal,” Krin said, appearing at their side. “I can hear them yelling. They’ve seen the fire.”

“Are we close to the shore?” Dan asked.

Krin nodded. “We ran aground a while ago, but it’s too hot to walk up either side of the deck. We’re going to have to climb off the back.”

“There’s a swimming platform,” Sal breathed.

They used their flashlights to navigate their way to the back of the houseboat. Just as Sal described, a short ladder led a few steps down to an aluminum swimming platform. Dan went down first, then he and Krin helped Sal. They were about twenty feet offshore and uncertain of how deep the water was. Dan was about ready to jump in and test the depth when Holly and the rest of the security team appeared onshore.

“What’s the situation?” TJ shouted.

“Jinks is dead!” Dan called back. “We just need to get off here. It’s starting to get toasty.” Indeed, the fire was roaring behind them, pumping clouds of black smoke into the night.

One of the security team stripped down to his underwear. Krin found a coil of rope in a deck box and they tossed it to the team onshore. They tied it around the waist of the half-naked man and he waded into the water. He was up to his neck and shivering by the time he reached them.

They took Sal first. He held onto the guard while the rest of the team hauled on the rope, then they did the same with Krin. Dan was the last to go, holding Fluffy high above his head so she wouldn’t end up soaked like the rest of them. Once everyone was on dry ground, they determined it was more important to get a fire going and try to warm everyone than to hike back to the estate while soaking wet.

Sal, Krin, and Dan were wrapped in foil survival blankets while the team built a massive bonfire. The wrecked houseboat also put off a significant amount of heat, but they made the call to hike a short distance away before building their fire. There was propane and diesel on the houseboat.

Two of the security team jogged back to the main house and returned a half-hour later with blankets and warm clothes for Krin, Dan, and Holly. Once everyone was dressed in dry clothes and warm enough to walk, they returned to the estate.

38

When Dan awakened the next afternoon, he felt like he had been dragged behind a truck. He could easily have gone back to bed and slept through the day entirely, but Holly wasn’t having it. She whispered into his ear so not to wake the rest of the people staying in the estate’s guest house.

“I don’t want to overstay our welcome. Sal has been gracious, but we brought death to his doorstep. While we’re not responsible for the things Jinks did, I feel bad that he showed up with us. We need to get on our way so Sal can get on with healing, as much as that’s even possible.”

Krin rolled onto her side and joined the conversation. “I don’t know if he’ll ever heal,”

“I’m not sure I can heal either,” Dan said. “I’m pretty jacked up. Jinks wrecked my back when he dropped on me off that upper deck. I feel like I’m one bend away from total paralysis.”

Holly held up a bottle. “They have quite the pharmacy here. One of the guards hooked me up with muscle relaxers and pain pills. It should be enough to get you through the next leg of our trip.”

Dan yawned and ran a hand over his hair. “What is the next leg? You think Sal’s offer of a ride home is still good?”

Holly nodded. “He and I talked about it after you passed out last night. He sent a guy up to the racing garage and asked them to have a vehicle ready tonight. We’re going home tonight.”

Dan was left speechless by that piece of information. For so long, the prospect of home had been abstract. He remembered his house in Tennessee in painful detail but hadn’t been certain he’d ever see it again. It was like some golden, unattainable fantasy. A memory that could never be experienced again. Like that perfect date when you were seventeen years old, or that perfect walk in the woods with the sun coming through the trees in just the right way. Like that Christmas Day that was absolutely everything you wanted it to be.

“You okay?” Krin asked Dan. “For a minute, it looked like your hard drive crashed.”

“Yeah, it’s just a little hard to grasp. When do we leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together,” Holly said.

“Most of my stuff burned up on the boat. I have the things I was carrying on my back and that’s about it.”

“Don’t worry about that. Sal’s people are going to set us up with a couple of packs and enough supplies for a few days. They’ll restock our ammo so we don’t get in a pinch if we run into trouble on the road.”

“They’ve done a lot already.” Dan sighed. “I wish there was more we could do for them.”

“Maybe one day,” Krin said. “If the world gets back to normal, we can pay Sal a visit and see how he’s getting along.”

Dan smiled. “I can bring him some moonshine.”

He sat up on the inflatable mattress where he’d spent the night, wincing when a nerve was pinched between two vertebrae. It took a moment before he could breathe again. “I might need a couple of those pills first. What’s the most I can take without croaking?” He held his hand out for the bottle.

Holly held them beyond his reach. “I’ll be dispensing them. Considering your history and all.”

Dan groaned then held out a hand. “Fine then. Start dispensing.”

An hour later they left the property under the escort of Sal and several armed guards. When they’d tried to talk Sal out of making the trip, he wouldn’t hear of it. Dan understood that it wasn’t necessarily out of a desire to say goodbye to them, but because he needed to stay busy and didn’t want to be left back at the estate, alone with his thoughts. There was considerably less conversation on this trip. The jovial atmosphere of their first journey into the city was gone. Everyone was simmering in their own stew of pain, bad memories, and uncertainty. There was an abrasive, free-floating anxiety that all of them shared.

Dan was relieved when they reached the racing garage and were allowed through the gate. For as much as he liked Sal, the mood of the walk into the city had been oppressive and suffocating. The darkness of their collective suffering magnified every ache and pain in his body. Despite the pills, even the pounding of his footsteps on pavement felt like someone hammering his aching back with a mallet. For most of the walk, Dan had wanted to lie down in the bushes and be left alone, like some old dog wandering off to die quietly in the woods.

Tater Yancey appeared genuinely glad to see them, yet his excitement was tempered by the events of the previous day. Whoever had come into town last night and told him to prepare a vehicle had also relayed the news that Reggie was dead and the houseboat had burned. When they were halfway across the large parking lot, Tater headed straight for Sal and wrapped him in a hug.

“My old friend. I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do...”

Sal choked up but managed to maintain his composure. He gestured at Dan’s group. “There’s one thing you can do and you’re doing it for now. I appreciate you, my friend.”

Tater left a hand on Sal’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Do you need help tracking down the man who did this, Sal? I’m not a soldier, but I’m at your disposal. All my resources are yours.”

Sal shook his head. “It’s done. It’s taken care of.”

Tater nodded somberly. “Vengeance doesn’t make our days any easier, but it’s the right thing to do. It sets the world in balance and gives us closure.”

Dan understood the truth of those words. He’d felt those same things when he took on the people who killed his friend Carl. Those memories were so distant they seemed to have taken place years ago, in another life entirely. Yet those memories weren’t so far away and indeed would never be. Some things a man did couldn’t be shoved in the closet. They were with you always, like a scar or a tattoo.

Dan couldn’t help but think back to the things Jinks said. He’d implied several times that there wasn’t much that separated men like Dan and Sal from a man like him. There was some truth in that. Some men had the ability to step across the line and do the dark things that society frowned on, then step back into the light and behave in a manner that was more socially acceptable. Other men stepped across that same line once and never returned.

Even if you did come back into the light, even if you did brush the smell of death off yourself, there was no hiding where you’d been. The fact that Jinks saw parts of himself in Dan and Sal proved that. Even Holly saw and understood it.

One more thing Dan would dwell on for the rest of the way home, then for years to come, was how easy it had been to step out of the light. Once he had come back, he understood that the barrier between good and questionable was never as substantial as it had once been. It was easier to cross each time. Should Dan feel the need to draw blood again, regardless of where or why, he’d lose no sleep over it. With every trip into the darkness, he left a little light behind. With every trip, he carried a little more darkness back with him.

“Thanks for everything,” Dan said, hugging Sal with a genuine affection. “I’ll never forget meeting you.”

“Thank you for saving Fluffy,” Sal said.

The little dog stuck its head out of Sal’s shirt and licked Dan’s finger.

After everyone said their goodbyes, Sal and the security team started their walk back home. Once they were outside the gate, Tater and his people helped Dan, Holly, and Krin load up for the trip. They got a short, prepared speech on how the vehicle operated and what to expect on the journey. Thirty minutes after stepping into the garage, a roll-up door was opened, and their vehicle crept out the door. It was a mid-70s Chevy Blazer with all the trimmings.

“I can’t even believe we’re getting into a moving vehicle,” Holly said. “It’s surreal.”

“Wait until we’re on the tracks,” said the driver, an enthusiastic guy in his sixties named Red. “It’s like being on a roller-coaster ride that goes on for hours.”

“Ooh!” Krin said. “That sounds fun.”

Holly and Dan looked at each other with trepidation. For them, it was another ride into the unknown. It meant being exposed to all the things that could possibly go wrong when they were outside the wire. While they were excited about the faster mode of transport, they weren’t ready to call it “fun” yet.

Within a few minutes, they were on the tracks at the rear of the property. Red squared up the vehicle and dropped the railgear. “You guys buckled up and ready to go?”

Dan was as nervous as if he was sitting in a rocket on a launchpad. He and Holly were in the back seat, while Krin sat up front with Red. Dan reached over and squeezed Holly’s hand. The urgency with which she returned the squeeze told him she was experiencing some of the same apprehension.

Red hit the gas. Dan saw the accelerator quickly climb up to fifty miles per hour. Like riding on the train a week ago, every mechanical means of transportation now felt like being onboard a jet.

“You guys settle in and take a nap,” Red said. “Assuming all goes well, I might be able to have you close to home by morning.”

39

Despite the speed with which they traveled, it felt like the night went on forever. Red wore nightvision goggles for driving so the headlights wouldn’t draw attention, but the sensation of barreling through the darkness chewed on Dan’s nerves. Like Red had told them, it was similar to being on a rollercoaster, except with the sensation of barreling through a dark tunnel and not knowing what lay ahead of them.

They were all relieved when the sun began to rise and they could see their surroundings again. Red had stopped several times during the night for bathroom breaks, but otherwise he kept the pedal down. Dan had seen him swallow a few pills, which he assumed were some kind of stimulant to keep him alert.

“Where are we?” Dan asked, looking around through the windows. “I don’t recognize anything from the tracks. The terrain looks like Tennessee.”

Dan no longer had the backpacking GPS from Kyle’s bunker. It had been in his backpack, lost in the fire. Red had one, however, and he pulled it from a dash mount and handed it back to Dan.

Dan took a gander at the screen and what he saw there left him dizzy. “Geez, we’re home.”

“You okay?” Holly asked. “Your voice sounds weak.”

“Because I can’t breathe, dammit. We’re almost there.”

Holly patted Dan on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’d hate for you to come this far and stroke out. Take a deep breath and try to chill.”

Dan handed the GPS back to Red, who examined the screen again. “It’s a couple of miles to the point where I’m supposed to turn you out. I’m too beat to turn and burn. If your home isn’t too far off the tracks, I could drive you there and crash at your place for a few hours before heading back. That sound okay?”

“Assuming I still have a place, I’d be glad to let you crash there. Drive to the next railroad crossing and I can guide you from there.”

A gravel road crossed the tracks in a few miles and that was the point where Red had previously planned to let them out. He raised the railgear then steered off the tracks onto the gravel road.

“You got a chainsaw in here?” Dan asked. “We’re about seven miles from my house and I have no idea what the road is like.”

Red grinned. “I’ve got a chainsaw, a winch, snatch blocks, you name it. I’m prepared for the worst.”

As it was, they needed none of it. The locals, Dan’s neighbors and townspeople, had kept the roads clear so they could use horses, bicycles, and whatever other modes of transportation they’d come up with since the lights went out. The road certainly wasn’t in the condition it had once been. There was one place where the shoulder had collapsed from a mud slide and another where a boulder had dropped onto the road, but Red was able to skirt by both those hazards.

After twenty minutes of slow traveling, Dan raised a hand and pointed to a break in the woods. Everyone, including Dan, was shocked to see the finger was trembling. “That’s my road. Turn there.”

Red signaled, then turned off. “Not sure why I do that. Habit, I guess. Not like there’s anyone else on the road.”

Dan hadn’t even heard it. He was craning his neck around to see how his community had changed. The temperature outside was in the fifties and they’d run the heat for most of the night. Dan lowered the window and stuck his head out. It not only looked like home, it smelled like home.

“That…house…there,” Dan said. “Turn in the driveway.”

The first thing Dan noticed, even from a distance, was that there was smoke coming from the chimney.

“Someone is home,” Holly pointed out. “Could be your kids.”

“Or not.” Dan hadn’t been able to stop himself. Months of caution and assuming the worst had driven him there. Whatever awaited him, he would know soon.

The driveway was long, the house set far back from the road. Gravel crunched beneath their tires as they coasted down it.

“Stop here,” Dan said. They were maybe seventy feet from the house.

“There’s no cars in the driveway,” Krin said.

“My truck is at the Knoxville airport,” Dan said. “Let me out.”

Red climbed out, flipped the lever to tilt the front seat forward, then stepped aside as Dan worked his way out. The awkward maneuver was almost more than he could manage with his back pain and it showed on his face. Despite his excitement, he was hurting. After a moment of hesitation, he reached back for his rifle. It might be his kids in the house, but it might not be.

“Whoever is in there has to hear this vehicle,” Red said. “She’s not exactly quiet.”

Dan started toward the house. “Noted.”

Krin let Holly out on the other side. Everyone remained behind at the vehicle, sensing this was something Dan had to do alone. This was his moment. This could be the end of his journey.

Dan kept his rifle low as he walked. Part of him wanted to call out, while another part of him was afraid to. If his kids weren’t inside, where did his life go from here? Did he go after them? That was risky. What if they were heading home and he missed them on the road? And if it wasn’t them in the house, who was it?

He couldn’t make himself go there. This had to be one day at a time. One second at a time.

A window on the second floor slid open. It was the room above the garage. Dan stopped.

“That’s far enough!” a voice shouted.

A rifle barrel jutted out the window. Dan froze in his tracks.

“Drop the gun!” a voice called out from his left.

It came from behind the woodpile. Someone had slipped out of the house and taken cover behind it. Dan was…proud.

He lowered his rifle to the ground, then carefully reached up and removed the cap from his head. He swept his long hair back from his face and looked toward the woodpile.

“That you, Taylor? It’s Dad.”

Dan’s daughter stepped clear of the woodpile, a shotgun in her hands. She lowered the barrel toward the ground as she stood there in shock. She raised one hand to her mouth and burst into tears. She propped the shotgun against the woodpile and whispered, “Daddy?”

Dan opened his arms. “Come here, baby.”

She bolted toward him and into his embrace. Through his tears, Dan looked back at the second-story window and saw it was empty now. A few seconds later, Kevin came running around the house. He was crying too, and it wasn’t the restrained emotion of an adult, but the unhindered and shameless sobbing of a child who’d thought all was lost.

The sight of his son’s tears cracked Dan like broken a dam and everything within him spilled out. Soon it was him sobbing the loudest of all, wailing an apology that he hadn’t been there for them over the past six months. Then his apologies went back even further, and he expressed his regret for how he’d behaved since their mother died. As he’d always known, once he began apologizing for his shortcomings, it was hard to know where to stop.

“Stop!” Taylor moaned. “We all did the best we could. We still are.”

“You don’t know how glad we are to see you, Dad. We tried to remember everything you taught us, but it’s been hard. It’s been so hard.”

“There’s so much to tell.” Taylor pulled her head away from Dan’s chest, wiping tears from her eyes. “We’ve had to do things, Dad.”

Dan stroked the back of her head. “We all have, baby. We all have.”

Then Dan remembered he had not come here alone. He didn’t dare break loose from the hug he’d waited so long to claim. He twisted his head back toward the vehicle and the pain in his spine nearly dropped him to his knees. His eyes would have watered had they not already been pouring tears.

His companions stood in the driveway watching the reunion, not a dry eye between them. Their expressions were complicated, each of them wearing a mixture of relief, sympathy, and even envy.

“Kids, these are my friends. These are the people who’ve kept me alive and helped me get home.”

They reluctantly broke off their hug and introductions were made.

“Krin and Holly will be staying with us for a while,” Dan said. “Red will be here long enough to get some sleep, then he has to head back to his home.”

“How does he have a vehicle?” Kevin asked. “We haven’t seen a working vehicle since the lights went out.”

“And what are those things on the front of it?” Taylor added.

Dan smiled. “We’ve got a lot to talk about and a long story to tell. We came from Kansas City last night using the railroad tracks, which is why that Blazer has the rail adapter on it. As to why Red has a running truck, that’s a very long story.”

“Got a place I can pull this thing where it might be out of sight of the road?” Red asked.

Dan gestured toward the house. “Pull her around back. It should be fine there.”

Krin and Holly collected their gear and Dan’s from the vehicle. Dan already had his arms full again, both of them wrapped around his kids with no sign of wanting to let go.

Dan’s legs felt weak, like he’d gone too long without eating. It wasn’t blood sugar, however, it was his heart reintroduced to something it needed just as much as his body needed food. It was a sustenance that Dan had almost given up on ever receiving again. Those cold nights in Idaho, so far from home, had made this seem like an impossible moment that he dared not ever hope for. Even allowing the thought of it to enter his mind would have paralyzed him with grief and made it impossible to move forward, impossible to survive in Idaho.

With an arm around each of his kids, they walked around the house. “I’m sorry for who I’ve been at times,” Dan said. “I’m sorry if I ever let you down. I’m sorry if there was ever a moment where you wished you had a better dad.”

Dan’s son pointed to a decrepit structure near the back of the property. It was a playhouse Dan built for the kids when they were young. It leaned and yawed now, threatening to collapse if hit with a stiff breeze.

“Why wasn’t that playhouse any stronger, Dad?” Kevin asked.

Dan was taken aback by the question. “I did the best I could with the tools I had at the time.”

Taylor embraced her father. “Exactly, Dad. We all do.”