Without a hot air balloon at their disposal, they had made it out of Portland the next best way: they walked. At first it felt like a futile roundabout journey, and it took them days longer than they had anticipated. Getting across the river was the first challenge. From Portland, they went south, and found an untouched train bridge. Backtracking, they stuck close to the main thoroughfares and realized just how impassable the urban roads could be. Eventually they bypassed the majority of the wreckage, and just past the old Bridge of the Gods on Highway 84, they nabbed their first car. It was an empty mini-van with a full tank, the back seat full of Little League equipment.

It ran out of gas before they crossed the border into Idaho, but they timed it just right and swapped it for a Cadillac sitting in someone’s driveway. When they went inside to look for the keys, they took the opportunity to raid the pantry as well. They acquired some fleece blankets, and a few new pieces of clothing. If the world outside had not been so empty and bleak, they would have appeared as any ordinary family on a cross-country excursion.

Their original plan was to cut across the Idaho panhandle and go straight through to Montana. But blockages, floods, and other unforeseen issues stymied their plot; to top it off, road developers had not accommodated their desires, and they found their travel tedious as they twisted through Clearwater on a path to Missoula.

Darla couldn’t make the car go faster. She could not stop Ainsley’s sulking and Dean’s happy-go-lucky smirk, which he seemed to wear regardless of their situation. She could not navigate them closer to Nebraska, or make their food stretch for longer, or entertain the growing boredom. She could not make them feel the same level of intensity for getting to her son.

And now the Cadillac had a flat.

With progress stalled, everyone’s nerves were raw.

“We’re not going to find another car for miles,” Dean said. “We’re up in the mountains, for Chrissakes.”

“Days,” Darla said, her arms crossed. “We’re losing days...”

“We’ll find something,” Ainsley contributed. She had sat down in the middle of the road and spread her legs out in front of her and began to stretch. Then she leaned backward against the road and stared up into the sky. “We’ll keep plugging along. Toward the people who tried to kill us.”

“You don’t have to come with us,” Darla answered swiftly. Then she rolled her head over to look at Ainsley and dropped her tone, “Seriously.”

“I don’t. But I’m going to.” Ainsley raised her eyebrows with a taunting flair. Then she mumbled, “It’s not the smartest decision we’ve ever made...but you’re not the only one who lost something, alright? Can you give me a break already?”

Darla took a step toward Ainsley, who didn’t budge.

“Can we stop saying that? Losing my wife and my friends was hard enough, that’s true. And I’m sorry about your mom, Ainsley, I am. But this trip is about Teddy. Grant. Nothing more.”

“Sure,” Ainsley replied with rancor. “Nothing more.”

“Wait...” Darla stopped mid-sentence and then pointed off into the hills, the rough direction of Nebraska. “You mean Ethan? You’re trekking across the barren landscape of rural America for a boy?” Darla asked.

Ainsley shut her eyes and drew her mouth tight. She refused to answer as Darla snickered, and then turned back to the car.

“Come on, Dean. Let’s grab our things. We’re walking.”

Ainsley sat up in a hurry.

“That boy is the only friend I have left...in the whole entire world,” she yelled. “Maybe you think that’s stupid, but it’s true.”

“Don’t you even tell me you were falling in love with him or I’m absolutely leaving you in the wilderness,” Darla shouted back, her head buried in the back seat of the Cadillac as she pulled out their collection of canned food, blankets, and the backpacks they’d nabbed from a school playground in Eastern Oregon before crossing the border. They were children’s bags; small and cartoonish, and they sat high on their backs.

Darla slipped her slender legs back on to the pavement and crawled her way back out of the car, and she paused to look at Ainsley; scrunch-faced and sober, unmoving.

“Ainsley,” Darla started. She swept her hair out of her face and then shot a look at Dean, who began putting provisions in the packs. “He was...is...a good kid. I like him, too. But we’re not going back for Ethan. Jesus, you know that, right?”

“Why do you get to call all the shots?” Ainsley fired back. “Why are your needs the only ones that matter?”

“Needs? You listen—” Darla started, but Dean cleared his throat in warning. She ignored him. “I’m on a mission and that mission does not involve Ethan King. Not even for a second. And that guy means a lot to me...you hear that, Ainsley? He means a lot to me. But my own kid means more. A helluva lot more. And if you think for one moment that I’d sacrifice saving Teddy for even a second more with Ethan...you’re out of your hormone-addled mind.”

“Hey. Easy now,” Dean said, playing the diplomat. “Ethan’s not the bad guy here. You heard that boy talk. He thought the saints would come a’marching in, waving the flag of friendship. I know lots of things about boys, especially boys Ethan’s age, and I’ll tell you what, I bet he’s beating himself up every hour for not being able to stop that massacre.”

“Sure,” Darla replied. She grabbed the small puppy backpack and slung it over her right shoulder. “I agree with you, Dean. Now let’s start walking.” She started trudging up the road, the luscious green of the forest a pristine backdrop. Dean followed, but then stopped. He looked back at Ainsley and called for her, but she stayed rooted to the road—the twenty-year-old girl acting out by demanding her space at the most inopportune time.

“What if he needs us?” Ainsley called after them from the ground. She said it fast and flip, not even bothering to move.

Darla took in a deep breath and started to respond, but then she turned away from Ainsley and kept on walking, keeping her eyes focused on the winding road and the river running parallel to them. A breeze blew through the trees; Darla sent up a silent prayer that an abandoned car would be waiting for them around the next bend: one void of decaying bodies and mechanical problems.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Dean whispered and he started to walk back, but Darla grabbed his arm.

“We’re all tired here. She’ll catch up when she wants to.”

“You’re going to leave her lying there?”

“Why not? You think a car is going to run her over?” Darla raised her eyebrows and Dean reluctantly acquiesced.

“It doesn’t feel right just walking on and not at least trying to encourage her to come along,” Dean replied. “I’m the older, wiser voice...”

Darla snorted. But she remained firm. “Keep walking, Dean. Ainsley’s an adult. We’ll be here when she wants to start acting like one.”

They were watchful. The animals were starting to make themselves known, and while most of the forest’s wildlife had steered clear, evidence that bears, cougars, and the less intimidating deer were thriving, not dying, became clear. It was the birds they noticed first. Right after the Release, it was hard to find birds in the sky—but now they were coming back, getting braver, picking at the rotting flesh of the bodies left behind.

It was unexplainable, but they hypothesized that animals in the city had fared worse than their wild counterparts. With that in mind, they kept to the main roads and remained vigilant.

Ainsley caught up to them after twenty minutes. She walked ten steps behind Darla, shuffling her feet, still in her torn jeans.

Behind them, the sun dipped lower in the sky. It was going to get dark soon and they had no place to camp that felt safe and secure, so they trudged onward, winding around the larch trees, the mile markers, the hiking paths.