Dad shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“No sense crying over it now,” Blake said. “We have enough to get us to Colorado. That’s the important thing.”

I sat on the tailgate of Mike’s truck, the warmth of Sophia’s thigh next to mine, and thought about all the gear we had taken from BWT. When we set out, we’d had enough hardware to outfit a small army. Now, we were down to a fraction of what we had started out with, and to make things worse, we were still at best a couple of days away from Colorado Springs. Not to mention the fact a soulless rapist had nearly killed me and driven my stepmother to take her own life. All in all, it seemed our experience with the United States Army had been a shit deal.

“Anyway,” Mike went on. “We’re good on food, water, and ordnance, but we only have enough fuel to get us maybe three-hundred miles if we’re lucky. After that, we’re on foot. Personally, I’d rather not take the chance.”

“What do you suggest?” Dad asked.

“I’ve been monitoring radio chatter from the convoy. They got word from Colorado Springs that I-25 has been cleared all the way south of Raton, New Mexico. My guess is they’re going to go south on 56 for a while, then cut west on 87 and pick up the interstate from there. They have all the fuel and supplies they need to make that trip.”

“Which means what for us?” Sophia asked.

“It means if we want to stay out of the Army’s way, the first thing we need to do is stock up on fuel. Best place to get what we need is Boise City. After we do that, we head north on 287 all the way up to 24 and approach Colorado Springs from the north.”

“What’s between here and there on that route?” I asked.

“Not a whole hell of a lot. Farms and road towns mostly. Anybody living in that area has probably evacuated already. Might be a few holdouts, so we’ll have to be careful. Other than that, it should be an easy trip.” He leaned against the Humvee and crossed his arms, staring in the direction of the convoy. “That said, I’d feel a hell of a lot better about this whole thing if we hadn’t given away damn near all our supplies.”

“Mike, we can stand around whining about what we don’t have,” I said flatly, “or we can get a move on. Personally, I vote for the latter.”

Dad and Mike swiveled their heads in unison. Any other time, there would have been an angry retort from one or both of them. But it had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d buried a woman I loved as much as any son ever loved his own mother, and I could feel the strain of it radiating from me. Consequently, the two men bit down on whatever they wanted to say and simply nodded. Sophia’s hand closed over mine.

“It’s okay, Caleb,” she said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“No, Sophia. It’s not.” I jumped down from the tailgate and opened the driver’s side door. “Are we ready to go or what?”

We went.

FORTY-ONE

 

Hollow Rock, Tennessee

 

“I lost my parents a month after the Outbreak,” Miranda said. She reached up a hand and swatted at a low-hanging willow branch as she and Caleb passed it. “The Free Legion killed my brother.”

Night had fallen, and they were walking back to Miranda’s trailer. Caleb had paced himself with the drinks, but still had a buzzy, glossy feeling in his head. He put an arm around Miranda’s shoulders. “If you want to tell me about it, I’ll listen. No pressure.”

Miranda said nothing for a while. She held Caleb’s waist and leaned against him as they ambled down the street. She’d had nearly as much to drink as Caleb, but possessed less than two-thirds of his body mass to tone down the effect. He had warned her to slow down, but she waved off his concerns with a flick of a long-fingered hand.

They passed the center of town and the general store, then rounded the corner to Miranda’s street before she spoke again. “I’m originally from Nashville. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No. But then again, I never told you I’m from Houston.”

“You told me today.”

“Then I guess we’re even.”

Miranda stopped on the sidewalk and watched two small children chase lightning bugs around a well-tended yard. Their parents sat not far away in lawn chairs, the mother sipping something from a plastic cup, the father holding a rifle in his lap, eyes constantly on the move.

“People don’t talk about that kind of stuff anymore,” she said. “Life before the Outbreak. Family. You might hear someone mention what they did for a living, but that’s about it.”

“It’s not surprising,” Caleb said. “I’ve said it before but it bears repeating—those of us left are still in mourning.”

Miranda turned a bleary-eyed stare in Caleb’s direction. “You know Eric and Allison Riordan?”

“Of course. You know I know them.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Anyway, did you know Eric did his undergrad work at Princeton?”

Caleb’s eyes widened. “No, I didn’t know that. He never mentioned it.”

“Yep,” Miranda said, stumbling a bit. “Majored in accounting. Then he got an MBA from UNC. Apparently they had a pretty good business school.”

“UNC was one of the colleges I was thinking of applying to when I finished my high school work.”

Miranda looked up at him and smiled. “It’s strange to hear you say it like that. ‘Finished my high school work’. Most people would just say ‘when I graduated from high school’.”

“It’s different when you’re home schooled.”

“I can’t imagine what my teenage years would have been like without high school. All my friends, and the football games, cheer squad, the parties, all the rest of it.”

Caleb shrugged. “I don’t think I would have cared for all that. I prefer my own company most of the time. Home school gave me more time to focus on the things I enjoyed.”

“Like training?”

Caleb looked down at her. “Please keep that between the two of us.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, not a word to anyone. You have to promise.”

They had reached Miranda’s front porch. She climbed the first step so she was eye to eye with him, took his face in her hands, and said, “I promise.” Then sealed it with a kiss.

Inside the trailer, they went to the bedroom and changed into nightclothes. Caleb lay down beside Miranda and raised an arm so she could entwine herself around him. He stared at the ceiling in the dim gloom, the pale light through the window revealing more of his surroundings as his night vision kicked in.

“I’m not tired yet,” Miranda said, twirling a finger through the fine sandy-blond hair on his chest.

“Me either.”

“Feel like telling me the rest of the story? If we have time that is.”

“We do. It’ll be late before I’m finished, though.”

“If you’re willing, I’d like to hear it.”

Caleb turned on his side so he was looking Miranda in the eye, her leg draped over his hip, their faces inches apart. His hand moved up and down the smooth curves of her back. “It doesn’t end well,” he said.

“These days, sweetie, nobody’s story ends well.”

Caleb decided he could not argue with that.

*****

Boise City, Oklahoma

 

My father and I drove to a hill overlooking the highway, parked out of sight, and climbed to the summit in our ghillie suits. We watched the convoy pack up and move out, a plume of windblown dust rising from the road in their wake. When they were out of sight, I put down my hunting rifle.

“Good riddance,” Dad said. “Although I will miss Tyrel.”

“Lance and Lola were nice too,” I said. “I hope we see them again in Colorado.”

“Lord willin’. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

I hesitated, and said, “Dad?”

“Yeah? What is it, son?”

“Are you all right?”

He knew better than to insult my intelligence by asking me what I meant, so he said, “I don’t know, son. I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe I’m just too focused on taking care of you. Either way, I’m functional, and I plan to stay that way. I’ll have plenty of time to mourn once I get everyone to safety.”