Page 31

chapter thirty

Emily

Day Seven

In the morning, Charlie was gone. I wasn’t exactly surprised, and maybe I was even a little relieved that I’d no longer have to travel with someone I’d lost all respect for. But I was a little worried for him. There was no future for us as a couple or anything more, and I was fully aware of all his shortcomings—to put it mildly—but Charlie was no match for the state of society right now.

He’d made his choice, however. And perhaps whatever happened to him was well deserved. Hosea told me he’d seen him leaving that morning with the young woman who apparently had access to a usable vehicle—and the desire to head west with a stranded movie star.

Tuck emerged, wearing new clothes and sporting a freshly shaven face, his hair slicked back. And I didn’t want to swoon like a schoolgirl, but I did. No one could affect me like him, no one ever had. And I suddenly felt vulnerable to it, a twist of fear funneling through me. Because until now—and despite Charlie—I’d used the judgment of what I’d deemed Tuck’s flawed character as a shield against my attraction. I no longer had that defense, flimsy though it had become the more time I spent with him. And I had to admit my attraction didn’t stop at his chiseled jaw, or his perfectly formed features. It went deeper than that. He just did something to me that no one else ever had. And I didn’t know how to describe it. I certainly didn’t know how to ignore it. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fight it anymore. Hence the fear.

But I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on all that anyway. Tuck and I had far bigger fish to fry and the continuation of our journey home in front of us.

“Morning,” I said with a smile.

He looked me over, smiling back. “Feels good to clean up, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll never take shampoo for granted again,” I said. The women’s barracks had a hose running off the back of the building and an array of hair products and soaps on a ledge. I’d stepped behind the wooden partition that provided privacy and taken full advantage of them, shivering in the cold morning air but not caring a whit. Then I’d pulled on the clean clothes given to me and almost cried at the absolute joy of feeling clean again.

“Charlie’s gone,” I told him. Headed west with a nineteen-year-old fangirl in her daddy’s car .

“I figured,” Tuck said. “So is the gun. I left it in my backpack in the locker when I was showering and shaving. He must have taken it then.”

My mouth dropped along with my heart. “What?” That rat! Our weapon was gone? Our protection? And if so, of course it was Charlie—only the three of us had the combination to the locker Hosea had given us to store our things. I closed my eyes for several moments. When I looked back at Tuck, he appeared grim but not angry. “You’re not mad?” I asked, surprise clear in my voice.

“I was, earlier when I discovered it. But…there were only two bullets left and honestly, it might be the only way Charlie survives.”

I shook my head slowly. I’d even thought about the fact that I was concerned for his welfare just a few minutes before. But now things would be harder for us. More proof of Charlie’s selfishness. If I’d had any niggling doubts about his character—which I really didn’t—this would have squashed them entirely.

I almost inquired about Hosea possibly replacing the gun Charlie had stolen but changed my mind. Weapons were precious right now, not only as a means of protection, but as a means of food. We’d needed both on several occasions. Now we’d have to do without.

Tuck helped me loop my arm through the other strap of my backpack, eyeing me. “Are you okay?”

“Regarding Charlie? Yes. More than okay. Our parting is for the best. Although I’d like to kick him in the teeth for taking the gun.”

He stood there for a moment as if adjusting to this new reality. “Okay, then,” he finally said. “Hosea has arranged for us to ride with a couple crewmen heading to an army base near the border of Kansas and Oklahoma.”

“Oh. Do they think the government is operational there?”

“They have no idea. Someone here happens to know about that location and it’s in driving distance, so they’re going to sacrifice some fuel and check it out.”

I thought about that. I supposed Hosea and the rest of this crew would check out all possible locations where the military might still be stationed and able to provide some answers if they had a way to look up locations. But as of now, they had to go off guesses and memory. “Life really sucks without Google and GPS.”

Tuck let out a small chuff of agreement.

We traveled in the back of a Jeep for the next six hours, the noise of the vehicle and the wind in our faces making it mostly impossible to talk without yelling. But I found it a good opportunity to come to terms with our new normal. It was just me and Tuck now, a duo where we’d once been an awkward threesome. But more than just a duo, I hoped we could find a way to settle into a partnership.

Both the driver and the gruff older man in the passenger seat carried weapons and though they were armed, I still felt exposed in the open vehicle as we passed by people on foot who waved their arms and attempted to get us to stop.

As we skirted around what I assumed were more populated areas, I could see the smoke rising in the sky. And when we moved more slowly around stalled cars, I heard distant wails that could have been dogs, but also might have been human and I began humming to block the sounds that sent shivers down my spine.

When we arrived at the army base, it was completely deserted. “Damn,” Tuck muttered as we stepped down from the Jeep.

“A dead fucking end,” the older man muttered.

“Thanks for the ride,” Tuck said to the two men in the front who looked as disappointed as I felt. I’d allowed myself some hope that when we arrived, there would be some official organization happening, or perhaps some information.

But at least we were a little bit closer to home.

Hosea had located a map for Tuck and so again, we followed along specific routes, walking out of rural Kansas and into Oklahoma, with New Mexico in our future.

“It’s pretty here,” I said, gazing off into the distance where farmhouses could barely be seen beyond spans of yellow fields, giant rolls of hay dotting the landscape. The cows would have plenty to eat anyway. I thought back to the folks Tuck guessed had been roasting a rat under the city overpass and didn’t let my thoughts wander to the possible fate of these cows. Instead, I hummed some more and occupied my mind with music. It had always been my sanctuary, and that was certainly true now.

The idea made me think about what Tuck had told me the night before, his description of spinning from the loss of his mother, the farm, and life as he’d known it. I’d been so bereft during that time too, and especially when he’d turned away from me, but in the midst of my pain, I’d still had music. What if I hadn’t? What other choices might I have made? Where might I have gone for meaning, perhaps taking wrong turns along the way?

The same way Tuck had. And it opened up a wellspring of understanding in me. And a new level of forgiveness.

It also added context to his deep hurt when I hadn’t believed him on the airplane. Tuck had never hesitated to take blame for something if he thought someone else would suffer more in the fallout—I knew that all too well. He’d done the same thing when Abel died, not declaring his innocence because he saw it as throwing Abel under the bus—again. But he had denied any wrongdoing when it came to Charlie’s drugs, and I hadn’t believed him. How terribly that must have stung.

We’d walked on the outskirts of what looked like quaint towns, past people who waved, their faces filled with worry as we waved back and moved on by. Just like the other states we’d been in, broken-down cars sat in the roads, the occasional older vehicle rolling past. No one bothered us here, and we didn’t attempt to talk to anyone, though we might have to eventually as Hosea had only been able to provide us a ride and a day’s worth of food. We both understood—their mission was to help as many vulnerable people as possible, and Tuck was capable.

Thankfully, the weather was mild, so much so that at one point I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. “Do you think this weather has to do with the solar flares?”

“Maybe. It’s obviously affected the sky and so it’s possible it affected the weather. But I’m also not well-versed in a typical Kansas winter.”

I squinted into the sky he’d just mentioned, purple clouds floating over a lavender background. “Tuck… Hosea mentioned several solar flares hitting over the course of a day. Do you think that means they hit different parts of the world? Could this be a worldwide disaster?” Might other nations come to our rescue? Or is the whole planet dark?

“It could be. But all we can do right now is focus on getting home. It’s the best way to survive. And then we hope more information trickles in from there. Once we’re safe.”

Safe. Was there even such a thing anymore? The beauty and quiet around me made me believe—for the moment at least—that there were still safe places where good people existed. “Hosea said things would get fixed eventually.”

Tuck was silent again as though deciding how to answer. Finally, he said, “It will take at least several years.”

I stopped, gaping at him. “ Years? ”

“At least.”

He turned and started walking again, and I took up beside him, my legs like Jell-O. My head swam as a barrage of specifics wound through my mind. What would things look like after years with no power?

“What will people do for money?”

“They’ll have to trade things of value.”

Things of value. That phrase inspired a whole slew of unsettling half thoughts. What did I have of value now? My ribs felt hollow as I considered Tuck in my peripheral vision. He could work anywhere for the things that were now important—food, water, shelter…safety. He could come back to Topeka and find Hosea. His options would be limitless.

We need people with special skills.

It was me who would have no way to earn a living anymore. No one was going to trade me something precious for my voice, not when they were trying to survive. Birdsong was worth as much as my singing. I felt dizzy. Some of this had already occurred to me, and I’d begun to accept that my career would be put on hold. But I’d never imagined that on hold meant years. Would it even be salvageable by then? Who could even say?

I started humming again to shut out the unanswerable questions zipping through my mind, our feet hitting the pavement, providing a soothing cadence, my breath coming easier after a while.

Day Eight

We camped that night, so exhausted I was half-asleep before my body hit my sleeping bag, and the next day we started out again at daybreak, the Oklahoma sunrise coloring the plains in silvery-white light.

After a few miles, we saw a farmhouse in the distance, and Tuck came to a slow stop as he turned to shield his eyes from the glare and look at the property. I stopped too, and it took me a moment to pull myself from the semitrance I’d been in as I walked, focusing on the slap of my shoes on the road rather than the emptiness in my stomach and my growing thirst.

“It looks like a small farm,” I said. “If we can sneak into the henhouse, would they even miss a couple of eggs?”

Tuck thinned his lips. He didn’t like the idea of stealing, I could tell. But I also knew that he’d put survival above egg theft. Especially as eggs could be replaced for those who owned chickens.

“There might be a creek on their land or some other water source,” Tuck said. “We could fill up our water bottles.”

I gave a nod. We’d been refilling our bottles wherever we could when they ran out and then boiling the water before drinking it. But we’d finished the last of our water earlier and would need to find some soon.

Tuck turned toward the dirt road that led to the house a good quarter mile off the road and I followed.

“Let’s go through those trees so we can get a better view of the house before we just walk up on it,” Tuck said, and then without waiting for me to answer, began moving in the direction of the evergreens. The copse of trees wasn’t very thick and so it didn’t take long to make it to the edge of the tree line.

Tuck began walking slowly, and I all but halted, watching as he carefully removed his backpack and then leaned through the break in the trees where the house was visible.

I went to join Tuck but halted when I heard a click and saw Tuck freeze and then raise both hands as he stepped back. I sucked in a breath as my pulse rate jumped.

Tuck took another few steps backward, a…child appearing in front of him, holding a raised shotgun. The kid—who looked to be no older than twelve—stepped forward, one eye squinted as he gestured with the shotgun for Tuck to step back. Tuck did and the kid’s gaze swung to me and then back to Tuck. “What do you want?”

“We’d like to speak to your mom and dad if they’re available,” Tuck said. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“What do you want with my mom and dad?” the kid demanded.

“Just to—”

“Kyler?”

“Over here, Dad!” Kyler called. “I caught some trespassers!”

The sound of footsteps over soft ground quickly approached and a moment later, a man wearing a dark green beanie and a brown jacket, appeared. His eyes swept the two of us as he took the shotgun from his son and took over pointing it in our direction. “Who are you?”

“Sir, I’m Tucker Mattice, and that’s Emily Swanson. We’re walking to California, and we were hoping you could spare a couple of eggs, or…well, anything really.”

“Sorry. But we have a full house here and won’t be giving away any of our food.” He used the gun to gesture behind us. “Now move on.”

“Okay, have a nice day.” Tuck began to turn. To give up. My mouth dropped open. What were we going to do now? Catch a squirrel with our bare hands? He probably could. But I didn’t want squirrel. I wanted those eggs.

I used my arm to nudge Tuck aside as I stepped forward. I plastered a big smile on my face. Nova’s smile—the smile of the girl who knew how to get anything she wanted. Not the wavering concession speech of a man who was trying so hard to live his life on the straight and narrow that he couldn’t bear the thought of stealing a couple of eggs or talking his way into a warm house. But I had no such compunctions. I was starving and tired. “We’re here to trade,” I said. “Nothing comes for free in this world, not anymore. At least for now. We’re well aware.”

The farmer’s eyes did a brief sweep of the two of us before he let out a short laugh and nudged his son. “Go on back inside.” Kyler looked briefly indignant but then turned toward the house. His father sized me up again. “No offense but doesn’t look like you have much to offer.”

Tuck went to step back in the position where he’d been, and I quickly put my arm out again, holding him back. “Information,” I said.

The man paused, and he turned his head slightly. I saw the spark of interest in his eyes and jumped in to take advantage of the opportunity. “Sir, we’ve been walking for over a week now. We first spent the day with Sheriff Goodfellow in Silver Creek, Missouri, and then we spent some time with a man who walked from St. Louis. Yesterday we were in Topeka where some military members have set up a camp for…refugees. We’ve gained information about what’s going on from there to here, and also specifics about one of the big cities. I imagine you’ve been chomping at the bit, so to speak, as you’ve waited for information that hasn’t come. No mail. No garbage pickup. No aircraft overhead. If you have an older vehicle, maybe you drove to a store nearby, or maybe a neighbor did and reported to you that no one knew anything there either. If it wasn’t emptied out then, I can almost guarantee it is by now.”

I could feel Tuck’s gaze on me, and he’d leaned back slightly as though to give me more room to talk.

“The most important thing to know is that we have news you’re going to want to hear, and quickly. It pertains to your safety and that of your neighbors as well.” I wasn’t lying on that front. If Isaac was right, in short order, there were going to be a lot more people on the road. And that even meant backroads. I hadn’t really let myself consider the details of that too much because it was frankly terrifying, but in that moment, I realized that, so far, we’d walked in relative safety, but that might no longer be the case.

The farmer’s eyes had narrowed as I’d spoken, though the level of the firearm had lowered so that it was now aimed at the ground. I could only hope that was a good sign that meant he was at least considering my offer. “What is it you want to trade for this so-called vital information?”

“Dinner. We’ll take anything you can spare.”

“What else?” he demanded.

“Fresh water now and to take with us.”

“Hmm.”

Tuck interjected, “Sir, that’s all—”

“And a place to stay tonight.”

I heard Tuck let out a low hiss of air as though I’d gone a step too far, and I braced, waiting for the man to tell us to get lost.

“Dinner’d be whatever’s at risk of spoiling and needs to be eaten or thrown away. You can sleep in my barn, but I can’t allow you to stay in the house while my family’s sleeping. I’m sure you can understand.”

“That’s great. Yes, we accept. Thank you,” I said, the words flowing out on one long breath of relief. Oh my God. Dinner. A chair to sit in and a fork. I wanted to weep with gratitude.

I gave Tuck a giddy look over my shoulder and we followed the farmer as he led us through his front yard and into his house.