Page 145 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

CHAPTER

39

MERCURY FELT DRY and warm and incredibly happy as the truck bumped along a trail that looked like it had been made for and by deer. She sat between Ford and Stella in the cab, swathed in one of Karen’s cardigans from her seemingly never-ending supply. Her “Rogers High School” sweatshirt wasn’t exactly clean, and her boyfriend jeans definitely needed a wash, but Mercury was more than content as she nibbled on a cheese sandwich and sipped water while she stared at the ruggedly beautiful scenery.

“So, y’all don’t think anyone followed us from Madras?” Mercury asked.

“Nope,” Stella said. “As soon as we got you and Gemma into the back of the truck, we took off. I didn’t even turn on the truck’s headlights. With Ford’s help, we’ve avoided any real roads and have not seen one living person since Madras.”

“Do either of you know where we’re going? It can’t be long until sunset, right?”

“All I know is that we need to keep going east until we find it,” said Stella.

“But what’s it?” Mercury asked.

“I’m hoping Stella will know it when she sees it,” said Ford.

His arm rested easily along the seat behind her and it felt right, natural, for Mercury to lean against his warmth.

“I have a feeling we’ll all know it when we see it,” said Stella. “Hey, is that a road up ahead?”

Ford sat up straighter as he studied the area in front of the truck. Then he smiled. “It’s Bear Creek Road!” His voice was tinged with excitement. “It means we’re crossing into the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument and the Painted Hills Preservation lands.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Mercury asked.

Ford nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a great thing. I’ve hiked this area many times. It’s considered one of Oregon’s seven wonders, known for its remote beauty.”

Stella allowed her gaze to leave the path for a moment. “Remote?”

“Yeah! There’s only one real road that cuts through the national preserve. And only one little town within miles of here. No one can build on this land. Hell, the state doesn’t even allow vehicles into the hills. There are a limited number of hiking paths that people can follow, with controlled access to them. Anything else is strictly prohibited.”

Stella steered the truck up onto a two-lane road, where she shifted into neutral and stopped. “So, people don’t live here?”

“Nope,” said Ford.

“But it’s the high desert, right?” Stella asked.

“It is,” said Ford.

Stella’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “That means little water and extremes in temperature, correct?”

“For most of the high desert, correct. But on the eastern edge of the preserve, there’s a tributary of the John Day River that serves as runoff for the hills. Bridge Creek! That’s what it’s called. It doesn’t go dry.”

Stella’s lips curled up. “That’s it. That’s where we’re going.”

Mercury’s heartbeat quickened. “Like, for good?”

Stella nodded. “We’re supposed to be here. For good. But we have to be near water, because even though our blood makes things grow, nothing lives long without water.”

“We’ll also need to figure out some serious shelter,” said Ford. “It’s chilly and wet right now, but that’ll end by mid-spring. In summer, temperatures during the day can reach upward of one hundred degrees, and at night it can get really cold.”

“Which serves as a deterrent for people—especially assholes like Eva Cruz or Alvin fucking Rutland,” said Stella.

Mercury studied her friend. “You really think we could make a life here?”

“Once we find shelter, I know we can,” said Stella. “Ford, do I follow this road or keep cutting cross-country?”

“Follow the road.” Ford pointed to the right. “That’s the only way we’ll know how many people were stuck out here when the bombs hit. Plus, we can syphon gas and see if anyone survived.”