by Lucin, David
“Hundred percent. Some guy and a girl. The girl was Chinese or something.”
“Where the hell’d they go?”
“Beats me,” the first voice, the higher of the two, said. “Maybe they saw us comin’.”
“Bah,” the deep voice said dismissively. “Who cares? We got the car.”
The voices went quiet. The birds whistled at each other again. Jenn’s throat tickled and she wanted to cough. That smell returned, too. It stunk of rot even worse than the garbage in Sam’s dorm. What the hell was it? A dead animal? More flies buzzed around her face. One flew into her nose, and she exhaled sharply to eject it.
“Locked,” the high voice said.
“Then break the window, idiot.”
“Shame,” the first voice replied. “Hate to wreck a nice ride.”
A moment of silence followed. Then the smash of breaking glass made Jenn jump.
Sam bounced on the balls of his feet and gnawed on a nail, the same bloody one as before. Why were these people doing this? Jenn understood looting grocery stores. That was a matter of survival. But stealing cars?
Could she and Sam stop them somehow? Maybe she could create a distraction to draw these men off the road and into the woods. Then Sam could race up the bank, take his car, drive away, and meet her later, when and where it was safe.
“Can you get it to start up?” the deep voice asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a minute.”
Jenn’s right hand rested on her waistline, close to the gun. If she was going to act, she had to act soon, before they started the car. But fear held her in place.
“Got it,” the high voice answered. “These Teslas, man. Easy. Worst firewalls I ever seen.”
Sam crawled forward, but Jenn grabbed his wrist to stop him. He was clenching his jaw, and his hands were balled into fists. “Don’t,” she whispered. “It’s not worth it.”
“What’s the charge?” the deep voice asked.
“Ten. Bit under.”
“Shut it down. Lock the doors.”
“What? Why? We aren’t taking it?”
No answer. Or maybe the deep voice did answer but Jenn couldn’t hear.
The birds went quiet. The air had stilled and the smell of rot faded, replaced by the familiar scent of smoke. Sam breathed heavily through his nose. Jenn’s front foot had gone numb, so she shifted her weight to restore the blood flow. To her ears, the rustling of dirt beneath her shoes sounded louder than gunfire.
Had those men left? If they had, she might not know. She hadn’t heard their vehicle when it pulled up, just the sound of the doors closing. If they’d taken Sam’s Tesla already, the buzz of its engine wouldn’t have carried this far.
A twig snapped. Jenn lifted her shirt to expose the handle of Gary’s Glock. Her eyes caught movement: a stone or a rock tumbling down from the road. She strained to focus on it but only saw the thin trunks of leafy trees obscuring the slope of the bank beyond.
“Dammit!”
That came from one of the men. He was closer now. Then he appeared, sliding down the incline on his backside. Squat and heavyset, he wore a plaid button-up, dark jeans, and a baseball cap. A dust mask hung from around his neck. Jenn crouched and hoped to disappear into the woods. In the corner of her eye, she saw Sam’s white T-shirt. Among the trees, he stood out like fireworks at night.
The man carried something shiny and metallic in his right hand.
A gun.
Sam tapped Jenn on the shoulder. Fear filled his eyes, and his face was as pale as his shirt. A jerk of his thumb told her to move deeper into the woods and away from the bank, so she turned and crouch-walked behind him. She looked for the man but had lost him among the trees.
Together, they snuck through the underbrush. Just a little bit farther. Then they could stand and make a run for it.
The smell of rot hit her like a wall.
Sam fell onto his rear. “What?” Jenn whispered. “What’s wr—”
In front of Sam lay a body. Its face was a sickly gray and had the texture of plastic. Blood covered the left half and obscured its features, but the long hair and earrings made clear it was a woman. Flies crawled along the cheeks and forehead and into the nose and mouth. The faded, unmoving eyes stared up at the orange sky. An unnatural shape bulged from the side of the neck. Branches, leaves, and a thin layer of dirt caked most of the torso. Bits of cream-colored blouse poked through, showing smatterings of more blood.
Was this the driver of the white sedan? Had these men found her dead and disposed of her down here? Or had they found her alive, killed her, and hidden the body in these woods?
Jenn searched for the corpse of a baby or a toddler.
Another twig snapped. Behind them, the man, the one in the plaid shirt and ball cap, stood next to a tree at the base of the bank, his handgun raised.
“Run!” Jenn shouted and broke into a sprint. Instinctively, she threw her hands up to cover her head.
“I found ’em!” the man yelled. The high voice. “Down here!”
Something hooked onto Jenn’s foot, and she tripped. Sam caught her, then yanked her forward and between two trees.
They ran. Jenn didn’t know for how long. They weaved between Ponderosas, up slopes, down banks, and over a creek. Soon, her sense of direction evaporated. For all she knew, the highway could be ahead of them, not behind.
Her cheeks were on fire. Every labored, panicked breath made her chest burn. Dried tears crusted the corners of her eyes, and she coughed up fluid and growled to clear her throat. She hadn’t heard or seen either of those men in what felt like hours.
But she didn’t stop. Neither did Sam.
* * *
“Hold up!” Sam huffed.
Jenn hunched over and rested her hands on her knees. Stars filled her vision, and she struggled to focus as the forest seemed to spin around her. Beads of sweat rolled off her brow, and strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and lips. The taste of smoke filled her mouth. A fit of coughing overtook her, and when she finished, her throat was raw and her eyes leaked tears. She tucked a hand into her backpack in search of her water.
Sam, his face a deep red, collapsed onto the dirt beside the trunk of a Ponderosa. He coughed, too, and spat out a gob of something thick and yellow. “Are we good?” he forced out between ragged breaths.
Jenn handed him her water bottle, which he snatched away and drank from greedily. “I think so,” she said. “Must be.”
Sam wiped his mouth and scanned the surrounding forest. Jenn did the same. Nothing but underbrush and trees. No sign of the man in the plaid shirt. He didn’t look athletic, judging by his physique and how awkwardly he descended the bank, and Jenn doubted he could keep pace with her and Sam for this long. She never saw the second thief. He could have followed them, but would he leave his accomplice behind? Not likely. Even if he had, she hadn’t seen or heard anyone following them—only the sound of her and Sam’s shoes, the whistling of birds, and the rustling of branches in the breeze.
Jenn’s breathing steadied, and the burning in her lungs faded. Dull orange sky loomed above them. The trees, thinner here than closer to the highway, were a mix of pines and deciduous species that reminded Jenn of when her family went hiking near Prescott, a town between Flagstaff and Phoenix. She was twelve or thirteen. Her brothers came. Jenn’s mother made everyone leave their phones in the car. The kids needed to enjoy nature, she’d said, and see it through their own eyes, not their screens. It was family time, so they had to unplug. Too bad unplugging meant they had no map, and a few wrong turns later, the Jansens were lost. It was dark when they finally found their way to their SUV.
“What the hell just happened?” Sam asked. His voice was more level and even now, and his face had lightened from a deep red, almost purple, to a vibrant pink.
“What part?”
“They stole my car!”
She didn’t answer. What could she say?
He picked a stone off the ground. “My car. Why?”
&
nbsp; “Why not?”
He flashed her a look of disgust, and she regretted speaking. “Sorry,” she said. “I mean, like, think about the Go Market. People were stealing everything they could. There were cops there, but I haven’t seen any since we left. Plus, your car’s a few years old and it’s a garbage Tesla, but it works. That makes it one of the most valuable things in the world right now.”
“I guess.” Sam tossed the stone aside. “We walked straight into that, didn’t we?”
Jenn found a twig in the dirt and turned it over in her hand. Could they have done anything differently? Sam took the secondary roads, not the interstate. They kept their eyes open, watching for trouble. She tried not to imagine what would have happened if they’d stayed with the Tesla or driven back the way they’d come. What if they had run into those men? Would they have taken the car as well as all of her and Sam’s supplies? Killed them? “No,” Jenn said. “They trapped us. Plain and simple. There’s nothing else we could’ve done.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair as if he planned to tear out a chunk. “Where did they even come from? I didn’t see anyone on the way here.”
“They might’ve hidden on a logging road. Or a driveway.”
“And what? Waited for someone to drive by?”
“Probably.”
Sam groaned and leaned on his hands. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“Stupid?” Jenn snapped the twig in half. “What else were we supposed to do? Not go after your family?”
“We could’ve gone another way.”
“How do you know that would’ve helped?” The words came out more harshly than she wanted, so she paused for a moment to calm herself. “Don’t beat yourself up,” she said softly. “It’s not your fault.”
He muttered something and lay down. “I guess.”
They sat for a while and caught their breath. Then Jenn’s stomach grumbled. She both felt and heard it. From her backpack she sought a prepackaged meal Gary kept in case of an emergency. MREs, he’d called them. He gave her one before they left this morning: spaghetti and tomato sauce. Not her first choice for breakfast, but she was light-headed and her guts folded in on themselves. If nothing else, some food might wash away the taste of ash in her mouth.
She gripped the top like a bag of chips and pulled, but it refused to budge. With a grunt, she tried again. Then again. No luck. Her stomach growled some more, and something hot boiled in her chest. Why the hell was this thing so hard to open? It didn’t need to be childproof. She pulled one more time, but her fingers slipped free, and she dropped it into the dirt.
She cursed and Sam reached for the package. “Here.” He pinched a tab on the side and tore a strip clean off the top. “I’ll show you.”
He went to work on the MRE, pulling out a half dozen smaller packets and some utensils. He put the largest packet into a clear plastic sleeve, then filled the sleeve with water and sealed it.
“What does that do?” Jenn asked.
Sam rested the bag on the ground beside him. “Heats it up. Something reacts with the water, makes it warm.” He tossed Jenn one of the smaller packets.
“What’s this?”
“Crackers,” he said. “Eat. I know when you’re hungry.”
They were dry and tasted like sawdust, but the flame in Jenn’s chest cooled a little with each bite. “Why did they follow us?” she asked. “Those guys. They already had the car.”
“I don’t know. Silence the witnesses?”
“We didn’t witness anything. Well, not that they knew, anyway. What about that woman in the woods? Do you think they murdered her?”
Sam seemed to consider the possibility. “No,” he said. “She probably died in her car. I bet the EMP killed it and she crashed.”
“And they just decided to hide a body in the forest? Innocent people don’t do things like that.”
“Leviathan,” Sam said, almost reverently.
“Le what?”
“A book. Thomas Hobbes. Seventeenth century. Didn’t you take History 201?”
Jenn scoffed. Humanities and social sciences classes were a waste of time. She had to complete a few of each to satisfy the requirements for her degree, but that didn’t mean she’d learned to enjoy them. Anthropology was the exception. That was where she met Sam.
He waved a dismissive hand at her. “Of course you didn’t. Don’t know why I asked. Whatever. Hobbes said that people are evil at heart. Barbarians, basically. In nature, law or order don’t exist. So people give up some of their freedoms to a king who’ll protect them. If there’s no king—”
“There’s no laws,” Jenn finished. “And nobody’s safe.”
“Exactly.”
“Gary always told me I should take a history course.”
Sam agreed with that.
While they waited for the spaghetti to cook, Jenn tried not to think about the dead woman and the empty car seat in the sedan. She reminded herself that she saw no blood on it. She saw no baby in the woods, either. Still, this kid, wherever it was, would grow up without a mother and never know what happened to her or why. No closure, no finality—just as Jenn had lost her own parents. There’d be no funerals for her mother and father. She’d never see their bodies or visit their graves. Her brothers at least received memorial services with full military honors. She even had the chance to say goodbye to Jason in person. Andrew was never found, but Jenn could throw flowers on an American flag and pretend he was there. That was better than nothing.
“It’s ready.” Sam offered her a plastic spork.
She dug in. The spaghetti tasted like wet cardboard, but her stomach stopped growling.
After a few bites, Sam spoke. “So what’s the plan?”
“The plan?” Jenn asked through a mouthful of pasta.
“Yeah, the plan. You always have a plan.”
She swallowed and licked her utensil clean. “The plan’s to go to the cabin. Same as before. It’s a hell of a lot closer than Flagstaff.”
“Okay. Which way?”
Jenn opened her mouth to answer, then realized she had no idea. While losing those men, she’d become disoriented. She wasn’t even sure what direction they were headed on the road. Payson was southeast of Flagstaff, but the highway twisted and turned almost the whole way there. For all she knew, they could have been facing west or north when they encountered the roadblock.
Her hand drifted to her pocket, the one she used to keep her phone in before the EMP. The world felt so much larger without a map.
“I . . .” she started, then caught sight of a tree’s shadow.
The sun.
It hung at her five o’clock. It was still early, so that was east, more or less.
“Which direction were we going when we stopped?” she asked.
Sam thought about it for a moment. “South, I think. On that switchback.”
Spork between her teeth, she stood. “Okay. The bank was on the right side of the highway, right? So if we were going south in the car, say, and we ran roughly straight away from the road, that means we’re west of it now.”
Sam nodded along. “Yeah. So Strawberry should be south of us.”
With an arm held out in front of her, she spun left until the sun was at her nine o’clock. “Then we walk this way. South. We should run into town. When we do, we can get to the highway and follow that into Payson. You know where to go once we get there?”
Sam began packing up the contents of the MRE. “Yeah, I know where it is.”
Jenn undid her ponytail and shook out her hair. It was heavy with sweat, grease, and pine needles. She pulled it up and tied it again to tame all the rogue strands. Why hadn’t she washed it before leaving? She could have used dry shampoo, at least.
“Let’s go,” she said. The spaghetti might have tasted like the packaging it came in, but a few bites of carbohydrates focused her mind. Refreshed and energized despite the gross hair, she almost forgot that Sam’s car was stolen and that they were lost in Tonto National Forest.
Almost.
“One problem,” Sam said. “Say we make it to the cabin and everyone’s there. How do we get back?”
“What’d you mean? Doesn’t your mom or Kevin have a car there?”
“Yes, but what if it was plugged in when the EMP hit? What if it was running?”
Her jubilation from a minute ago faded. Without a vehicle, they might wind up stranded in Payson. Then what? What if she didn’t come home tonight or the next day? What would Maria think? How would she handle it? Jenn promised that she’d be home by dinner.
Sam’s hand touched hers. “Sorry,” he said before coughing into a fist. “I’m sure it’s fine. Kevin always forgets to plug it in, and my mom never goes out on her own. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek and moved through the underbrush, leading them toward Strawberry and, hopefully, the cabin. She went to follow but paused, then felt the gun on her hip. When the man in plaid had come after them, she ran and didn’t fight. What good was having Gary’s Glock if she couldn’t use it to defend herself?
Sam stopped and turned to her. “Coming?”
“I’m not getting caught off guard again,” she said more to herself than to Sam. “Next time, I’ll be ready.”
16
Jenn’s heel was bleeding. With every step, her shoe shaved off another layer of skin. Her softball cleats used to give her blisters, but after two years of wearing them three or more times per week during the season, she built up calluses. By her senior year, they didn’t bother her. They still rubbed and tore holes in her socks, but her heels fought back.
Not today.
For over twelve hours now, she and Sam had been walking. After deciding to head south, they quickly came upon Strawberry, then cut east and found the highway, which they followed into Payson. The smoke and their aching backs, legs, and feet conspired to slow them down, and more than a dozen times they stopped to rest. They finished the MRE hours ago, and already, Jenn was hungry again.
The sun had set around the tenth hour of their hike. On Jenn’s left, the mostly full moon peeked over the treetops. It shone a fiery red, not white. Its rays reflected off the haze and turned the sky a murky, brownish-gray, tinging the world in an orange hue and lighting their way in the night.
