by Megan Hart
He glanced back at Elanna, who was incredibly still asleep. Maybe being pregnant tired women out. Anyway, the hard ground and the rising sun didn’t seem to bother her, and he didn’t want to wake her just yet. He wanted to see what lay on the other side of the barrier.
Climbing it wasn’t too hard. There were plenty of gaps to use as hand and footholds. He was afraid at first that the structure would shift under him, but he relaxed as he moved higher and not so much as a twig snapped under his weight. Whoever had built it made it strong.
He climbed higher. Sweat ran stinging into his eyes and he turned to look at Elanna. His stomach did a slow roll as he realized how high he really was. It hadn’t seemed so high from the ground. Now it seemed as though he could almost reach out and touch the tops of the trees set back from the road, if they were only a little closer.
Just a few more steps and he’d reach the top. Even as he climbed the last few steps he knew it didn’t matter much if they were rerouted. They had no time line other than the one he’d created in his mind. That and the seasons would determine how fast they traveled. He didn’t want to be on the road when the weather turned cold again. When Elanna’s baby would be born.
He stopped, thoughts of Elanna and the baby gone. Deleted. What was on the other side of the barrier left no room for thought other than horror.
With numb fingers he grabbed, hard, to keep from falling. The road below him was an abattoir; the carnage that had occurred there was no less horrific because it had obviously happened long ago. Bodies, piles of bones with shreds of flesh hanging from them, were strewn as far as he could see. Several of them were impaled on pieces of the roadblock.
The corpses wore identical outfits of green, though most of the cloth was faded and torn. Some gripped long barreled things in their hands. Guns? Were they guns? Old Pa had an ancient shotgun that had belonged to his great-granddaddy. It didn’t look anything like the weapons these people had carried. What had happened here? What had they been fighting to defend?
A sound like thunder broke the morning silence. Far away it rumbled, but he imagined he felt the barrier shake beneath him. His palms grew sweaty as he gripped a metal street sign that jutted from the pile. Again, silence. His ears strained.
It came again, a low rumble brought on the breeze. His heart began to pound. He looked at the bodies again, the bones in clothes who carried guns. He noticed something he’d overlooked in his initial shock.
All of them were facing away from the barrier. They hadn’t been defending it. They’d been crawling over it.
Whatever had killed them was on this side of the roadblock. And judging by the rumble that came again to twist his guts, it was coming back.
−
28-
She wasn’t sleeping, just lying there with her eyes closed, but when Tobin shouted it startled her. Elanna sat up, heart pounding. She squinted against the bright sun and raised her hand to shield her eyes.
“Get up!”
Tobin was scrambling down the jumbled pile of wood and junk. Her heart leaped into her throat as he lost his footing and nearly fell. Images of Tobin splattering onto the road, breaking bones and maybe worse, flashed into her head. He caught himself at the last moment but didn’t slow his frantic pace.
He yelled her name, slipping again, catching himself again, and her stomach jumped. The blankets tangled around her feet and she cursed them because they wouldn’t let her up.
“Get up! Get in the car!”
“What’s wrong?” she managed to say, thrusting herself free of the tangle.
One more time he lost his footing, and this time he didn’t find a handhold. Tobin slid the last few feet to the earth, skidding along the jutting wood and metal. She heard the sound of cloth ripping.
“Be careful!” Elanna reached for him though she knew she was too far away.
He was up and on his feet before she had the chance to get to him. His hands were bloody, and he’d scratched his cheek. A strip of fabric from his shirt flapped as he ran toward her. He didn’t seem to notice any of these things. Fear contorted his face, and seeing it made her own heart thud in alarm. What had he seen?
“What’s wrong?” she asked again, but he was pulling her by the arm, back toward the car.
“No time,” Tobin said through gritted teeth. His hands were cold and wet on her elbow. He propelled her ruthlessly into the passenger side and slammed the door, almost catching her foot.
He slipped into the driver’s seat, fumbling with the ignition. His forehead was pale and sheened with sweat. He swiped at his eyes, fingers shaking as he reached again for the keys.
“Tobin? You’re scaring me!”
He looked at her then, his mouth set into a grim line she didn’t like at all. “We have to get out of here. How far back was that exit?”
“I’m not sure.”
He reached over and pulled the seat belt across her shoulder and over her lap. “Put this on.”
His face had scared her, but that simple act of putting on her seatbelt terrified her. “Please tell me what’s happening!”
He didn’t have time. Thunder suddenly filled the world, shaking the road and the car, and them. Elanna gripped the dashboard, watching the roadblock. She expected it to tumble down in front of them, over top of them, any second.
Tobin twisted the keys in the ignition, cursing impatiently and slapping the steering wheel with his free hand when the car didn’t start right away. He tried again, harder this time. Still, the engine buzzed but didn’t catch.
“The button!” The roar of thunder ebbed and grew incredibly louder, pulsing. She thought she heard voices, too, yelling beneath the noise. She couldn’t be sure. “You have to push that little button!”
“Got it!” Tobin pushed the small red button on the control panel and waited until it turned green. Then he twisted the keys. The car buzzed into life.
He slammed it into reverse and the little car revved, then flew backwards. Gravel shot from beneath the tires, spanging against the windows. The car bumped, hard, as they passed over the shoulder. Elanna thanked Ha-Shem she’d put the seatbelt on. Tobin had not, and he hit his head on the ceiling when the car jolted.
Tobin heaved the wheel as far as he could, and the car turned. Now they were facing away from the barrier. Elanna twisted around to look out the back window, but she could see nothing. Their packages and baggage blocked the view.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Something bad.”
The car leapt forward as he pushed down on the accelerator. A high-pitched whining came from the engine. He was pushing the car too hard, too fast. Looking at his face, she dared not ask him to slow down.
Now she heard more yelling over the thunderous roar. She looked into the side mirror, trying to see what was behind them. The car bounced so much her vision blurred, but she saw figures on top of the pile blocking the road. Some of them had already climbed down to the street. They waved their arms and yelled, and they all held strange, long poles.
The end of one of the poles exploded, and the figure holding it fell back. In the next instant, her side mirror disappeared. Pieces of it clattered against the window. Elanna shrieked without breath, and though the sound echoed in her head nothing came out of her mouth.
Tobin pushed the accelerator harder. The whining grew louder, more strained. The car bucked and jumped, but responded, and in the next moment they’d left the roadblock far behind.
Elanna sat back in the seat, helpless. Tobin drove like a madman, hunched over the wheel. The exit was coming up sharp on the right. He wasn’t looking at it. He didn’t see it. They were going to go right by.
And yet, she couldn’t speak. Whatever had destroyed the mirror seemed to have stolen her voice, too. She moved her lips but nothing came out. She’d never been so terrified.
Now the side road was just in front of them. Elanna raised her hand, pointing. Tobin didn’t see. His hands gripped the wheel so hard she thought he might leave marks. S
he pointed, waving her hand, trying desperately to say something. Anything, just to get him to look.
“Go right!” The words exploded from her mouth.
Tobin heard her. Without looking, without hesitating, he twisted the wheel to the right and stomped harder on the accelerator. She didn’t see how they could go much faster.
The car squealed as it made the turn, and the engine’s whine grew to an ear-splitting wail. The tires slid in the rocks and dirt along side the road. The car shuddered. For one sickening moment the car tilted, and she looked out her window to see the earth rushing up at her. Then the car settled back on four wheels, and they were following the curving road that led away from the one they’d been on. Without stopping the car shot out through an intersection and toward a small stream.
She screamed again, this time with breath. The car flew toward the bridge, where all that remained was two concrete slabs with nothing spanning them. The bottom had rotted away. She couldn’t tell how deep it was, but did it matter? They were going in!
Like a pigeon hunching itself into flight, the little car seemed to gather itself and leap. They left the stream bank and cleared the bridge, landing on the other side with a rattling thump that threw Elanna against the restriction of her seatbelt so hard it cut her neck and shoulder. Tobin didn’t fare so luckily. He flew forward and cracked the windshield with his head before falling back.
“Tobin!” She screamed his name, frightened by the blood pouring from a cut above his eye.
Without Tobin’s hands on the wheel, the little car spun out of control. They left the smoothness of the road and landed in the growth of the field next to it. The car shuddered, and the engine’s whine cut off.
He groaned. Elanna blinked at him, trying to think what had happened. The pain in her neck and shoulder made her put her fingers to the spot, and they came away red. Tobin winced, holding his head. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the front of his shirt.
She cried his name, reaching for him, but the seatbelt that had saved her from greater injury now held her back. She slapped at it, forgetting in her distress how to work the catch that would release the buckle. He leaned over, fit his fingers into the slot and released the belt with a click. It slapped against her as it slid back into place. Ignoring it, she slid across the seat to him, wiping at the blood on his head.
He reached up and grabbed her hands to stop her. “Don’t!”
“Let me see,” she demanded. She needed to know how bad his wound was.
His eyes began to roll back in his head. His mouth fell open. Elanna watched him fall back against his seat, frightened by his sudden limpness. She ripped the bottom of her shirt and pressed the cloth to the cut on his forehead. Within moments the white fabric began to turn red. He groaned. Elanna let out a sob of relief. He was alive.
Though there was a lot of blood, the wound didn’t look deep. Carefully she eased the cloth away and wiped his face clean. The cut still oozed, but it looked much better. She tossed the bloody material it to the floor and looked for something else to use before he woke up and began to fight her off.
Reaching into the back seat, she pulled out a towel. It was a little dusty, but she didn’t have time to worry about that now. Elanna folded the cloth into a thick square and pressed it back onto Tobin’s head.
They were still sitting like that when the little boy appeared at Tobin’s window.
−
29-
His head hurt. His hands hurt. His neck and back and all his limbs hurt. A groan built in his throat but his mouth was so dry nothing came out. He cracked one eye open and shut it instantly against the light that was a sliver of glass in his head.
The next instant he sat straight up, the groan turning into a cry that forced its way out of his parched mouth. They had to keep moving! Get away from whoever had built the barrier.
He looked to the passenger seat. Elanna was gone. The door hung open. He looked down to his lap, at the towel, covered with blood. Whose blood? Hers? His? Frantically, Tobin searched for her but could see nothing.
His door, bent in the crash, wouldn’t open. He punched it, cursing, and felt the bones in his hand protest. The skin over his knuckles split. More blood. He climbed over the gearbox and slid across her seat. Out the door, falling into the earth where the dirt had been slashed and churned by their arrival.
He would find her. If it meant fighting every one of those soldiers, whatever they were, he would find her. Tobin rolled himself to his knees, and then his feet. Waves of nausea and dizziness assailed him; he went back down to one knee. He sank his head onto the knee, fighting the sick sensation in his head and stomach. He had to find Elanna.
“Tobin?”
He whirled, and dizziness nearly overtook him again. He fought it, struggling to his feet to find her. She stood at the back of the car, but in the next moment she was there beside him. Holding him. His arms went around her and he felt a relief so great it was almost like passing out.
Maybe he was passing out again. Tobin shook his head, jarring it, until the pain woke him up again. Elanna was talking to him, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. They didn’t have time to talk. They had to move. Go. Get away.
“Shhh,” she said, smoothing her fingers over his brow, and he realized he’d been muttering. “It’s all right, Toby. He says it’s all right.”
“Who?” Her touch didn’t take away the pain, was in fact making it worse, but he didn’t tell her to stop. It was enough that she was there, and that she was all right. That she hadn’t been taken from him.
“Amos,” Elanna said.
Tobin forced his eyes open to see a small boy standing next to Elanna. His face was solemn beneath a large straw hat. He wore a plain blue shirt and black pants with suspenders. His feet were bare.
“Ich bin Amos,” the little boy said. “Ihr sint English?”
Tobin looked at Elanna. “What’s he saying?”
Elanna shifted a little, sitting on the ground to cradle Tobin on her lap. “I’m not sure. But I think…I think he’s speaking Yiddish.”
It was all too much for him. Tobin felt himself graying out again. He clutched at Elanna. His eyes didn’t want to stay open.
Amos grabbed his nose and twisted it sharply. Tobin sat upright with a yell, consciousness rushing back to him with instant, painful clarity. The boy ducked back behind Elanna, who held Tobin’s arm against hitting him.
“Toby! He was only trying to help.”
Tobin felt his nose carefully. It wasn’t bleeding. His fingers explored the gash high up on his forehead. Wincing, he saw blood on them when he looked, but not too much of it. It hurt like hell, though, even when he blinked.
“You hit the windshield with your head,” Elanna said.
“Are you all right?” Tobin put his hands on her shoulders and looked her over. Aside from the red weal on the tender flesh of her neck, he could see no injuries.
“I’m fine, thanks to my seatbelt,” Elanna said. “Thanks to you.”
Now his breath came easier and his heart began to slow. He saw Amos peeking from behind Elanna, and he gestured at the boy.
“C’mere,” Tobin said. “I’m not mad, Amos. I won’t hurt you.”
The little boy shook his head and stayed where he was. Elanna murmured something to him that Tobin couldn’t decipher, and Amos stepped forward. Tobin held out his hand and the boy shook it twice, quickly, before stepping back out of reach.
“What did you say to him?” Tobin asked.
“I said that you weren’t mad at him, and that he was a brave boy to stop and help us.”
“And he understood you?”
She looked perplexed. “I think so. My Yiddish isn’t so great, I’m afraid. And some of his words are different. And the accent. It’s almost like he’s speaking Yiddish, but not quite. I think we understand each other, though, don’t we, Amos?”
Watching her reach out to ruffle the boy’s hair, Tobin felt unreality wash over him. “What
about those people at the barrier? The ones with the guns?”
Amos didn’t answer. Instead, the boy looked past them, over Elanna’s shoulder, and jumped to his feet. “Papa!”
Tobin forced himself to sit, though every movement made his head throb and his stomach twist. Elanna shifted, too, looking to see where Amos had gone. She held onto him, and he felt her shiver. She was afraid, too.
“Amos!”
The man calling out wore the same sort of straw hat as Amos. It shaded his face from the morning sun, but Tobin could see he wore a full beard, brown shot through with gray. His dark pants rose just to his ankles, showing dark socks and black, heavy shoes that looked as though they could walk through anything. His white shirtsleeves were rolled up to expose muscled forearms, brown from the sun.
