by Morgan Rice
“You really need to chill out,” Stephan says.
“Chill out?” I say, getting more irritated by the second. “What about this scenario do I have to be chilled out about?”
“Well,” Stephan says, haughtily, “how about the fact that I know somewhere nearby where we can get motorcycles?”
I stare at him, my mouth agape. “Why didn’t you say so?”
He gives me a smug look. “Maybe something to do with you punching me out cold. It didn’t exactly warm me to you.”
“Brooke!” Bree chastises me. “You didn’t, did you?”
“He was pointing a gun at Molly!” I cry, defending myself.
“Stephan,” Bree snaps at him. Then she looks at each of us in turn. “Can we all please stop arguing? It’s not doing any good. We’re all in this together so we may as well start acting like friends.”
I fold my arms and stare Stephan down. He gives me a fake smile, one that says we will probably never be friends. But if he knows how to get us bikes, and as long as I’m in possession of his gun, then we’re sticking together.
“Fine,” I say, relenting. “Let’s get some sleep. We leave for the Mississippi in the morning.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Ta-da,” Stephan says, gesturing to the open garage door.
I peer into the gloom. Inside I see several old vintage motor bikes and choppers, covered in thick dust and cobwebs. They look like they could have belonged to a gang of Hells Angels once upon a time. They’ve certainly seen better days.
“And these things work?” I ask, incredulous.
I can’t help thinking that Stephan’s led us on a wild goose chase.
“Oh, they work,” he replies.
He walks into the garage and toward one of the choppers, then retrieves the keys from inside its seat compartment. He twirls the keys around his fingers, showing off. I roll my eyes.
“Hurry up, please,” I say. Stephan’s really testing my patience.
He grins and finally puts a key in the ignition. The bike thrums to life, its engine roaring and throwing out fumes.
“I don’t believe it,” I say, pacing forward and drawing up beside the bike. “How much gas is in this thing?”
“It has a full tank,” Stephan replies. “They all do. I’ve been siphoning gas for years, filling them all up, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case I ever found somewhere to go.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, I feel bad for Stephan. He’s a survivor like me, who’s done morally questionable things to survive just like I have. Making Molly a hostage was just a desperate act on his part. Can I really say I wouldn’t have done the same if our positions were reversed?
“Thanks,” I say, trying to sound sincere. “We’ll get to the Mississippi in no time at all with these. Come on, guys, grab a bike.”
Everyone enters the dark garage and chooses a vehicle. I make sure my bike has a sidecar so that Bree can travel with me with Penelope on her lap. It makes me feel better to have her close. Charlie chooses to ride in a sidecar with Ben. As Ryan attempts to mount a bike, I rest my hand gently on his arm.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be in control of a vehicle after what happened yesterday.”
“I’m not an invalid, Brooke,” he replies. “I’m fine now.”
“I know, I’m just being cautious. And anyway, you should be in a sidecar with Jack really. You are his master, after all.”
He finally agrees to get in the sidecar with Molly driving.
Before we set off, Zeke pulls out the map.
“It’s four hundred miles direct,” he says. “But that takes us straight through Chicago.”
I shake my head. “No way. We need to avoid Chicago entirely. There’ll be an arena there. I’m certain.”
He nods in agreement. “Then how about we take this route, heading slightly southwest? We’ll avoid Chicago completely, but it will add an extra three hours to the journey.”
“Three more hours?” Ryan repeats. “That’s a hell of a lot more gas used up than needs to be.”
“I think we should take the direct route,” Molly says, joining in the debate.
“I think we should take the safest route,” Ben contests.
I sigh, my head filled with thoughts that swirl around. “Is there anywhere to stop off midway?” I ask Zeke. “We could do with hunting and picking up some more provisions.”
Stephan makes a scoffing noise. “Yeah, great idea, since you’ve eaten all my rations.”
Even though it’s true that we finished up the last of his rations over breakfast, I shoot him a glare and he quiets down.
Zeke shows me a spot on the map that’s meant to be a wooded area. It’s on the direct route, close to Chicago. It would be risky to go that way but I’m starting to think it’s our best bet.
“Remember this map is about a hundred years old,” Zeke reminds me. “Whether that wood is still there or not, there’s no guarantee.”
I nod, understanding that it would be a risk to head somewhere we can’t be certain exists, especially when it’s so close to a major city.
“Molly and Ryan are right,” I say finally. “We need to head the most direct route. We can stop off here in the forest, pick up some provisions, have a rest. Then we’ll detour a little south so that we miss Chicago entirely.”
I look up at my friends, hoping for confirmation. Ben’s the only one who doesn’t look impressed. He must think I’m siding with Ryan when I’m really just trying to do what’s best for everyone.
Zeke folds up the map and puts it away safely in his pocket. “That’s settled then. Let’s go.”
We mount our bikes and head out of the garage and onto the main road, leaving Toledo and the destroyed rail yard behind us, venturing out on a new path, with a new plan, into the unknown.
*
Since there’s no one else on the freeway, we can use as much of the road as we want. It feels freeing, like we’re breaking all the rules of our old civilization.
It’s a cool spring morning. By the color of the sky and the position of the sun, I would guess it’s only slightly after 6 a.m. We all managed to get a decent night’s sleep last night and, along with filling our stomachs with Stephan’s canned food, we’ve all woken up feeling rejuvenated.
It takes four hours of solid driving to reach our stop-off point in the woods south of Chicago. To my great relief, the drive is uneventful. After about two hours of cruising, the engines whining in my ears, my friends at my sides, I finally stopped bracing myself for catastrophe.
I slow my bike to a stop beneath a patch of trees. The others draw up beside me and kill their engines. Silence descends. By the time we turn off the main road, fatigue and hunger have set in.
After a moment, birds start singing in the trees.
“Dinner,” I say, dismounting my bike.
I look over at Ryan. The two of us spent months hunting in the forests of Fort Noix, and I’ve been missing those quiet, peaceful moments. I’m expecting him to jump at the opportunity to come hunting with me, but he doesn’t look like he wants to go anywhere at all.
“I’ll come with you,” Ben says quickly.
I look from one to the other as it dawns on me what is happening. The jealousy between them is growing, causing a rift. Before, Ben was the weak one, the distant one, and Ryan was right by my side supporting me. But now, after his near-death experience, Ryan’s the one who’s becoming withdrawn, and Ben isn’t hesitating for a second to step into his shoes.
“You know, there’s a lake a little farther north,” Zeke says. “Maybe we should send someone to fish as well.”
“I’ll go,” Stephan says. “I know how to fish.”
I look at him skeptically. I still don’t trust him, even after he led us to the motorbikes and let us eat his food.
“I’ll go with him,” Zeke says.
“I don’t need a chaperone,” Stephan replies.
Ben and I collect the bows and arrows and head into the forest. The thick canopy of trees above us provides a nice, cool shade.
We walk quietly through the forests, making sure not to startle any birds. The silence between Ben and me has never been awkward. Our friendship has never needed many words spoken. Ben feels like my companion, like an extension of myself. He’s been there since the beginning, since everything changed for me and Bree. He helped me through some terrible times. He’s seen me at my absolute worst and he’s always been by my side. If he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t feel right.
I pause and gesture for Ben to do the same. He freezes and we both listen to the twittering coming from the trees above us. I recognize it as the call of grouse.
Slowly, imperceptibly, we both move into position with our arrows poised and ready to fire. The second the grouse take flight, we let the arrows go. They sail through the air, side by side, and each one hits its target.
Elated, I swirl on the spot and embrace Ben. His arms encircle me, holding me close. It feels so good to be reunited with him. Being in his arms feels so right.
I hear a twig snap and leap away from Ben, suddenly filled with guilt. I look up and see Stephan standing there, his eyebrow raised, a row of fish hanging from his line. Zeke’s a few steps behind.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Stephan says, amused.
“You’re not interrupting anything,” I mumble, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, putting some extra space between me and Ben. I don’t meet anyone’s eye as I add, “Let’s get the food back to the others.”
Ben and I grab the grouse from where they fell, then the four of us head back, not saying a word as we go.
We make it back to the place at the edge of the forest where we pulled over to find that Ryan and Molly have made a sort of camp. Charlie, Bree, and the dogs are all sleeping curled up around each other beside a fire pit lined with hot rocks.
“Grouse,” I say to them, holding up the two dead birds. “The others caught fish.”
They all look thrilled.
It takes a few hours to cook the fish and birds on the hot rocks. The smell while we’re waiting makes us salivate. But the results are better than I expected and everyone sits around munching on the tender meat, relieved to finally be resting and filling their stomachs.
Soon, the light begins to fade.
“Should we set up camp for the night?” Molly asks.
“No,” Ryan says. “We should get a move on.”
I’m inclined to side with him; the longer we stay out here in the middle of nowhere the more likely we are to run into danger. But there are risks to driving in the darkness as well. We’re so close to Chicago we’ll have to drive without headlights so as not to draw any attention to our whereabouts. That will make it far more difficult to navigate and far more dangerous to drive. But despite the danger, I’m certain it would be better for us to keep going, albeit slowly and cautiously, than risk being discovered or ambushed in the middle of the night.
“Ryan’s right,” I say. “We should pack up and ride through the night.”
“I think we should stay,” Ben says, challenging me.
I frown, looking at him with confusion. I’d assumed Ben would be on my side—he’s seen firsthand what the slaverunners can do after all. A part of me wonders if he’s saying that just to start an argument with Ryan.
Whatever his reasoning, it works. I can’t tell whether Ryan’s making up for lost time or just being overzealous because he has an opposing opinion to Ben, but he pushes his point rather aggressively.
“We’d be sitting ducks!” he cries. “We’re far too close to Chicago.”
“We’d be driving blind,” Ben counters. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Hardly,” Ryan scoffs. “It’s not like we’re going to run into anyone else out on the road. But if you’re worried that your driving skills aren’t up to the challenge—”
“My driving skills are fine,” Ben shoots back.
Stephan starts laughing, seemingly finding the two boys bickering a source of amusement. I decide that things are getting too heated and step forward to intervene.
“Guys,” I say, holding my hands up. “Arguing isn’t helping anything.”
“But you’re siding with him,” Ben says.
I can see the hurt in his eyes.
“It’s not about sides.”
Molly steps in, again trying to be the peacemaker. “We need to do what’s best for the kids.”
“What’s best for the kids is not getting kidnapped by slaverunners,” I say. I look at Ben, appealing with my eyes. “You know that. You’re just being argumentative.”
Ben looks down at the floor. He knows I’m right. He knows the fight he’s picking with Ryan isn’t about whether we drive through the night or not, but about me.
“Ben, I’m sorry,” I say. “But there’s plenty of bikes. If you want to stay back and sleep the night, you can. Ryan and I can just go on ahead and meet up with you later.”
His gaze snaps up. “No way.”
Once again I know he’s arguing against me and Ryan being alone together more than anything else.
“There has to be some kind of compromise,” I say diplomatically.
Bree, overhearing the dispute, comes over.
“Brooke’s right,” she says. “We have to keep going. If we stay here we’ll get caught by slaverunners.”
Ben folds his arms. “I’m not just going to change my mind because an eleven-year-old girl has told me to. That’s not how democracy works.”
“Who said this was a democracy?” Bree says haughtily. “Brooke’s leader. It’s her plan. She gets to decide.”
Everyone looks at me. I curse silently in my head. I wish Bree hadn’t put me in such a difficult situation. I know Ben’s going to read more into my answer than he ought to, that he’s going to think that I’m choosing Ryan when really all I’m choosing is common sense. But right now staying alive is more important than not hurting Ben’s feelings.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him. “But we’re driving on. It’s only a couple more hours before we reach the Mississippi. We can rest there.”
Ben shakes his head and looks so disappointed it makes my stomach ache. The atmosphere is beyond tense. Then suddenly, Stephan starts clapping.
“I’m so glad you guys brought me along for the ride,” he says. “This is so entertaining.”
Molly shoots him an angry glare.
With a heavy heart, I get back on my bike and try to kick it to life. But nothing happens. I check the gas gauge and realize that it’s practically on zero.
“Um, guys!” I call out. “I’m out of gas!”
One by one, everyone checks their own bikes and realizes that the same fate has befallen them. Every single one of our bikes has run out of gas.
I turn on Stephan.
“I thought you said the tanks were full!” I snap. “You said we could make it all the way to the Mississippi.”
He looks sheepish. “They were. I guess they just… well, the bikes are really old, you know? Maybe there were leaks in the tubes or something.”
Furious, I run over to the road that we’d come along. Sure enough, there are little droplets of gas all along the road. I run back to the others.
“Okay, now we really have to get out of here,” I say, urgently. “We’ve made a trail with gas all the way here. If there are slaverunners on that road, we’ll lead them right to us.”
Everyone looks terrified.
“You want us to walk?” Bree says, trembling. “In the pitch black?”
“We have no choice,” I say, marching ahead. “Come on! Everyone, get a move on!”
I’m starting to lose my cool. But the rest of the gang knows I’m right and they start to follow.
As the night grows darker and colder I curse under my breath. Our
two-hour drive has just turned into a twenty-four-hour trek.
*
The sun starts to rise. We’ve been walking all night. As the black nothingness I’d found comforting disappears, I’m now faced with a sight of destruction and devastation.
Up ahead a rusted metal sign reads Galesburg, but it’s the only thing left standing. The rest of the town has been reduced to a huge crater. Someone dropped a bomb here so powerful it wiped the entire town off the face of the earth, leaving behind nothing but a welcome sign teetering on the edge of the crater.
It’s heartbreaking to think of what this place once was. To think of all the innocent families blown to pieces, their lives cut short in one catastrophic moment.
“I don’t believe it,” Ben says, breaking through my thoughts.
I look up. Just ahead, the only thing standing beside the long, straight road, is a used car yard, still filled with cars.
I try not to let myself feel too hopeful, but as the gang rushes over, the dogs barking excitedly at our heels, I start to feel that we might have had our first stroke of luck in hours.
Together we rush across the street to the auto salvage yard. They cars look like ones from the 1950s. The doors, thankfully, are unlocked.
Zeke climbs in the front driver’s seat.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he says. “It has a full tank of gas.”
I can’t believe our luck. But no sooner do we get the good luck than we’re immediately hit with the bad luck.
“Damn, no keys,” Zeke says.
“That’s not a problem,” Molly replies. “I can hotwire a car.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. She shrugs.
“We all have pasts, Brooke,” she says with a haughty little smile.
She gets the car started then does the same with another. Bree jumps in the back of the other car. Of course, Charlie joins Bree, and Penelope, too, wanting to be with her favorite human, clambers in. Then Jack starts barking at the kids and dog in the back seat, making it very clear that he wants to ride with his furry companion.
