by Harley Tate
Madison’s head popped up, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “What do you mean?”
Tracy glanced at the remains of her home. “We can’t stay here. Whoever set the fire might be coming back to finish the job. And we need shelter. Our cars aren’t big enough to hold our supplies and us forever.”
Her daughter blinked quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t—”
“Shush. It is not. You didn’t set the fire. You didn’t break into our house. What’s done is done. There’s no use dwelling on it. All we can do is move forward.”
“What about Dad?”
Tracy hesitated. “I’m going to talk to Penny and see if she’ll keep an eye out. If your father does show up, she can at least point him in the right direction.”
Her daughter nodded and turned to go, but Tracy stopped her. “Madison?”
“Yeah?” As she turned back around, Tracy smiled. Her daughter might be nineteen, but she still looked at her with the big, eager eyes of a child.
“Your father will find us. I know it.”
Madison nodded, but didn’t say anything else before turning away. Tracy knew her daughter’s hope was fading. But Tracy wasn’t giving up. Walter would find them eventually.
She smoothed the hair off her face with her good hand and examined the burn for the first time with a level head. Based on the pain she experienced and the blistering without charring, it appeared to only be second-degree.
Not that a second-degree burn couldn’t kill her if it got infected, but it could be worse. A third-degree burn would have meant she burned through all the layers of her skin and would have nerve damage and charring. She wouldn’t feel a thing because there wouldn’t be anything left.
Never in her life was Tracy more thankful for excruciating pain. If she could keep the wound clean, it would heal in a few weeks. She just needed to pay attention.
After drinking an entire bottle of water, Tracy found a scrap of paper and scribbled a note on it and shoved it in her pocket. Then she managed to pick up the case of water, balance it on her hip, and make her way across the street.
Penny had always been a good friend. She remembered the cookies she brought over the very first day Tracy and Walter moved in. Butterscotch chocolate chip.
She didn’t even have to knock, Penny opened the door with a smile. “Hi, Tracy.”
“Hi, Penny. I wanted to thank you for the medicine.”
“Is it helping?”
“Yes. I want you to have this in return.” She twisted her hip and stuck out the case. “I’m afraid I can’t hand it to you, but you can take it.”
The wrinkles around Penny’s eyes deepened. “I don’t want to take your water. You have so many more mouths to look after.”
“Please take it. It’s the least I can offer.”
After a moment, Penny reached out and took the case with a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
After chatting for a few minutes, Tracy glanced back at the burned-out house. “We’re leaving in a few hours and I’m wondering if you can do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“If you see Walter,” Tracy paused, trying to keep her voice even, “can you tell him we’re headed north to Truckee? I’ve written the address down.” She held out the scrap of paper. “Tell him we’re sticking to the side roads.”
Penny took the piece of paper and nodded. “I’ll watch for him.”
“Thank you.”
Tracy said her goodbyes and made her way back across the street. There was still one more thing she needed to do before they left.
As she kneeled outside of what remained of Madison’s bedroom, each one of the kids made their way over. She didn’t need to say a word; they knew. She spent a few minutes staring at the ashes, but Wanda’s bones couldn’t be seen. She didn’t know if the fire burned so hot there that they were gone, or if other debris covered them up. They didn’t have time to look.
Madison reached out and squeezed her good hand and Tracy fought back tears.
“Wanda was a good woman. She might not have been prepared for this new world, but she gave all that she had when asked. Thanks to her, we were able to defend ourselves, stock up on our supplies, and even take a shower.”
Everyone gathered around smiled and laughed through the pain of loss.
“Although she’s no longer with us, she won’t be forgotten.” Tracy said a silent prayer and reached out to touch the charred edge of the wall. Madison and the others did the same.
“To Wanda and her sacrifice.”
After a moment, Tracy stood. “All right everyone. Let’s pack up and move out while there’s still some daylight left.”
Brianna, Tucker, and Peyton all headed toward the Wrangler. Madison stayed behind with Tracy.
“Do you really think Dad will find us?”
Tracy nodded. “I do. No matter where we go, he’ll be looking. He’s a survivor, honey, just like us.”
Madison nodded. “Okay.” As they reached the Nissan, Madison turned around, peering into the wreckage.
“What is it?”
“I was hoping to spot Fireball, but I guess he didn’t make it out in time.”
Tracy paused. She’d forgotten all about the little cat. She snuffed back a fresh wave of tears. “Maybe it’s for the best. I don’t know how we would have fed him, anyway.”
Madison wiped at her eyes. “You’re probably right. But I could sure use a furry little hug right now.”
Tracy reached out and squeezed her daughter’s arm. “So could I. Come on, let’s go.”
They both slid into the car, Madison behind the wheel. The back seat was stuffed to the ceiling with what they had managed to salvage. It was a paltry amount compared to what they had before, but at least it was something.
Brianna started the Jeep in front of them and Madison stuck her thumb up out the window. They moved off the curb and onto the road, one after the other. Tracy took one last look out the window, watching until the remains of her house disappeared from view.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
MADISON
North of Sacramento, CA
4:00 p.m.
Trying to get out of Sacramento was like threading a camel through the eye of a needle. Every road out of town was either blocked with a multi-car accident or an endless stream of vehicles abandoned with no signs of drivers anywhere.
It had been fine on little neighborhood streets, but the major roads were virtually impassable. Brianna’s Jeep could off-road around the worst of it, but the little Nissan hugged the ground and couldn’t even jump the curb. Every time Brianna went around something, Madison would honk and wave and Brianna would have to backtrack. Frustration ran high in both vehicles.
After passing another clump of empty cars, Madison shook her head in amazement. “Where is everyone?”
Her mom shrugged. “Who knows? My guess is most people ran out of gas and took off on foot.”
Madison reached for the radio and clicked it on. She spun the dial, searching for anything other than endless static. After a few minutes of failure, she turned it off. “Do you think we’ll ever come back from this?”
“The loss of power?”
She nodded. “Think about all the things we took for granted. Food, water, heat and air.” She pointed at the radio. “Music and movies and the internet. Never in a million years would I have thought the world could be as quiet as it is now.”
Her mom managed a wistful smile. “I miss the radio, too. All the songs we used to sing.” She turned in the passenger seat. “Do you remember when you were little and we would sing every Paul Simon song that came on?”
“I loved Paul Simon.”
“The whole reason we got the CD player for the Suburban was so you could listen to his greatest hits while riding back there in your car seat. I couldn’t see you—the car was so big and your seat faced the back—but I could hear your happy little voice belt out every word to Diamonds
on the Soles of Her Shoes.”
Madison choked back a sob. So many memories. So many things she took for granted. “Do you think it’s the whole country? If we drove to Seattle or Alaska, would it be better there?”
“I don’t know. It depends on the size of the EMP, I suppose.”
“Brianna said if it had been a nuclear attack, parts of the US would still have power, like Florida and maybe even Washington State.”
“But this wasn’t a nuclear attack. It was the sun. Truth is, we might never know unless we drive there.”
Madison nodded. They had so many decisions to make, starting with where to go next. “Do you really think Brianna’s family will let us stay with them?”
Her mom thought it over. “Maybe. But that depends on if her family even made it to the cabin. They could be on the road just like we are, or worse. Once we get there, we can reassess and decide what to do. Until then, we need to focus on the drive.”
The car beeped and Madison glanced down. The dash flashed with a red little shape that looked like an electrical plug. “Mom?”
“Yes, dear.”
“We might have a problem.” Madison glanced up. About fifty yards ahead, the Jeep eased around a car blocking half of the right lane and kept going. The Leaf shuddered, the beeping from the dash growing louder and more insistent.
“I think the battery is dying.”
“What?” Her mom sat up in the passenger seat. “I thought this was one of those hybrids you could drive forever and never need to stop at the gas station.”
Madison hesitated. “Does it even take gas?”
“What kind of car doesn’t take gas? It has to.” Her mom reached for the glove box and popped it open. “Let me check the owner’s manual.” She fished around the dark with a frown. “Where is it?”
While her mom rooted through the glove compartment, Madison stared at the little flashing light. The car began to shake. She pressed down on the accelerator, but the car didn’t speed up. If anything, it slowed even more.
At last, her mom pulled out a business card. “For more information, including a compete owner’s manual, please look us up online.” She groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Madison pumped the gas pedal as the Leaf coasted to a stop. The battery symbol on the dash glowed solid red for a moment before blinking out. The whole car shut off.
Her mom pushed open the passenger-side door. “There has to be a gas tank. We’ll just find a car, siphon it, and be back on the road in no time.” She climbed out and began looking at the rear of the vehicle. “Madison? Is there a gas tank up front? I’m not seeing a place to put the hose.”
Madison climbed out and glanced around. “I don’t think there is a gas tank, mom.”
“Nonsense.” Her mom walked around the car inspecting every curve and indent before stopping back where she started. “I never.”
Madison glanced up. The bright yellow of Brianna’s Jeep was nowhere to be found. Oh, no. I forgot to honk. Madison rushed back inside the car and slammed her hand down on the horn. It stayed silent.
She hit it again. Come on. With the battery dead, not even the horn worked. If Brianna made it too far down the road before she noticed they were gone, she might lose track of the way back. We could be stranded.
“Brianna’s gone.”
“What?” Her mom glanced up, the space between her brows knitting together. “As soon as she notices we aren’t behind her, she’ll come back.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Her mom glanced at the back of the Leaf loaded down with supplies. “We can stay here for the night and pack out in the morning.”
“What about all the stuff?”
Her mom shrugged. “We’ll have to leave it behind.”
Something inside Madison snapped. That’s it!
She kicked the side of the car as hard as she could, putting a boot-sized dent in the fender. She kicked it again and added another. “I’m so sick of this! I’m dirty and smelly, our house just burned down, my dad could be anywhere from here to Hong Kong, and now we can’t even go anywhere.”
Her mom didn’t say a word.
“I want everything back. Movies and arcades and grocery stores and cheesy pop songs and cars… that… take… gas!” Madison accented each of her last few words with another kick to the fender. By the time she finished the poor thing looked like a giant pockmarked golf ball.
She exhaled and palmed her hips. “What?”
“Are you done?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms across her chest.
“You can scream if you want to. I know I’ve done it a time or two.”
Madison let her arms drop. “You’ve gotten so frustrated you yelled?”
“At the top of my lungs. Even threw in some choice obscenities, too.” Her mom smiled. “It’s okay to be frustrated. It’s just never okay to give up.”
The rumbling of an engine caught Madison’s ear and she turned her head. The bright yellow of a familiar Jeep’s front grille made her smile. “They came back!”
“Of course they did. Now help me push this car over into the parking lot. We can stop here for the night.”
Madison waved at Brianna before going to the back of the Leaf and giving it a push. Her mom steered it over to the side and into the lot of what used to be a restaurant. The windows to the place had been smashed and the inside burned. Now it was an empty shell just like their former house.
Brianna parked alongside and all three college students got out. “What happened?”
“Battery’s dead.”
Brianna glanced around. “It takes gas, too, right? We can just siphon some and—”
Madison held up her hand. “No gas. Turns out it’s electric only.”
Her roommate’s mouth fell open. “Of all the cars to steal, you all get an electric one? You do know the power’s out, right?”
Madison’s mom laughed. “It was the best I could do at the time. Believe me, I’d much rather have my Suburban.”
Peyton spoke up. “We have way too much stuff to fit into the Jeep. And if we’re all going to be riding in it, we’ll have to take out even more. What are we going to do?”
Madison glanced at her mom. “My mom wants to stay here for the night and figure out a plan in the morning.”
Tucker glanced at his watch. “Not a bad idea. It’ll be getting dark in an hour or so.”
Peyton nodded. “I don’t think we should drive at night.”
Brianna crossed her arms. “Last time we tried sleeping in our car, we almost got arrested.”
“And shot,” Tucker added. “Don’t forget shot.”
“We can take turns as a lookout. One person every two hours. That way we all get some much-needed sleep and we stay secure.”
Madison nodded. “It’s a good idea. I’m exhausted. You all must be too.” At this point, all of them had been awake for way, way too long.
At last, Brianna dropped her hands. “Fine. I could use some sleep. But Peyton sleeps in the Leaf. I can’t listen to him snore.”
“I don’t snore!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
Madison shook her head and turned toward the car. She could make Peyton some room.
Her mom spoke over the bickering. “If you all will stop arguing long enough to get us something to eat, I’ll take the first shift tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WALTER
Sloane Residence
8:30 p.m.
Walter slowed the car, disbelief easing his foot off the accelerator. It couldn’t be. He pulled up in front of the charred remains of a house, frowning as he glanced at the surrounding untouched homes.
“Whoa. Looks like whoever lived there got a bit too happy with the gas grill, maybe.”
“That’s my house.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Walter turned off the car and got out, walking in slow-motion around the back. He stopped at the edge of
the singed lawn.
My house.
He inhaled a shaky breath, exhaling through his mouth. All that remained of the little bungalow he and Tracy had purchased with the proceeds from the sale of their big house out in the suburbs was a half-melted fridge and a few charred walls.
My house is gone.
Walter lifted his foot, about to step onto the grass, but he hesitated, the sole of his shoe hovering an inch above the blackened blades. Had his wife and daughter died in the fire? Were their bones lying in a charcoal heap not thirty feet in front of him?
It smelled fresh, like a campfire the morning after. Had this happened only yesterday?
If he hadn’t gotten on that damn airplane… If he hadn’t let his sense of duty to the job and the passengers sway him from his instincts…
Walter slid to his knees and the burnt lawn crunched beneath his jeans. If I hadn’t saved Drew…
As the door to the Jetta opened, Walter jumped up, half-running, half-staggering into the ashes. He needed to see it. Touch it. Smell it.
To confirm with his own eyes and fingers and lips and nose that he let his family down. That he failed. He rushed into what used to be the kitchen. The fire consumed everything it touched. No kitchen table, no counters, no framed portrait of his daughter at her high school graduation.
Everything he loved. Gone. Walter tore into what used to be the living room and turned around in a circle. A shell of the couch still remained, the springs from the sleeper sofa inside still coiled in their cage.
Down the hall, the bathtub still sat in its familiar position, enamel melted away to expose the iron underneath. He felt like that tub. Burned and raw. Burnt to the bone.
Walter paused outside what used to be the master. He couldn’t go in. He couldn’t confirm what he already knew.
“Walter!”
He turned around.
“Walter, is that you?”
A flashlight beam came bounding across the street, illuminating a pair of slipper-clad feet. He walked toward the light.
