by Megan Crewe
“I wish we could offer you some food for the road,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re just not at the point where we can safely spare any. But you’ll always be welcome back. Just, please, don’t mention to anyone that we’re here. And take care!”
Gav stood up, stretching, after the door closed behind her. “I have the feeling they’re just glad to get rid of us,” he said.
Leo shrugged. “They didn’t have to help us at all.”
I swapped the ice packs in the cold box for the ones I’d left outside to refreeze overnight. Tobias wrapped the radio in its plastic casing, and we stepped into the forest where our sleds had been stashed.
“There’s only five,” Tobias said.
“The blizzard,” I said. “Tessa fell and lost hers, between here and the freeway. What did she have?”
He studied our supplies. “The second box of rations, the one that was full,” he said. “Nothing else important that I can tell.”
“We might as well look for it while we’re heading that way,” Gav said. “But I don’t think we should hang around too long.”
We shifted our supplies so we could fit the blankets and empty gasoline jugs from Meredith’s sled onto the other four. Then we set off toward the freeway. As we pulled out into the field we’d crossed in the blizzard, I scanned the drifts for any sign of Tessa’s sled. A lot of snow had come down that night. It was fluffy, puffing out as I pushed through it, but it would have buried anything on the ground.
When we came to the thin stretch of trees that bordered the freeway, I hesitated. I could see the deep tracks the van’s wheels had cut through the snowy road. We could spend all day searching the field and maybe still find nothing, or we could spend it putting more distance between us and the people with the rifle.
“I’m not sure exactly where we are,” I said, checking the map book. “But as long as we’re near the freeway, I can figure it out as soon as we get to another town.”
“Let’s keep moving, then,” Gav said.
We marched along in silence, the sky brightening as the sun rose over the tops of the hills to our right. The sleds whispered over the loose snow. Every now and then one of us would hold up a hand and we’d all stop, listening. But we didn’t hear a single engine. A flock of chickadees chattered at us from the branches of a juniper tree. Occasionally, the wind rose enough to rattle the bare twigs. Otherwise, the only noise was our feet.
Gav and Leo started discussing the possibility of using the snares when we stopped for the night, and Tobias asked me a few questions about Dad’s work. The memories didn’t sting quite as much as they used to. We paused at the crest of a slope, the rooftops of a small town visible up ahead, and pushed the sleds down before following.
I went first. About halfway to the lower ground, my feet caught on a slick patch beneath the snow and whipped out from under me. I fell on my butt, sliding the rest of the way down.
“You okay?” Gav called. An instant later, he yelped and whooshed down beside me. As I got up, wincing and brushing the snow off my jeans, Leo skidded down sideways as if on an invisible snowboard.
“Dancer’s reflexes,” I said, pointing at him. “That’s cheating.”
A mischievous glint I hadn’t seen in ages lit in his eyes. “No,” he said, “it’d be cheating if I did this.” He scooped up a handful of snow, gave it a quick squeeze, and tossed the hasty snowball my way. It hit me square in the chest.
“All right,” Gav said, scrambling to his feet. “This is war.”
“Come on, Tobias,” I said. He was still standing at the top of the slope, glancing back the way we’d come. “We need the soldier on our side.”
“Three against one?” Leo protested, and Gav and I both pelted him with snow.
“You started it!” I said.
Tobias didn’t move. His forehead had knit. As Leo balled up another handful of snow, I wavered. “Tobias?”
He turned and said, evenly, “There’s someone following us.”
fourteen We all went still the second Tobias spoke. “The van?” I said. Tobias shook his head. “No. One person, on foot.” He unsnapped a couple of the buttons partway down his coat,
sliding his hand inside as he watched. I braced my foot against a solid chunk of snow and craned my neck, trying to see over the top of the slope. Then Tobias relaxed.
“It’s the kid,” he said. We scrambled back up. A figure in a black coat was trudging along the path we’d trampled, his face turned toward us, the sled that had been Meredith’s dragging behind him. His orange hat was a blaze of color amid the snow.
“Justin,” I said. “What’s he doing?” When he saw us all staring, Justin waved and trudged faster. He ran the last short distance to the edge of the slope, his breath coming in huffs.
“You walk faster than I thought you would,” he said. “Is something wrong?” I said. Meredith, or Tessa—“Everything’s good,” Justin said. “I’m coming with you. Wherever you’re going now.”
For a second we all just eyed each other.
“You didn’t think your mom would let you come,” Leo said, breaking the silence. “So you snuck off instead of talking to us about it up front. Yeah?”
Justin flushed. “She doesn’t get it,” he said. “I’m tired of . . . of hiding all the time while pricks like those guys in the van walk in, looking to take our stuff, to mess with us. It’s stupid. I don’t want to sit around and pick beans and cook oatmeal and pretend it’s okay. It isn’t. It sucks. I want to do something, like you.”
“But your mom must be freaking out,” I said.
“She’ll know where I am,” Justin said obstinately. “I left a note.”
Which might have helped a little more if we knew where we were going to be, between here and Toronto. Or if we were even going to get there.
“How old are you, anyway?” Tobias asked.
“Fifteen,” Justin said, and paused. “Next month.”
I winced, but Gav was studying him. “That’s not that much younger than us,” he said.
“There’s a pretty big difference between sixteen or seventeen and fourteen,” Leo said. “And that’s not the point. The point is he didn’t talk to anyone, he just took off.” He glanced at Justin. “If you’d talked to us first, I might feel okay about it. But not like this. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your mom, how much she’s going to worry about you?”
“You don’t think he should get a few points for determination?” Gav said. “He’s here now. It’s not like we can make him go home, unless you want to haul him all the way back. We might as well keep going and give him a chance.”
“You want to be responsible for him?” Tobias put in.
“I can take care of myself,” Justin protested. “Who’s in charge here? Just tell me what I’ve got to do to prove it, and I will.”
Leo and Tobias both looked at me, as if it was my decision. Why should it be up to me? There were four of us.
“I think we all have to agree,” I said. “It involves all of us.”
“So what do you think, Kae?” Gav said.
I hesitated. Hilary had trusted us enough to take us in, feed us, and shelter us. She’d accepted Tessa and Meredith into the colony. I didn’t like the idea of repaying her by helping her son run away. Fourteen . . . Fourteen was young. Three years ago, I couldn’t have imagined going on a road trip without my parents, let alone walking across the country in the middle of winter.
But then, I couldn’t have imagined that six months ago, either. The virus had changed all of our lives. Maybe, these days, fourteen wasn’t so young after all.
“Are you really okay with what you’re putting your mom through?” I asked. “We don’t know how long it’ll be before we can come back. We don’t know if we’ll be able to make it back at all.”
For a second, Justin looked like a scared kid, even younger than the almost-fifteen he claimed to be. Then his mouth set. “Yeah,” he said. “I got it. Anything happens to me, it’s on my
shoulders, not yours. It’s my life.”
It wasn’t, though. What he did could affect all of us, as long as he was with us. But Gav was right. We didn’t have any way of stopping him from following, not unless we gave up a whole day of traveling to take him back. And even then, who was to say he wouldn’t come running after us again?
“Fine,” I said.
Tobias shrugged. “As long as he carries his own weight.”
Leo was frowning. I caught myself hoping he was going to come out with some reasoning so perfect it would convince Justin this wasn’t a good idea. But he just sighed and said, “All right. I don’t like it, but I can live with it if you can.”
We moved some of the supplies back onto the fifth sled and set off across the snow. As Justin hurried to join Gav in the lead, an uneasy feeling welled up inside me.
One more person’s life was on the line because of Dad’s and my unproven vaccine.
My uneasiness over Justin’s arrival faded a bit when he pulled five pears out of the bag he’d brought with him. “Right off the tree,” he said, handing them out as we walked.
I raised the pear to my face and smelled it. Saliva filled my mouth. When was the last time I’d eaten fruit that wasn’t from a can or a jar? I couldn’t even remember.
I allowed myself one big bite, unable to hold in a hum of pleasure as the tart juice slid down my throat, and ate the rest in nibbles so it lasted.
The taste lingered in my mouth long after I’d finished, as we passed through another town that didn’t offer any viable cars. Tobias spotted a transport truck on the freeway in the late afternoon, so we veered over to take a look, but there was no sign of the keys. As evening fell, we found ourselves in a particularly lonely stretch of forest. I was starting to worry that we’d be camping outside that night, when we came across a mobile home in a wide clearing.
The aluminum door was swinging open, whining softly in the breeze, but the owners had built a deck out front with an awning that had kept the snow from getting inside. Squeezed onto the benches in the cramped dining room, we warmed canned stew and peas over the camping stove. With the door closed, the thin heat that rose off the burning kerosene took the edge off the chilly air. After we’d gulped down our meal, Tobias got out the radio.
“You ever hear anyone on that?” Justin asked. Tobias shook his head. “It can’t hurt to try, though,” he said. “It’s not like I’ve got much else to do. I’d better take it outside— don’t think it’ll like the metal walls.”
He slipped out, and I heard him set the transceiver down on the deck’s patio table. A moment later, his voice filtered through the door, using the name of the freeway to identify us. “This is Route 2 New Brunswick. Can anyone hear me? Over.”
There was no reply. Tobias paused and then repeated his message. Gav poured a little water into a pot full of snow, and Leo set it over the stove. I padded down the narrow hall to check the bedroom. It held a double bed with a twin bunk over top. We’d manage. At least we had walls around us.
I was just heading for the door to get the sleeping bags when a sharp female voice crackled on the other side.
“We hear you, Route 2 New Brunswick. Over.”
I started, jarring my elbow against a cabinet, and Gav stood up. As one being, the four of us inside rushed onto the deck.
Tobias was staring at the radio. Justin shuffled around him. “So say something!” he hissed, and then reached for the mic. Tobias jerked it away from him.
“This is Route 2,” he said, his hand shaking. “Who is this? Over.”
“Group of concerned citizens, trying to look out for each other,” the voice replied. It was tinny and laced with a low buzz of static, but clear enough that I could make out every word. “Where are you calling from? Do you need help? Over.”
“Ask them what kind of people they have in their group,” I said, dropping into the chair beside Tobias. He repeated my question into the mic.
“All sorts,” came the response. “We make no judgments. There are a few doctors here, if you’re needing medical intervention. Over.”
The right kind of doctor would know how to formulate more of the vaccine. “How close do you think they are?” I asked Tobias, my heart thudding.
“I don’t know,” Tobias said. “This is the best radio we had on the base—on a clear day we could get signals from overseas. Depends on how good their transmitter is.”
Gav rested his hands on my shoulders. “Who cares how close they are? They’re there.”
“If we can trust them,” Leo said. “We don’t know anything about them. The people in the van—they had radios, didn’t they?”
“Two-ways,” Tobias said. “With those things you’re lucky if you get a couple miles of reception. There’s not much chance they’d be close enough and happen to be listening right when I broadcasted.”
“It doesn’t sound like the woman who was in the van,” I added. Her voice, don’t kill anyone yet, echoed in my head, low and flat, without any of the nasal sharpness of the woman on the radio. “But we don’t know if they can help us yet.”
Even if they didn’t have anyone with them who’d know how to replicate the vaccine, could we hope they might know where to find someone who could? Or lend us a vehicle so we could look?
Static fizzled, and a man’s voice cut in. “Still there, Route 2? Over.”
“We’re here. Over,” Tobias said.
“What is it you’re looking for?” the voice asked calmly. “If there’s something you need, we may be able to help. Over.”
He sounded so reassuring that I started to relax. Maybe the walking and the worries about the cold and food and the people in the van could be over now. Maybe I’d get to go back for Meredith as soon as tomorrow.
“Tell him we’re looking for a scientist or doctor who’s working on . . . a cure for the virus,” I said. “I don’t want to say exactly what we have until we’ve gotten a chance to talk with them face-to-face.”
Tobias relayed the message.
“I can’t say we have the friendly flu licked yet,” the voice replied. “But we have people here trying. Where are you located? We can give you directions to us, or we may be able to send someone to pick you up. Over.”
I looked around at the others. “What do you think?”
“I don’t see any reason to think they’re lying,” Gav said. “This is what we’ve been looking for, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t we go check them out?”
“We still don’t know who they actually are,” Leo said. “Even if they’re not the ones who’ve been following us . . .”
Justin scratched his head. “They sound all right to me.”
“They don’t even know we have anything useful,” I said. “They probably figure we’re asking about doctors because someone here’s sick, and they’re still offering to let us come to them. Why would they bother unless they really want to help?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said. “Why are they randomly scanning the radio in the first place?”
“What’s the point in being out here if we’re not going to trust anyone we manage to get in contact with?” Gav said, throwing up his hands. “Hell, if we’re not going to believe anyone, we should have stayed on the island and tried to manufacture the vaccine ourselves!”
There was a moment of silence, and Leo lowered his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m being paranoid. But I still think we should go cautiously.”
“We will,” I said, and turned to Tobias. “Tell them the name of that town we passed—that was, what, about four miles back? If they can come to us, that’ll be easier.”
“We should be able to manage that,” the voice said after Tobias gave the directions. “Give us an hour or so. You hang tight. Over.”
Tobias set down the mic, but when he reached to turn off the radio, I said, “Let’s leave it on for now. What if they need more information?”
I glanced over at the sleds we’d pulled out of view behind the trailer. We weren’t goin
g to be able to take all our supplies with us—I doubted they would fit in whatever vehicle they sent. Maybe we’d be able to come back for them later?
A shiver of excitement raced through me. “We did it,” I said aloud, needing to hear the words to make it completely real. “We found someone.”
“You did it,” Gav said. He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the spot behind my ear.
“It was Tobias who actually made contact,” I pointed out.
“I wouldn’t have had any reason to contact them if it wasn’t for those,” Tobias said, tipping his head toward the cold box.
I set my hands on it. “Maybe we should hide them until we’re totally sure these people are legit,” I said. “We’ll meet their doctors, I’ll ask them some questions, then we’ll decide what to do.”
Nothing about this was certain, after all. Even if these people were friendly, it could be another dead end. But at the very least, they seemed willing to try to help. Maybe I could finally hand off this responsibility to someone who actually knew what they were doing.
“If that’s what you think we’ve got to do,” Gav said.
“Yeah,” I said, picking up the box, but I couldn’t help grinning.
“I guess after this you’re all going home,” Justin said, sounding dejected.
Leo gave his shoulder a light shove. “If you’d been through everything we have, you’d be happy about it.”
“For all we know, we might still—” I started, and a voice leapt from the radio speaker.
“Hello?”
I spun around as Tobias snatched up the mic. “Route 2 still here. Over.”
“Good. Good.” A rushed breath hissed through the speaker. “I need to ask you something that might sound kind of strange. Do you have a vaccine?”
It wasn’t either of the people we’d spoken to earlier, the woman or the man. The voice sounded like a younger man’s, or an older boy’s. His words hit me like a slap, but I stepped forward, feeling there was something I should be hearing that I wasn’t quite grasping.
“What vaccine?” Tobias said, raising his eyebrows at me. “Over.”
“Look,” the new voice said, “whether you do or not, they think you’re the ones who have it. The people they sent to pick you up, it’s the vaccine they’ll want. I don’t know if they’ll believe you if you say you don’t have it. They’re going to expect you to just hand it over. And they’re going to hurt you if you don’t.”
