There wasn’t a soul to be seen. Shelby was torn between feeling ecstatic because they had what they needed, what they’d risked their lives for, and anxious because of the road ahead of them.
“It’ll be okay,” Max assured her as the vehicle in front of them pulled to a stop.
Both of the doors on the front vehicle opened, and the two soldiers hopped out at the same time that two more jumped out of the back. Before Shelby could fathom what was going on, eight soldiers—four from the jeep and four from the Humvee—had encircled both their vehicles with their weapons raised.
“What’s happening?” she asked, hating that there was a tremor in her voice, that terror could rise so quickly in her heart.
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”
Danny appeared at Max’s window, motioning for them to exit the vehicle.
“I need you both to step back ten paces.”
“What are you doing, Danny?” Her heart was racing and she kept blinking rapidly, hoping that the scene in front of her would change. Why was this happening? Was God punishing her for killing the guard? But God didn’t work that way. Jehovah was a God of mercy and grace.
Her voice rose into a scream. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering her, Danny glanced back at Patrick and Bianca. The soldiers in the Humvee had apparently given them the same directions. Once Danny was satisfied that everyone had moved away from the vehicles, he turned to his men. “Load it up.”
Six of the soldiers holstered their weapons and began removing the boxes of medication. Two stayed in position, one covering Patrick and Bianca, the other with his weapon trained on Max and Shelby.
A loud ringing in Shelby’s ears blocked out whatever else Danny said. She stood there, her legs beginning to tremble, her heart racing, and stared in disbelief as the soldiers proceeded to unload the medications the governor had given them. She felt frozen, unable to move as all that they had worked for was whisked away. This couldn’t be happening. Surely it was a nightmare that she’d wake from. She literally shook her head, trying to clear it. But nothing changed. The nightmare was real.
“You can’t take our supplies.” Max moved toward Danny. When the soldier guarding them pointed his weapon directly at Max’s chest, he raised his hands and froze.
“I can, and I am.” Danny’s expression had hardened, and he refused to meet Shelby’s eyes.
“Why would you?”
“Because we need these supplies.”
Patrick was only a few feet away, standing close to Bianca. “The governor assured us—”
“The governor doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“But you do?” Bianca spat the words at him.
Shelby continued to stare as each box of supplies, every vial of insulin was taken from them and placed in the back of the jeep.
“You can’t do this.” A fierce energy possessed her, a desperation that she could no more control than she could stop the sun from rising and beating down on them. She darted toward the jeep, saw another soldier raise his gun, but she didn’t care at that moment. It didn’t matter. If they couldn’t get the insulin to Carter, none of this mattered. “You can’t, and I won’t let you.”
She snatched at one of the boxes, and then Danny was on her, his hands like vise grips on her arms, pulling her back and away from the supplies.
“Stop it! Let me go.” She kicked at him, attempted to bite him, twisted and turned and fought to free herself. “Those are mine! They are mine and I’m taking them home.”
“Let her go.” Max’s voice rang out like thunder. He moved toward them, his face a mask of fury.
The soldiers seemed uncertain what to do next. Perhaps Danny had told them they’d hand over the supplies with no resistance. Maybe they were hesitant to fire a shot inside the compound. The six unloading supplies froze, and the two with raised weapons took a step closer.
Danny raised a hand to indicate he had control of the situation. No doubt he didn’t want to get shot in the crossfire, but stopping his soldiers was a mistake.
At that moment, Max stepped closer, intent on pulling Shelby away. She saw what was happening but something inside was tearing apart. She could hear—as if from a distance—her own screams and sobs, Patrick and Bianca and Max screaming, Danny warning everyone to back away.
Danny was still clutching her with one hand. She attempted to claw his fingers away. Weeping and begging and digging at his hand with her fingernails, she didn’t realize what Danny was doing until his right fist connected with Max’s jaw. The punch knocked him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and moved to charge Danny, but two of the solders restrained him.
“Stop it!” Danny snarled, shaking Shelby as if she were a rag doll. “Do you actually think you deserve these supplies? Why you and no one else? What makes you so special?”
“The governor gave it to us!” Bianca shouted.
Patrick had his arms around her and was holding her back.
“The governor won’t be in power much longer.” He continued to grasp Shelby’s arm, even as she desperately lurched for the last box of insulin. “Reed is too soft, and she doesn’t quite appreciate the situation we’re in.”
“But you understand it? I guess you have all the answers.” Max spat, and blood trickled from his mouth. The wrath on his face mirrored Shelby’s heart.
“Yes, Max, I do. I understand this situation better than she does and better than Mayor Perkins. Why do you think I left? I’d be surprised if Abney is still standing when you get there.”
“What happened to you, Danny?”
“I opened my eyes. That’s what happened, and if you want to survive, you will too.”
“How is your plan better?”
“This medicine will go to soldiers—men and women who can defend our border.”
“Defend it from whom?”
“If we don’t have that perimeter, we don’t have anything. And what does the governor do? She gives away the very supplies that will ensure our troops are still around. She’s giving away our only chance for survival.”
Shelby realized that appealing to Danny’s logical side wasn’t going to work. Something had happened to him. He had turned into a post-apocalyptic creature, something worthy of their pity and maybe their fear. But she didn’t have time for either. She could not, would not, allow him to take what was theirs. She wished with all of her might that she had her gun. She would pull the trigger without thinking twice. She would not abandon any hope that her son had. She would do anything for Carter. She would kill for him.
“It’s Carter’s only chance.” She began to plead. “You know him, Danny. You know us. You asked us to go with you, to settle on your place.”
“And you turned me down. For what? For these three idiots?”
“Is that what this is about? I hurt your pride?”
“You helped me see that people are not willing to change even when there’s no other option.”
“I’m taking that medicine.” She yanked with all her might, attempting to free herself from his grip, but he only held on more tightly. She could feel the bruising, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but that last box of insulin.
“No, Shelby. You’re not.”
Suddenly she reversed directions. Instead of pulling away from him, she launched her body at him, surprising the soldiers who attempted to drag her back. She kicked, scratched, and would have bit him if she hadn’t been yanked away.
“You’re going to kill him!”
“He would have died regardless.” Danny pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it up to the scratch below his right eye.
“You have no right to say that!”
“What did you get? Enough insulin for a year? What happens after that?”
But she wasn’t listening, wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She sank to the ground, fell upon her knees and dropped her forehead to the dirt. The weeping and wails that br
oke from her sounded as if they came from some distant, wounded animal. But the ache inside her heart felt very close. She was certain, in that moment, that the agony and despair would be the end of her, right there on that hot July afternoon in Austin, Texas.
FIFTY-FIVE
Max half carried, half pulled Shelby to the Dodge. Reaching in, he yanked the seat belt across her and shut the door. A feeling like ice had settled in his veins.
He turned again to Danny. “Give us back our guns.”
“So you can shoot me? Get out of my sight, Max, and when you pray tonight, if you still pray, thank God that I didn’t kill you.”
Max rounded the front of the Dodge, glancing back at Patrick, who was chest to chest with one of Vail’s goons.
“You have exactly five seconds once I open that gate. I suggest you use it wisely.”
Danny’s words brought Patrick around. He pushed past the soldier, made sure Bianca was in the Mustang, and started the engine with a roar.
The soldiers opened the gate just enough for them to squeeze through. Danny had planned his sabotage well. They’d been shielded from the bulk of the people waiting outside the gate by the stacked storage containers. Max guessed from the looks on their faces that they must have heard the shouting, but they were too intent on surging in to care. He glanced in his rearview mirror in time to see one of Danny’s soldiers hit one of the men with the butt of his rifle. The man collapsed like a punctured balloon.
Max kept his speed under five miles an hour as men, women, and children slowly moved out of the way. Once Patrick’s vehicle had passed through, the crowd swarmed back in on the gate.
A sea of humanity—waiting for help. What they didn’t know was that the government inside that gate was crumbling.
Max drove north and then west with no destination in mind. He only knew that it was important for them to keep moving, to find a way out of the crowds. Finally, he spied a deserted parking lot next to a burned-out grocery store. He pulled in.
“Shelby.”
She’d been disturbingly quiet since they’d left the compound, occasionally wiping at the tears falling down her cheeks. But at the sound of his voice, she threw open her door and catapulted out of the car.
Patrick and Bianca joined them in seconds.
“We have to go back.” Shelby paced away from them and then back. “That was your plan, right? We go back to the front gates. The governor will let us in, and then—”
“Gabe was the only reason they let us in the first time.” Patrick’s temper had cooled, but Max could tell that he continued to seethe from what had just happened. In a fair fight, Danny wouldn’t have stood a chance against Patrick. But it hadn’t been a fair fight. Max’s aching jaw attested to that.
“We’ll find a way, Shelby.” He stepped in front of her, but she skirted around him and continued to pace.
“We promised you we would find a way,” Bianca agreed. “We promised and we will.”
“But it’s not back in the compound.” Max rested with his back against the Dodge. Heat radiated off of it, and his mind darted to the people who must be huddling in their houses and apartments. How would anyone who was sick survive this heat wave? And what chance did they have in a town with over a million desperate people?
Had they been naive to try and do this?
Then he thought of Carter, and his resolved hardened and took shape again. It became something that obliterated all doubt.
“I don’t know if we’ll find enough insulin for a month or a year or a lifetime, but we will find some. Bianca’s right. We promised you, and no one here is reneging on that promise.”
“How? The hospitals?”
Shelby had stopped pacing. Now she stood five feet from him, her eyes swollen and her face tear stained. He could see the bruising on her arms from Danny’s grip, and he had to fight the urge to go back to the capitol.
“We haven’t tried that yet. I know what Bill said, but do you think possibly the hospitals could have it?” Her expression, even now, transformed with hope.
“No good,” Patrick said. “Whatever they have is going to be guarded, and based on what I heard from the troops, most of the hospitals were overrun in the first forty-eight hours.”
“The university.” Bianca moved next to Max and hopped up to sit on the hood. It looked so natural, so carefree, that a tiny bit of the ball of tension inside of Max began to unwind.
“The first night we were in the compound, Bhatti—I mean, Gabe—said something about the university. That the…the troops hadn’t been able to raid the infirmary because Governor Reed wouldn’t allow them to storm through the students.” Bianca stared off to the north. “It’s possible.”
“The university buildings will be guarded too,” Max reminded her. “I heard that there are factions that have formed in different parts of the campus.”
“But they’re kids…” Shelby strode back to the Dodge and opened the door. “They’re only kids, and they’ll listen. We’ll make them listen.”
Max wanted to point out that they had no weapons, that they would be traveling through dangerous neighborhoods, that their chances of success were minimal.
But he said none of that.
Instead, he started the Dodge at the same moment Patrick fired up the Mustang. Together they turned northeast.
Less than three miles to go.
They would find a way through.
FIFTY-SIX
Carter actually enjoyed leaving the house early, walking across three fields, and scrambling down the steep incline to the creek. Setting the trotline was a chore he looked forward to, maybe because it allowed him to play in the water. It was easier work than a day in the fields. He was surprised that his shoulder felt pretty good, and the ear seemed to be healing nicely. He pulled down on the brim of Max’s hat—his hat—and decided to enjoy the day.
The temperature had been close to eighty when he’d shouldered his pack and left the house, hot for early July. Usually they didn’t see this type of unrelenting heat until late July or August. The clouds only pressed down and made things hotter. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. In the old days, he would spend the worst part of the summer inside playing video games.
He didn’t miss the games as much as he thought he would, but what he’d give for five minutes on his cell phone—to check the weather, text a friend, google water moccasins. He trudged through the brush, eyes on the ground in case anything slithered or rattled, and made his way to the edge of the creek.
The water level was lower in places than it had been a week before, even with the rains. He wondered about that—did it mean that someone had put in a dam farther up the stream? They might have to check it out, but today his job was to bait the trotline before heading over to Tate’s, where they’d set additional hog traps. The contraptions he’d made with spare auto parts had seemed to work. He thought that they’d be able to harvest quite a few more of the animals—one thing they had was an endless supply of wild hogs.
But Roy had reminded him that the fish continued to be an important part of their diet. He had set the line across a deep hole, which required Carter to wade in up past his knees, scramble over rocks that had created a sort of small waterfall, and then reach down over the drop and pull up the line.
The hooks were empty, which surprised him. They’d been catching fish regularly up until a few days ago, but the last three times he’d checked the lines, they were empty. Roy had come with him the last time to see if he was doing something wrong.
“Looks to me like you have the bait on there just right. A fish shouldn’t be able to pull that off because you put the hook through the gristle just like I taught you.”
“Then why are they empty?”
Roy shrugged. “Man cannot understand the mind of a fish. Don’t wear yourself out trying.”
Now Carter studied the empty hook and wondered what was going on. There was no trace of the bait they’d left for the catfish and bass. No trace of a fish that had be
come caught and somehow freed itself. No trace of anything.
He unzipped his backpack and pulled out the Tupperware container from the inner pocket. The container was long and thin, probably designed for spaghetti or some type of pasta. They didn’t have any spaghetti, and Georgia had thought it would be a great bait keeper, which it was.
Carter pinched off a couple pieces of bait—fish guts mixed with squirrel meat and held together with something out of a plastic container. The smell was atrocious, but Roy swore by the stuff. Carter worked it onto the hook like Roy had shown him. Satisfied that it would hold, he made his way down the line, placing more bait on each hook.
He’d moved past the middle of the line and was working his way down the far side when his foot hit a slick spot—algae or moss or wet leaves. He might have been all right, but when he started to fall, he threw himself in the opposite direction to counter gravity, and the Tupperware slipped out of his hand. Lurching to catch it, he twisted awkwardly, all while falling forward into the deep part of the creek. He felt more than heard the bone in his leg snap. Pain flooded through his body, and for a moment he thought he might drown, floundering in four feet of water.
His heart rate spiked as he grabbed his leg, but touching it only made things worse. A scream escaped his lips. He had to push past the pain and think straight.
He sputtered and splashed and finally managed to dog-paddle over to the bank, where he used his good arm to pull himself up into a sitting position. His left shoulder throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his leg. That was a deep ache, so intense that he had trouble focusing his mind on any one thing. The pain flooded his senses, and then his head began to pound as if he were experiencing the worst headache imaginable. Is that how Max’s migraines felt? Carter hoped not. He would hate to think that anyone would go through this on a regular basis.
Attempting to stand only dumped him back into the water, so he snatched his hat from the stream and once again crawled to the far bank, which was closer than the one he’d climbed down to get there. He managed to pull himself under the branches of an oak tree as the rain started—softly at first, but slowly turning into a heavy downpour.
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