by Tate, Harley
“Don’t thank me until we find a vaccine.”
Tracy shook her head. She meant the words from the bottom of her heart. No matter what happened next—even if she lost her husband and her daughter—Brianna deserved unparalleled praise.
She opened her mouth to say so when the SUV slowed. Tracy leaned forward in her seat. “What is that?”
The younger woman squinted into the dark before turning to Tracy. “I think it’s a roadblock.”
Chapter Seventeen
TRACY
State Route 918
Truckee, CA
8:00 p.m.
Brianna took her foot off the gas and Tracy leaned forward, gripping the cracked dash of the borrowed SUV. “Is it a car wreck?”
“I don’t think so.”
As they eased closer, Tracy’s unease grew. It pricked the back of her neck and rose the hair on her arms. Something was wrong. Her voice warbled as she spoke. “Don’t stop.”
“There’s nowhere to go.” Brianna swiveled around in the driver’s seat. “The last cross street is way behind us.”
The headlights illuminated a snowed-over formation spanning both lanes of the road. Too straight to be accidental and too tall to drive over. She fumbled for her flashlight and shined it outside the passenger window. Trees hugged the asphalt, bunched in groups too tight to squeeze through. In the daylight, they might have a chance, but not now with clouds covering the moon and forest blocking their lines of sight.
She clicked off her light. “How far are we from the hospital?”
“A few miles at least. The outskirts of town should be just ahead.”
Tracy chastised herself for being complacent. Instead of keeping her eyes and ears open, she’d focused on the hospital and ignored the drive. But she knew better. The woods could always hide a threat.
She glanced at Brianna. Her knuckles matched the snow. “We should turn around and find another way.”
The younger woman put the Explorer in reverse. Headlights lit up their rear window. Tracy twisted around, panic rising like acid in her throat. “The vehicle is large, oversized. The headlights are far off the ground.” She reached for her rifle. “This isn’t just a roadblock.”
Brianna spun the wheel. “Make sure your seatbelt’s fastened. This could get rough.”
Tracy checked the buckle. “How do we want to play this?”
“Like we’ve been ambushed.” Brianna slammed on the brakes as the Explorer finished the turn and jammed it into drive. “They follow us, you start shooting.”
Tracy checked the rifle to ensure it was ready to fire. “Will do.”
Brianna wasted no time. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor and the SUV fishtailed before accelerating.
The headlights in front of them stayed steady, growing larger and larger as they approached. Tracy ground her teeth together. It was impossible to judge the distance in the dark.
As they neared, the beams of light focused into twin points with the vague shape of a pickup truck beyond. Could a rusty SUV that hadn’t been driven in months outrun the truck in front of them?
Tracy wasn’t sure. She cranked down the window. “Pass them on the left. I want to get a look.”
Brianna nodded. Tracy braced herself. Closer, closer, closer.
Cut to black.
The headlights disappeared.
Brianna cursed. “What do I do?”
“Keep going.”
Within seconds, they blew past a hulking shape. The pickup hadn’t moved. Tracy unbuckled her seatbelt and clambered over the center console.
“What are you doing?”
“They aren’t going to let us go.” She fell into the back seat as Brianna punched the gas. “Just warn me before you jump a ditch.”
Blood pounded in Tracy’s skull and her fingers shook on the rifle, but she couldn’t let her nerves get the better of her. First Walter, then Madison, now this.
She’d been so deluded into thinking the worst was behind them. Just because they found a safe place to sleep at night didn’t mean it was over. The world around them waited to tear their family apart.
Tracy refused to let that happen. Whoever was in that pickup wasn’t going to run them off the road or chase them down or even get within five feet of their vehicle.
No way. She would keep them back and they would make it to the hospital. Madison’s life depended on it. Her daughter wasn’t going to die a painful, agonizing death because Tracy failed.
With a deep breath, she hooked one leg over the rear seat and straddled the back as the SUV bounced down the road. She couldn’t gauge speed in the dark, but the slipping wheels and the curses from Brianna up front gave Tracy a pretty good idea. They were going faster than they should on a road covered in snow and ice.
She fell into the cargo area with her pack and her rifle, crunching onto a cardboard box full of something soft and scratchy. She reached inside. Wool blankets. Tracy grabbed them by the handfuls, holding her breath as clouds of dust flew in her face. She tossed them on the floor in front of the rear door.
As she kneeled on the blankets, she reached for the glass, running her hands along the edge. Come on. She hollered toward the front. “Can you pop the glass from up there?”
Brianna glanced up in the rearview. “Are you crazy? You’ll fall out!”
“Do you want me to stop these people or not?”
“We can outrun them.”
“What if we can’t?” Tracy braced herself with her knees tight against the bottom of the door. “Pop the glass.”
Brianna fumbled with buttons on the top of the dash and the lock on the window unlatched. Tracy pushed it open. The wind picked up her hair and blew it across her face. Cold didn’t begin to describe it. She sucked back an instant stream of snot and clamped her jaw shut.
I can do this.
Secure against the window, she reached into her bag for a flashlight and her DIY roll of duct tape.
“Any sign of them?”
Tracy glanced up. “We’re going too fast. I can’t tell if they’re back there or if we’ve lost them.” She unrolled a strip of tape. “Give me a minute. I’ve got an idea.”
Brianna kept driving as fast as she could and still keeping control while Tracy wrapped strips of tape around the barrel of the rifle and the light. Once the flashlight was secure, she leaned over and rested the rifle on the rubber window gasket. It wasn’t perfect, but thanks to the beat-up cardboard box, she could keep the gun steady.
She shouted at Brianna. “Ready?”
“For anything!”
One benefit of tactical flashlights was the range. Tracy clicked on the light. A clear circle of steady light illuminated the road behind the Explorer and a massive Chevy pickup truck no more than twenty feet behind them.
Tracy shrieked. “They’re right behind us! Two men in the front seat!”
“Take them out!”
Tracy took aim. Snow and ice from the Explorer’s rear tires flicked into her face. The truck chasing them slammed on its brakes.
No! She pointed at the diminishing shape of the man behind the wheel and fired. The truck shimmied as it came to a stop, receding into the distance as Brianna kept driving.
“Did you hit it?”
“I don’t know! They stopped.”
The SUV slowed.
“Don’t slow down! If I hit it, maybe we can get away!”
Brianna punched the gas and Tracy fell to the side, bringing the rifle with her. The flashlight slammed against the rear door as Tracy’s head cracked against the side window. The light flicked out.
“You okay?”
Tracy palmed her head with a wince, checking for a wound. No blood. She exhaled in relief. “Yeah.” As she picked herself up, she reached for the flashlight. “Keep driving.”
Please be gone. Please, please be gone. Tracy repositioned herself on the blankets and propped the gun back on the window before reaching for the flashlight. She clicked it back on.
The wind ripp
ed her scream away. A huge grille bore down on the SUV and Tracy fought to keep a handle on her wits and the rifle. She leaned down to aim when the truck’s headlights flashed on bright. All she could see was light.
She blinked and spots swam in her vision. Damn it!
Brianna shouted from the front. “Get down!”
Tracy pulled the rifle off the back and fell onto the floor. “I can’t see.”
“They’re gaining.”
Tracy blinked. Flashes of red and white bounced in front of her eyes. She fumbled for the seat back.
“I think they’re gonna ram us!” Brianna half-shrieked. “I can’t go any faster!”
They couldn’t get run off the road. If the truck hit them, Brianna would lose control. Tracy blinked again and the red blended into spotty shapes. She couldn’t climb up into the front and wait for the people in the truck to take them out.
She had to fight back. No giving up. No admitting defeat. Tracy grunted as she shoved the cardboard box toward the back.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending this.” Tracy inhaled through her nose and pulled the rifle up onto the box. It cleared the window ledge by an inch. Thanks to the high beams, she couldn’t see, but it didn’t matter.
She had a full magazine and an extra after that. If she didn’t hit the driver after thirty rounds, then she might as well let them kill her. She exhaled and took aim two feet above the center of the right light.
Pull, pull, pull. Tracy fired off shot after shot, not stopping until the entire magazine was empty. The truck rattled and shook. The horn blared.
She held her breath. The headlights began to fade and bounce. As she watched, they wobbled to the left and veered off the road.
“Did you hit them?”
Tracy waited to make sure. “I think so. It looks like it’s in the ditch.”
Brianna whooped for joy. “Way to go!”
Tracy reached out with shaky fingers for the open window and pulled it down via the latch. She managed to shut it after a few tries with a solid yank that sent her flying.
The truck’s headlights faded and the back of the SUV darkened.
I did it. I really did it.
Tracy stayed on her back, catching her breath until the last of the light from the pickup truck disappeared. Only then did she climb back over the seat and the console and join Brianna in the front.
Her daughter’s best friend reached out and grabbed her hand. “Thank you, Tracy.”
“Thank you. That was some fine driving.” She reached down to the floor and fished out a bottle of water. After draining half of it, she handed it to Brianna, who finished it off. “Do you think you can still find the hospital?”
Brianna nodded. “We can come at it from the east. It’s a bit longer route, but assuming we don’t hit any more roadblocks, we should be there within the hour.”
Tracy buckled her seatbelt and leaned back. Hopefully by the time they found the hospital, she could catch her breath.
Chapter Eighteen
COLT
Unidentified Farm
Near Truckee, CA
8:00 p.m.
The barn door loomed ahead. Colt hugged the worn siding, keeping low and out of sight. So far, he’d encountered zero resistance. Either a million men waited inside the barn, or the operation was significantly smaller than it appeared.
He stopped at the corner. With a rifle slung over his shoulder, his Sig in his hand, and a backup Glock 19 in an appendix holster, he had enough firepower to handle a small platoon. But the sight of the children nagged him. Dani had been practically an orphan and when he found her; it wasn’t pretty.
Killing a father didn’t sit well with him. Colt exhaled. He would only shoot if absolutely necessary.
Using his free hand, he slid the door to the barn open enough to squeeze through. It wasn’t a stable. The entire place had been turned into living quarters. He slid the door shut and faced a small antechamber.
Walls had been roughed-in a ten-by-ten-foot room with a door leading to additional areas beyond. No taller than eight feet in height, the walls lacked paint. Drywall mud tracked across the seams and nail holes.
Someone knew how to build but didn’t have the time or money to finish. He frowned. It wasn’t what he expected. How many rooms waited on the other side? Colt strode toward the interior door.
He put his ear up to the hollow core. Silence.
The handle turned in his grip and he swung the door out wide, gun up and ready. A hallway greeted him.
Shit.
Rooms flanked the hall all the way down the length of the barn, five on each side at least. He would have to search one by one to find Walter. How many were empty? How many held someone who could sound an alarm?
He stepped with caution along the unfinished plywood floor, counting the rooms and assessing the odds. Eleven more closed doors on the sides and one at the end. Based on the ceiling, the hallway ended short, only three-quarters of the way down the length of the barn. He guessed the final door led to a great room. Maybe a cafeteria or a meeting space. A place to house vehicles.
Colt sucked in a breath. It didn’t smell like gasoline or rubber. It smelled like a barn. Rough wood and dirt and stale animal stink.
It hadn’t been converted to human space for long.
He hurried back to the beginning and braced himself for door number one across from the antechamber. With a quick turn of the knob, it opened. Colt exhaled. Empty.
A bunk bed flanked the far wall and a pair of small desks perched against the other. A dorm room. Or a barracks. He shut the door and kept going.
The next three were the same. All empty, all made for two people.
He was beginning to think this place was more than a family farm. The next door opened to an office with a single desk, rows of bookshelves stuffed to the gills behind it. He eased inside and scanned the titles.
Archery 101.
Farming for Urbanites.
Field Dressing for Dummies.
Shoot First.
He frowned. Everything someone would need to start over in the new America and stay alive doing it. Urgency mixed with dread in Colt’s veins and he wiped a burst of sweat off his forehead.
The next room smelled of wool and mothballs and contained more clothes and blankets and towels than Colt had seen in one place outside of a department store. He shut the door and kept going. More barracks. They could house eighteen people in the barn, two to a room.
Colt swallowed. Eighteen people prepped to fight would be a formidable force. He hoped Dani was following his instructions. She couldn’t defend herself against even half that many. She needed to hide.
Stepping back into the hallway, Colt paused. The large room at the end beckoned. If Walter was still in the barn, he had to be there. He readied himself and opened the door.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. Not of horses or manure or a stable full of farm equipment, but coffee. Fresh-brewed coffee.
Four long wood tables occupied the middle of the space with a roughed-in kitchen along the far wall. Comfortable chairs were clumped on the end with coffee tables and stacks of books. It was a rec room. And it wasn’t empty.
Walter sat at a table, coffee mug in one hand and a half-eaten biscuit in the other. Colt shut the door and rushed him. “Let’s get out of here.”
Walter blinked. “Colt? What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you. Come on.”
“What? No, no.” Walter shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
Colt spied the bandage on his shoulder. “You were shot! I knew it.” He reached for the other man’s arm. “Dani and Larkin are outside. We need to go, now.”
“Is that what the commotion is about? Oh, Colt. This will never work.”
“Of course it will as long as we hurry.”
An oversized exterior door on the other side of the room slid open and a lantern bobbed in the air. A stream of children filed in, one after the other, a
nd took their seats on a bench at one of the tables. Ranging in age from four to at least sixteen, they all stopped and stared when they spotted Colt.
Whispers ran down the length of the table as a woman in black pants and parka entered the room. With hair the color of terra-cotta, she reminded Colt of the flight attendant back in Eugene.
When she saw Colt, she froze. “Can I help you?”
Colt glanced at Walter. “I’m taking this man out of here.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to Benjamin about that.”
“No, I don’t.” Colt moved closer to Walter and dropped his voice. “Come with me now and you can explain everything later.”
Walter smiled at the woman. “It’s okay, Jenny. He won’t hurt me.”
“You know the rules, Walt. We can’t let him leave.”
Colt’s eyes bounced back and forth. Jenny? Walt? Did they know each other? What the hell was going on?
A shout rose from outside the barn and Colt’s insides twisted. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Stay still!” A man’s booming voice cut off the scream.
“Ben!” Jenny cupped her mouth and shouted at the open doorway. “In here!”
A moment later, one of the men Colt watched rush from the house entered dragging Dani along behind. She looked around in a panic, blood dripping from a wound in her scalp. It coated her cheek and fell to the floor in fat, wet plops.
“Dani!”
She jerked her head toward Colt’s voice and the man holding her brought up his gun: a shotgun with a short barrel and a pistol grip. Based on the way he held it, Colt guessed he could fire it one-handed without a problem and put a hole half a foot wide in Colt’s chest.
Not good.
“Who the hell are you?”
