by Kyla Stone
“It’s only been a couple of days,” Shay said with forced cheerfulness. “There’s still time. The government will send in the National Guard to come in and rescue all these people. I’m sure of it. They’re just waiting for the radiation to go down, like us.”
Where she’d managed to dredge up this terrible optimism, Dakota had no idea. She just stared at her, incredulous. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“We can’t lose hope.” Shay carefully took the M&Ms from Julio and smoothed the wrinkled brown bag between her fingers. She didn’t eat any, just stared down at it with red-rimmed eyes and a small half-smile. “My mom says things always look better in the morning.”
“How do they look for that dead mother and her baby?”
Shay pressed her lips together. “I’m just trying to think positive, okay?”
Anger flashed through Dakota, hard and fast. “You’re acting like everything’s fine when the world’s crashing down all around you!”
Julio shot her a warning look. She ignored him.
She waved her arms, encompassing the ruins surrounding them. “You know better than I do that all these trapped people can’t survive another day without water, even if their injuries and the radiation aren’t enough to kill them. I know you know that.”
Shay went still, that half-smile frozen on her face. “I do know.”
“Really? Because you’re not acting like it.”
“Dakota—” Julio started.
“It’s fine,” Shay said.
“It’s not fine!” Dakota exploded.
Anger flushed through her—a part of her knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t help herself. She kept seeing that dead baby, that mother’s desperate, tortured gaze locked onto her own.
“It’s not okay! You have to see things the way they are, not the way you want them to be! Anything else is stupidity. And stupid gets people killed.”
“That’s enough!” Julio spread out his hands between them, like he was blocking a physical fight. He shot Dakota a pleading look. “Attacking each other isn’t going to do anyone any good.”
“No, it’s okay.” Shay dipped her chin graciously. “I understand where she’s coming from.”
Dakota snorted. “Like you understand anything!”
There was a tightness in her chest, a pressure building behind her sternum that she was helpless to stop. “You’re a rich princess with your future all laid out for you, nice and perfect—a fancy college and a nice house with a fenced yard and a two-car garage—”
“Enough!” Shay stood abruptly, the chair clattering to the pavement behind her.
11
Dakota
Dakota stared up at Shay, momentarily speechless.
Shay swayed a bit. “Now wait just a minute. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Shay—” Julio reached out to steady her, but she waved him away.
The smile dropped from her face. Her normally placid expression contorted in anger. “Yeah, I’ve got some good things in my life. You know what I don’t have? A dad. Because when I was sixteen, he went into our fancy two-car garage, put his gun in his mouth, and shot himself.”
Dakota rocked back in her chair, stunned. Guilt skewered her. She sucked in a sharp breath. “I—I didn’t know.”
Shay’s mouth trembled. She lifted one hand and pressed her fingers against her lips, but she kept her composure. “How could you have? But maybe give people the benefit of the doubt once in a while. Yeah, there’s a lot of assholes in the world. I get it. I wasn’t born yesterday.
“But I choose joy, okay? I could’ve let my dad’s suicide destroy me, like he let his bipolar disorder destroy him. I had a choice, just like we all have a choice on how we’re going to live our lives. I choose to be happy. I choose to see the joy in life, in spite of the crap. If I want to focus on the good, on hope—no matter how minuscule it is—then that’s what I’m going to do.”
She hesitated, as if debating whether to speak more. Her chin lifted. “And you—you don’t get to sit there and judge me.”
Dakota had no response.
Part of her wanted to snap right back with some snarky, smart-ass retort. Slap up the barriers and to hell with everyone else. Unleash all her pent-up fear, anger, and despair at this girl who just happened to be a convenient punching bag.
Another, more reasonable voice in her head argued for restraint.
She’d misjudged Shay more than once now. That was on her.
Shay wasn’t the enemy, anyway. She wasn’t the bad guy here, even when she was irritating as hell.
Everyone’s nerves were on edge. They were all stressed, tense, barely keeping it together. This journey had already become more harrowing than Dakota could’ve imagined.
Julio was right. Arguing over nothing only drained their precious energy and distracted them from the real threats.
Julio scooted over and righted Shay’s chair. She sank back into her seat with a grateful smile.
The three of them sat there in a long, uncomfortable silence.
The only sounds were the occasional distant moans of the suffering and the buzzing of flies in the humid air.
Julio reached across the table and covered Shay’s hand with his. “I’m sorry for your loss. Truly.”
“I’ve come to terms with it,” Shay said quietly. “But thank you.”
Dakota crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at the table. Eden always told her she was too stubborn. Admitting she was wrong was like pulling teeth.
Jeez, she missed that girl.
Eden was her compass, her north star. She felt lost without her, like she was unraveling, piece by piece.
“I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat,” she muttered finally.
Shay beamed at her. “Apology accepted.”
They were quiet for a minute.
Shay took a long drink from her water. Her expression grew serious. “My mother is pathologically cheerful. She ignored all my dad’s symptoms, like if she pretended hard enough that everything was okay, it would be. I tried to talk to her. But she refused to listen.
“She made excuses for him, said his back pain from working construction kept him in bed for weeks at a time, even after he lost his foreman job for missing so much work…She kept saying he was fine, that I was just trying to create drama and inflate my own ego by throwing around medical terms…”
She shook her head. “Those last few weeks, he suddenly started acting giddy. He gave his prize toolset away to a friend. He started saying he was going to take us to Disney World, even though he had social anxiety and loathed crowds. She just pretended it was all normal. She just wanted to live in a fantasy world. Until it was too late.
“Maybe…maybe if she’d acknowledged the warning signs, he’d still be here. I—I don’t want to be like that, either.”
Julio squeezed her hand in encouragement. “Don’t worry. You aren’t.”
“Everything is—I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around things, you know? The bombs, all this destruction, the suffering people, and no one here to help them. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
“No,” Dakota said quietly, “It’s not.”
No one said anything after that. What was there to say?
Dakota shifted uncomfortably and glanced down at her watch. They’d been here for far too long. It was time to get moving. “Where the heck is—”
“Right here.” Logan strode out of the convenience store carrying a six-pack in one hand and a small package in the other. “No water left, but plenty of happy juice.”
Dakota raised her brows. “Happy juice?”
He gave a careless shrug. “Something in this damn hellhole needs to bring a bit of happiness. Otherwise, what’s the point? You wanna join in the fun?”
“I’m surprised you’re offering to share,” Dakota said.
“Don’t you know? I’m full of surprises.” Logan tossed a pack of gum on the table for Shay.
“Thought you might like this.”
“Thank you!” Shay snatched it up. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He glanced around the table at the somber faces. “What’d I miss?”
Shay winked at Dakota as she tore into the gum. “Nothing too crucial.”
Logan came around to Dakota’s side. She smelled the alcohol on his breath. His rough cheeks were flushed, his eyes shiny.
Instinctively, she shied away as he leaned over her, her hand already going for her knife.
But all he did was pull a thick, folded paper out of his pocket and slap it on the table in front of her. He straightened. “Look at this. I found us an actual map.”
Dakota’s heart banged against her ribs. She released the hilt of the knife with a sharp exhale. There was no threat.
Rather, Logan had brought them something good for a change. She’d been worried about how they’d navigate without GPS once they’d rescued Eden.
She unfolded the map, spread it out on the table, and pointed to a spot just below and to the west of Wynwood. “We’re here.” She tapped a spot a quarter inch northwest. “Here’s Eden. After we get her, we head west a couple of miles to escape the radiation and find a working hotel for the night if we can.”
“How do we know when we’re out of the hot zone?” Logan asked.
“Without a Geiger counter, we don’t for sure,” Dakota said. “I think a couple miles west will get us clear. We’ll go as far as we can and then find shelter before dark. Hopefully, we’ll run into some first responders, police, EMTs, or firefighters by that point.”
“And after that?” Shay asked with a snap of her gum.
“Tomorrow, we should be clear enough of the rubble to find a car or bikes to travel faster,” Dakota said.
She’d love to get her hands on a radio for news. A ham radio, if she were really lucky. She knew Ezra’s call sign. If she could contact him, things would be so much easier.
And any ham operator worth their salt would be able to tell them what the hell was going on.
“We need to head here to get to the Trail.” Dakota’s finger edged through dense suburbia—through Little Havana, past the airport, the International and Dolphin malls, and IKEA to the Dade Corners Travel Center at the edge of the Glades. “Just about twenty miles.”
The Travel Center was a one-stop shop for gas, propane, fishing rods, camo gear, and of course, preserved gator heads and mugs in the shape of boobs.
She planned to stock up on supplies there—if there was anything left. Hopefully, the masses had stuck to Costco and Sam’s Club and left it alone.
Nearby, the Trail Glades Range offered a tempting array of weapons. If everything went as planned, she could return to Ezra with his favorite gift as a peace offering—a new rifle. At least she had the M4 to offer him.
If the road was blocked with cars, she could always steal an airboat from Coopertown, a few miles west. She knew how to operate one, and how to get close enough to Ezra’s to hike in.
No one else needed to know that.
Except for Julio, two days ago, they’d all been strangers. Still, she felt responsible for Julio and Shay. They were risking themselves to help her get to Eden.
And they trusted her to get them out of the hot zone safely.
The world was going to hell, but she wasn’t going down with it.
And she wasn’t planning on letting it happen to anyone on her watch, either.
She’d help Shay until they found her a hospital, leaving her in good hands. Once they hit the airport, Julio would break off on his own to find his wife anyway.
As for Logan, if he got the stick out of his ass, he’d help her protect Eden until they reached the Travel Center. Then she and Eden would sneak off and leave him to his own devices.
She didn’t worry about him the way she did with the others. Logan would survive just fine. She pushed down the guilt. Unlike Shay and Julio, she didn’t owe Logan Garcia a damn thing.
“What’s that sound?” Shay whispered.
Dakota looked up from the map. It took a moment for her brain to translate what her ears were hearing, so incongruous was it to their surroundings.
As they listened, the sound grew louder. And closer.
A car engine. And with it, music.
Dakota’s heart turned to ice inside her chest. She rose from her seat, already reaching for her knife. “Hide!”
12
Logan
Logan stood stock still, straining to listen. The music was a loud, thumping bass over the growl of an engine. It was coming from the northwest. And it was definitely coming closer.
“What do we do?” Julio asked as he helped Shay to her feet.
He glanced up the boulevard. While there were still crashed and abandoned cars, the road was wide enough for a car or two to weave through. No one would be going sixty miles an hour, but they could make it.
“I can think of a group who would hang around and play music,” Dakota said darkly.
“It’s either the Blood Outlaws or someone just as crazy or stupid,” Logan said. “Either way, we don’t want a meet and greet. We need to get out of here.”
He had no idea how many were in the oncoming car, or even if there were more than one vehicle. Waiting to see if they were hostile was idiotic. Taking on an unknown number of hostiles from an unprotected, indefensible position was even worse.
He twisted, scanning up and down the street. The storefronts to his right were connected for thirty yards in either direction, with no side alleys to escape through. They were small, one-room businesses that offered little cover or protection.
Across the street stood a First Federal Credit Union of Florida, a hair salon, a dry cleaners, and a four-story suite of offices. “The office! Hurry!”
Logan and Dakota sprinted across the street, dodging a white Kia Rio and a dented forest green Mazda3. The doors were glass—and broken, along with the windows, but the main façade was brick, thick enough to hide them and provide cover from hostile fire if it came to that. The large sign affixed to the front of the building read “Palm Industrial Center.”
The engine grew louder. It was coming from the side street ahead on the right, just north of the credit union on the corner.
Dakota slipped inside and pressed herself against the side wall out of sight. Logan followed and shrank back against the opposite wall, Glock in the low ready position.
They could hear someone laughing now, loud and maniacal over the thumping music. The car was close, about to turn.
Head north, head north, he chanted in his head, already known with a sinking certainty that the car would turn south toward them. Of course it would.
“Where are they?” Dakota whispered.
Logan cursed under his breath. Keeping his back against the wall, he turned and glanced out the doorway.
Julio had Shay around the waist, her arm draped across her shoulder, as they hobbled toward the safety of the building. They were still halfway across the street.
Julio froze. Shay’s eyes widened in terror.
“Get down!” Logan hissed frantically. “Beneath the car!”
The nearest vehicle was a bright yellow Jeep Renegade on the office side of the street, only a few feet from the curb and even less from Shay and Julio.
Shay came to life first. She grabbed Julio’s arm and dove for the pavement. Shay rolled beneath the undercarriage, ducking her head to miss the front wheel.
Julio dropped to his considerable belly and flattened himself, frantically trying to press into the small space. It didn’t work. His stomach was too large.
“Oh, hell,” Dakota muttered.
The front fender of a red sportscar nosed out past the bank’s stucco exterior.
Logan gestured with the muzzle of his pistol. “Get behind it!”
As the SUV maneuvered around two smashed cars in the center of the small intersection, Julio scrambled on his hands and knees for the rear of the Jeep. He crouched, back pressed against the trunk,
breathing heavily and clutching that cross like a lifeline. He stared at Logan with wide, terrified eyes.
Logan lifted one finger to his lips. Julio couldn’t move or make a sound. If he was discovered, they all were.
Julio gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.
Logan could just make out Shay’s form in the shadows beneath the Jeep. If they were lucky, the passengers in the sportscar would lack the situational awareness and sharp eye required to see what didn’t belong.
Maybe it was just a couple of rebellious teens out for a joy ride in the middle of an abandoned city. But Logan wasn’t naïve enough to believe that.
The car rumbled toward them.
Logan eased back from the doorway. He ducked below the nearest window, crossed beneath it, and crouched on the opposite side so he could glance through it at an angle while he was still shielded in heavy shadows. Heart racing, he raised the pistol, sighting the car as it came at them, ready to shoot.
It was a bright red Corvette, so shiny it almost hurt to look at it. The dealer tags and sales decals were still attached. It was definitely stolen, likely from a dealership just outside the localized EMP radius but inside the evacuated hot zone.
The top was down. Four passengers rode inside. They were young, in their teens and early twenties. All Latino, all tattooed, and except for the driver, all carrying assault rifles—an M4 and a couple of AR-15s.
A strong whiff of alcohol and weed reached his nostrils. They cruised slowly, music blasting, both rear passengers checking each side of the road. Raucous laughter echoed in the hot air.
They must be on patrol, either too stupid or too high to care about the radiation. Keep on driving, just keep driving on through.
The car zigzagged into the oncoming lane as it swerved to miss the Jeep parked in front of the office building. Shay lay absolutely still beneath the vehicle. Still, if someone looked closely, they’d see her arm, the shape of a leg, a white sneaker.
Julio was on his hands and knees at the rear of the Jeep, bending to peer beneath the undercarriage so he could watch the Corvette approach. It was a smart move, as there was no way for Logan to signal to either Julio or Shay from his vantage point behind the wall.
