there,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He made a face and turned toward the window. Fields, forests, houses, and barns whipped by. Leo directed Anika along a winding route that avoided all but the smallest towns. While I’d been bandaging Justin’s leg, we’d managed to swing around to head south again. The roads were clear, the night’s ice melting into puddles on the asphalt. Without snow slowing us down, we might be able to make it all the way to Atlanta by tonight.
But not without fuel. As we crested a small hill, about an hour after we’d raced away from the substation, the engine sputtered. My hopes plummeted.
“Shit,” Anika said faintly. The engine’s noise stilled to a purr, sputtered again, and then choked off completely.
Using the momentum of the slope, we managed to steer the SUV down a lane behind a rusty silo. I climbed out into mid-morning air that felt faintly warm against my skin. We were stranded, exposed, in the midst of a tract of farmland that sprawled out beyond the foot of the shadowy mountains. Only thin rows of trees divided the open fields. The nearest house, a broad brick structure on the other side of the road, looked to be at least a fifteen-minute walk away. And just a few small splotches of snowy white glinted amid the fallow soil. In an hour or two, I suspected they’d have melted away completely.
“What the hell are we going to do?” Anika said, pacing beside the SUV.
Justin leaned out past the open door. “We can’t just sit here.”
“No,” I said. We had to keep moving—that I knew for sure. “We’ll have to leave the SUV. Obviously. Either we find another car that works and we go on in that, or we find gas and we come back here.”
“If we might not come back, let’s see how much we can carry,” Leo said.
He popped the hatch, and we stared at the heap of supplies inside in silence. We’d brought a few of the sleds we’d used on the road before, but they’d just slow us down without snow to coast on. Tobias had contributed a couple army packs along with his other equipment. I pulled the one that held the tent and the camping stove over my shoulders, trying not to think about where Tobias might be now, how far we’d left him behind.
Leo stuffed the other pack with bottles of water and cans of food, what remained from our scavenging in Toronto. We each shoved a flashlight into a coat pocket. Anika gathered up the bags holding our blankets. Justin had brought the first-aid kit out from the backseat, and squeezed it into the rolled sleeping bag he swung onto his back. I hefted the cold box and two of the jugs we used to siphon gas, and Leo picked up the radio transceiver in its plastic case. It sat awkwardly in his arms. But we needed it if we were going to contact the CDC for further instructions.
Justin slid out the hunting rifle we’d lifted from the first Wardens we’d confronted, gripping the muzzle and bracing the butt against the ground like a walking stick. The flaps of his cut-up jeans wavered around his calves. We had extra sweaters and hats, even two extra coats, but no good pants to give him.
“We’ll check the houses for something better for you to wear,” I said, and he looked down at his legs as if he hadn’t even thought about it.
“It’s not too cold,” he said. But as we set off across the field, he walked with a noticeable limp, his hand tight on the rifle. After several hurried steps, his forehead was gleaming with perspiration.
“Hey,” I said, grasping his shoulder. “We can go a little slower. If you push yourself too hard, we’ll end up having to carry you.”
“I can take the sleeping bag,” Leo offered.
Justin shook his head vehemently, but he eased up his pace, hobbling as the rest of us ambled along the road toward the nearest house. I kept my ears perked for the faintest hint of an approaching vehicle. We were like wounded ducks fluttering around in a pond here, hoping the hound would miss our scent.
He made a face and turned toward the window. Fields, forests, houses, and barns whipped by. Leo directed Anika along a winding route that avoided all but the smallest towns. While I’d been bandaging Justin’s leg, we’d managed to swing around to head south again. The roads were clear, the night’s ice melting into puddles on the asphalt. Without snow slowing us down, we might be able to make it all the way to Atlanta by tonight.
But not without fuel. As we crested a small hill, about an hour after we’d raced away from the substation, the engine sputtered. My hopes plummeted.
“Shit,” Anika said faintly. The engine’s noise stilled to a purr, sputtered again, and then choked off completely.
Using the momentum of the slope, we managed to steer the SUV down a lane behind a rusty silo. I climbed out into mid-morning air that felt faintly warm against my skin. We were stranded, exposed, in the midst of a tract of farmland that sprawled out beyond the foot of the shadowy mountains. Only thin rows of trees divided the open fields. The nearest house, a broad brick structure on the other side of the road, looked to be at least a fifteen-minute walk away. And just a few small splotches of snowy white glinted amid the fallow soil. In an hour or two, I suspected they’d have melted away completely.
“What the hell are we going to do?” Anika said, pacing beside the SUV.
Justin leaned out past the open door. “We can’t just sit here.”
“No,” I said. We had to keep moving—that I knew for sure. “We’ll have to leave the SUV. Obviously. Either we find another car that works and we go on in that, or we find gas and we come back here.”
“If we might not come back, let’s see how much we can carry,” Leo said.
He popped the hatch, and we stared at the heap of supplies inside in silence. We’d brought a few of the sleds we’d used on the road before, but they’d just slow us down without snow to coast on. Tobias had contributed a couple army packs along with his other equipment. I pulled the one that held the tent and the camping stove over my shoulders, trying not to think about where Tobias might be now, how far we’d left him behind.
Leo stuffed the other pack with bottles of water and cans of food, what remained from our scavenging in Toronto. We each shoved a flashlight into a coat pocket. Anika gathered up the bags holding our blankets. Justin had brought the first-aid kit out from the backseat, and squeezed it into the rolled sleeping bag he swung onto his back. I hefted the cold box and two of the jugs we used to siphon gas, and Leo picked up the radio transceiver in its plastic case. It sat awkwardly in his arms. But we needed it if we were going to contact the CDC for further instructions.
Justin slid out the hunting rifle we’d lifted from the first Wardens we’d confronted, gripping the muzzle and bracing the butt against the ground like a walking stick. The flaps of his cut-up jeans wavered around his calves. We had extra sweaters and hats, even two extra coats, but no good pants to give him.
“We’ll check the houses for something better for you to wear,” I said, and he looked down at his legs as if he hadn’t even thought about it.
“It’s not too cold,” he said. But as we set off across the field, he walked with a noticeable limp, his hand tight on the rifle. After several hurried steps, his forehead was gleaming with perspiration.
“Hey,” I said, grasping his shoulder. “We can go a little slower. If you push yourself too hard, we’ll end up having to carry you.”
“I can take the sleeping bag,” Leo offered.
Justin shook his head vehemently, but he eased up his pace, hobbling as the rest of us ambled along the road toward the nearest house. I kept my ears perked for the faintest hint of an approaching vehicle. We were like wounded ducks fluttering around in a pond here, hoping the hound would miss our scent.
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