She kept her body low, pressed close against the bike. The road became a blur of black pavement below her feet as the highway opened before her, clear and wide. She kept a firm grip on the handles, not wanting to lose control. Her balance was good, but she was unfamiliar with the finer points of handling the bike.
A bolt of excitement shot through her.
She was moving so fast. She could cover a massive amount of distance on this thing. She glanced at the speedometer. 45, 55… 60 miles per hour! It seemed incredible after spending days walking hundreds of miles.
Elle smiled and whooped loudly.
Below her, the bike purred and whisked her along the highway.
Chapter Five
Elle was a lone figure against the desert plain. She stood and looked at the dirt bike, leaning on its stand in the middle of the empty highway. It had run out of gas an hour ago. A bitter sweep of cold wind stung her cheeks, blowing dust across the road. Elle tightened her fingers into fists. There hadn’t been any cars for miles, nothing to siphon gas from.
Well. She had no more fuel. She had taken the bike as far as she could.
“Thanks for the memories,” she muttered.
It was late evening. Temperatures were dropping. Elle tucked her head between her shoulders and walked against the wind.
The Mojave Desert. A barren, desolate wasteland in this post-apocalyptic world. It seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, broken only by the occasional highway marker and bouncing tumbleweed. The sky was incredibly clear. As the sun set, the stars came into view. She could see the Milky Way and the Big Dipper. Bigger constellations that she couldn’t name swirled above her head. She felt like a speck in a snow globe, exposed and tiny.
As the night wore on, a thin layer of ice crusted over the top of the road. Elle’s fingers froze. Her face was numb. Bits of ice stuck to her eyelashes. She was bundled up in her jacket, wrapped in layers of clothing. It was barely enough to keep the cold at bay.
Up ahead, she could make out the shape of bushes near the side of the highway. She approached it, slowly. It was a small clump of brush. She kicked it, ready for something — maybe an animal — to come running out. There was nothing. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the middle of the brush. It was itchy and sharp. Branches scraped against her face. She pulled her hood tighter and shoved her hands in her pockets. She unzipped her pack.
There was a wool blanket rolled up. It was one of the heavier items that she had been lugging around. Many times she had almost discarded it because of the inconvenience, but tonight she was thankful for it. She wrapped it around herself and slapped her backpack on the ground, using it as a pillow.
She closed her eyes and tried to rest.
Morning came quickly. Elle snapped awake. Her lips were stiff, her joints were frozen. She stretched out her fingers and sat up. The brush was dusted with frost. The sun was rising in the east, behind the distant Tehachapi Mountains. It’s a beautiful scene, Elle thought. But it would be even more beautiful if she weren’t so cold.
She rifled through her supplies, staying inside the mediocre warmth of the shrubbery. She took a quick drink of water, ate an energy bar, and closed her backpack. Time to go. She took comfort in the fact that she had enough food to last for at least two weeks before she would need to hunt or scavenge — but only if she was wise, eating only as needed, not as wanted.
She crawled out of the brush and stood up, taking the sunglasses out of her pocket. She glanced at the map that Sienna had given her. She was following Highway 14. She had cut off a huge chunk of her journey by utilizing the dirt bike, but she still had another one hundred and seventy miles to go. It would take her four or five days on foot, she estimated.
A long time.
The sun rose, shedding a little bit of warmth on the desert. The highway began to curve. On the right side of the road, a sign read:
Elle pulled out her map. She found Rosamond and touched it with her finger. It was a little town, halfway across the desert. It was near Edwards Air Force Base. Elle didn’t think that there was any United States Military left there, and she didn’t want to risk finding out if Omega had taken over the base.
She would follow the highway through the city. It was the fastest route, and she doubted that a city in the middle of the desert would be populated with dangerous gangs like the Klan.
Elle passed the green directional sign. She glanced behind her shoulder and stopped. There was a gold star painted on the back of the sign.
Another breadcrumb, Elle thought.
She quickened her pace, encouraged. At least she knew she was heading in the right direction. This was good news. As she moved, she noticed a faint scent in the wind. It smelled like smoke from a fire. She took another sniff. Yes, it was definitely smoke.
Elle cautiously moved forward. The smoke was being carried toward her. That could only mean that it was coming from the city of Rosamond. She rounded the curve in the highway. The small town was little more than a collection of square buildings, a sore thumb against the sweeping flatness of the desert. The highway ran straight through the center.
In the middle of the road, piles of rusty vehicles were on fire. The flames leaped high into the air. Black, acrid smoke billowed into the sky. Shadowy figures moved around the outside of the burning vehicles. Elle’s heart dropped to her stomach as she retreated back around the curve of the highway. What are they? Elle thought. Slavers? Gang members? Omega?
She didn’t know. Definitely didn’t want to find out.
Elle dropped behind cover and pulled out her map. There had to be a way that she could bypass the city without being seen by whatever psychopaths were burning cars in the middle of the street.
She traced her finger along the highway. She could walk around the west side of the city. It would cost her an extra three miles, but it would be safer than risking running into murdering thugs. She had a katana and a gun, but she was only one girl. It was better to play it safe.
She folded the map.
She would take the detour.
“Honey, don’t forget your backpack,” Mom said.
It was early morning. The first day of school. Elle was a sophomore today. She grabbed her backpack, sitting on the dining room table. Their apartment was perfectly clean, perfectly organized. White walls and shelves, framed pictures of modern art and stacks of historical books on the coffee table.
“Will Samuel drive me to school every day again this year?” Elle asked, lacing her sneakers. She was fifteen, small for her age. Her hair was black, short. Her skin was pale. “Because it’s kind of embarrassing, mom. The other kids’ parents actually drop them off.”
She looked pointedly at her mother.
“You know I don’t do that,” Mom replied. “Quit complaining. You should be thankful to have a driver. Not everyone is so privileged.”
“Or spoiled,” Elle murmured. She swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got gymnastics after school today.”
“Don’t be late.”
“I won’t. I’ve got Samuel to drive me.”
Mom stepped out of the kitchen, dressed in a pristine, all-white business suit. Her jet-black hair was slicked into a tight bun.