They were on Route 166, the often windy and narrow highway that separated the San Joaquin Valley from the coast, when they dipped around a bend and had to come to a sudden halt because the road in front of them was blocked.
Martina’s first thought was that there had been an accident — by the looks of it, a big one, involving over half a dozen vehicles. But then she realized that while the nearest two cars appeared to have run into each other, the ones behind them seemed to have been placed there on purpose. They were in even rows, perpendicular to the road, stretching from one shoulder to the other.
“How are we supposed to get around that?” Riley asked.
Craig popped the stand on his bike and hopped off. “I got this. Just need to push a few of them out of the way.”
He walked around the accident to the car in the first row, and leaned inside to put it in neutral. The moment his head disappeared inside, the crack of a rifle rang out from the trees beyond the blockade.
Craig jerked out of the car and dropped to the ground.
The girls stared, momentarily stunned.
“Down!” Martina yelled as another shot went off. “Everyone! On the ground!”
She hit the pavement a second before the other two.
“Why are they shooting at us?” Noreen asked. “We didn’t do anything!”
“Craig?” Riley called out. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Craig called back. “Scared the crap out of me, that’s all. Are you guys all right?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “We’re okay.”
“Those were warning shots,” a male voice called from the trees. “Next one won’t miss. Now get on your bikes and go back the way you came. This road is closed!”
“We’re just trying to get to the coast,” Martina shouted back. “Not trying to cause any problems!”
“Plenty of other ways to get there. You’re not coming through here!”
“Okay, okay! No problem! Please don’t shoot at us again, all right?”
“If you turn those bikes around and get out of here, there won’t be any problems.”
“I’m going to get up,” Martina said.
Riley reached out and grabbed Martina’s wrist. “No. What if it’s a trick?”
“I think he could shoot us where we’re lying if he wanted to. And even if he can’t, what are we going to do? Just stay here?”
Riley reluctantly let go as Martina pushed herself to her feet.
When the rifle remained silent, Martina said, “Okay. Everyone up.”
Noreen was the first to join her, and then Riley stood.
“My friend’s going to come back from the car, okay?” Martina shouted.
“He shuts the door first,” the man responded.
“Craig,” Martina said, dropping her voice a few decibels. “Do as he says.”
“Hell, no. I’m not getting up,” Craig said. “He’s going to shoot me.”
“He’s not going to shoot you,” Martina said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Craig, just shut the door!”
“Uh-uh. No way.”
Martina closed her eyes for a second, frustrated. She guessed the roadblock was there to keep the man with the rifle and anyone else with him safe from people who might be infected. If she and the others did what he wanted and left, it would all be fine. Like the man said, there were plenty of other highways to the coast.
“Sir!” she shouted. “My friend’s a little worried if he moves you might shoot him.”
“He has to close the door, that’s all. Don’t want it left open for anyone else to get any ideas.”
Martina raised her hands and took a step forward.
“What are you doing?” Riley whispered.
“If you’ll allow me,” Martina shouted, “I’ll close the door. Then we’ll be on our way.”
The man said nothing for several seconds, then, “If you try anything funny, me or one of my friends will take you down.”
He’s alone, she thought.
“I won’t try anything,” she said. “Going to do exactly what I told you I would.”
She took another step forward, and then another.
“Martina,” Riley said. “Don’t!”
“You two get on your bikes and turn them around. I’ll be right back.”
She could hear Riley start to protest again, but Noreen cut her off.
“Come on,” Noreen said. “Let’s do what she said.”
Martina kept her pace consistent all the way to the car. When she reached the door, she looked down at Craig. “After I close it, get up, and we’ll walk back.”
“No. He’ll shoot us in the back,” he protested.
His fear was obviously keeping him from thinking clearly.
“If you don’t get up, we’re going to leave you here,” Martina said.
She shoved the door closed and turned back toward the motorcycles. She was five steps away before she finally heard Craig get to his feet and scramble after her.
When they were all on their bikes, she shouted, “We’re sorry we disturbed you! Didn’t realize this way was cut off!”
“You do now,” he replied.
“You know, you can come with us if you’d like,” she said.
“What the hell?” Craig whispered. “Are you crazy?”
“Thanks for the offer,” the man shouted, “but we’re good here. Best you get on your way now!”
“All right,” Martina said. “Good luck to you!”
As they headed back into the central valley, Martina wondered how many others were holed up like the man on 166. Must be hundreds or even thousands scattered all over the place. People just trying to survive. Would they chance a trip to a survival station to get inoculated? She figured some would, while others would probably be too scared to venture from the safe haven they’d created.
Well, there was one good thing that came out of the encounter. Her headache was gone.
19
Without the snowplows, the Resistance convoy would have never made it out of Sheridan. Twenty miles south, the going became easier, much of the road covered by only a few inches of snow. After they passed Douglas, there were miles of the interstate completely clear, so they were able to make it to checkpoint three — the Central Avenue/US 85 exit in Cheyenne — in just under six hours.
At a gas station near the base of the off-ramp, they fueled up the vehicles and settled in to wait for Hiller and Rick.
Chloe took the opportunity to locate some solitude behind the station. She was lucky there had been so much snow when she fell off the roof the night before. Her injuries could have been a whole lot worse. Still, having her wrist in a sling and her cracked ribs taped up meant she’d been relieved of her driving duties, something that pissed her off more than the injuries themselves.
Driving would have been good. It would have focused her mind on the road instead of keeping her constantly aware of the others inside the cab.
Aware of Ginny.
Chloe had tried to sleep, but she could still see the girl when she closed her eyes. Not as she currently was, sitting in back with Brandon and Josie, but on the roof where Chloe had first seen her. A pair of eyes peeking above a scarf, her name hanging in the air between them.
Why did this girl bother her so much? What was it about her?
Chloe was sure she’d never seen the girl before. Well, not in this part of her life. But what about in the other part? The memories from then had been lost to her for years. Which, of course, meant if Chloe had known Ginny before, the girl would have been a toddler at best, and would have looked different enough that seeing her now should not have triggered such a strong response.