It was a car all right, but it wasn’t even on the road. It was on someone’s front lawn, up on cinder blocks.
“That’s not going anywhere,” said Max.
“Do you see that?” said Mandy.
“What?”
“That sign down there in that front yard. Another block down.”
“A sign? We can’t drive a sign,” said Chad, giggling at the thought of trying to pack three or four people onto a sign and then take it down the highway as if it was a van.
“What the hell are you talking about, Chad?”
Chad didn’t say anything. He was lost in his own little world, and he liked it.
“What do you see, Mandy?” said Max.
“It’s like an advertisement for some car race or something,” said Mandy.
Mandy had sharp eyes, and so did Georgia. Max probably couldn’t see as well as before due to the swelling in his face, especially around his eyes.
“It’s talking about a car convention or something,” said Georgia.
“Yeah,” said Mandy. “That’s why I pointed it out. It looks like whoever lives there is into those… what do you call them? Souped up cars?”
“Modded cars,” said James.
“Yeah, those street racer types…”
“You think he might have a car there in that garage?”
“It’s worth a shot,” said Max. “If I had some kind of fast specialty car, I’d probably want to keep it safe if I had to flee my house for whatever reason.”
“You don’t think they’d take it with them?”
“Those types are crazy about their cars,” said Mandy.
Georgia stopped the Ford Bronco in front of the house with the sign.
Chad look at the sign. It was neon green with a picture of a couple of modded Hondas on it. The sign seemed to swim in his vision, and he couldn’t read the words very well.
The house was squat and somewhat broken down. If the occupant really had been a car enthusiast, and the sign wasn’t some kind of mistake, then they’d put all their money into their cars, and none into fixing up the house.
“How do we know no one’s inside?” said Mandy.
“We don’t,” said Max. “Come on. Georgia, Chad and I will go inside. The rest, stay in the car.”
“You’re not in any condition to go in,” said Mandy.
“I’m fine,” said Max, his words muffled from the swelling. His voice sounded strange too because of his broken nose.
Max and Georgia opened the heavy doors of the Bronco and got out.
“Chad,” said Mandy. “Aren’t you going with them?”
Georgia and Max were already approaching the house, their guns in their hands.
“Huh?” said Chad.
“What’s wrong with you?” said Mandy. “You seem out of it. Come on, they need you.”
She gave him a shove and it sparked him to open the door and get out.
Chad felt light as he walked towards the house, following Georgia and Chad.
Max turned back to Chad. “You’re going to cover us from outside, OK?”
Chad nodded.
“Keep your gun up, damnit, Chad,” said Max.
Chad suddenly remembered he was holding the shotgun that Georgia and Max had taken from the Ford Bronco’s owners. They’d told him it’d be easier to shoot, and better for close range.
“Got it,” said Chad. But he wasn’t so sure.
He watched as Georgia and Max disappeared around the back of the house.
Chad found it hard to concentrate on keeping watch. The sun had come out from behind the cloud cover and with the temperature starting to cool off as fall approached, the day couldn’t have been more beautiful.
There wasn’t a person around to ruin the day by making some racket. There weren’t any traffic jams or honking horns. There wasn’t anything to worry about at all.
Chad caught himself. Nothing to worry about?
He had a lot to worry about.
He heard a sound around the back of the house. It sounded like a window breaking, like glass shattering.
He hoped Georgia and Max would be OK. He didn’t exactly remember what they were doing, though. Something about breaking into the house to get something…
“Chad!” hissed Mandy, opening the Bronco door a crack. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be keeping watch.”
“Oh,” said Chad vaguely.
He’d sat down for some reason, on the warm, sunny green grass. He stood up and looked around.
Another sound came from around the back of the house. More glass shattering.
2
“How long do you think it’s been since the EMP?” said John.
“I don’t know,” said Cynthia. “I lost track so long ago. Sometime during the trip here.”
“It was long,” said John. “A few weeks, maybe?”
Cynthia shrugged. “No idea, really. It probably doesn’t matter much.”
“I guess not,” said John. “It’s not like we have to make sure we keep our dentist appointments or anything like that. But, still…”
He paused, looking for the words that didn’t seem to come to him.
“What is it?” said Cynthia, prompting him to say more.
“It’s just that… I guess I was still holding out a little bit of hope that the longer we got from the EMP, the greater the chance that someone would step in… You know? Like it was hard to believe that the whole country was affected, or the whole world. But if it wasn’t, if things were running normally in other parts, then surely they’d step in and lend a helping hand.”
“You mean like the military or the Red Cross would have dispatched or something?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, we don’t have any way to know what’s going on anywhere else, without any communication. But I think the fact that no one else has come must mean that it’s like this everywhere.”
“I know I shouldn’t have been holding onto even the smallest piece of hope,” said John. “But I guess a part of me wanted it to be true.”
“The thing we don’t know,” said Cynthia. “Is how other areas reacted to the EMP. It’s possible that some places didn’t become violently chaotic. Maybe they worked together to help each other.”
“I doubt it,” said John. “People are the same everywhere. And there’s always that shadow of violence lurking beneath the surface. Modern society hasn’t tamed us humans. It’s just hidden what we really are.”
“Do you think this one’s any good?” said Cynthia, holding up a can of beef. It had a large bulge on the bottom.
They were in the basement of the farmhouse, going through the canned food that had been stored down there. Unfortunately, almost none of it was still good.
John shook his head. “Nope,” he said.
“Save it for later, though?”
“Yeah,” said John. “I mean, if things get really bad, I wouldn’t mind eating that.”
“It’ll make you sick.”
“Better than starving to death, I guess,” said John.
But he wasn’t so sure.
He’d had his fair share of sickness so far since the EMP, eating things that probably weren’t good. But his stomach seemed to have gotten used to the bacteria somewhat.
The basement was dark, even during the day. They were using just one candle to illuminate the area, not wanting to waste their precious supplies.
They’d spent the last few days clearing out the dead bodies. There’d been at least a dozen of them, all shot dead. At first, they hadn’t been able to figure out how they had all died from gunshot wounds. They’d thought maybe one of them had bled out from his wounds, after having killed the others. Then they’d realized that it was possible that there was a survivor, and that he or she had fled into the woods. And of course, that meant that this someone might return at some point, possibly to collect the gear left behind.