She could see in his eyes that there wasn’t any way to convince him otherwise.
Through the rear windshield, which had at least one bullet hole, Mandy saw Max reappearing.
“How’s she doing?”
“The same, I think.”
“Let’s hope those antibiotics work.”
They spoke in hushed tones, so that James couldn’t hear them from inside the Bronco.
“I found a place we can push it.”
“It’s going to be hard, pushing it over that terrain. You think we can do it?”
“We have to.”
“We better do it now, before we lose any more energy.”
“We need to clear some saplings first. Some are too big for the car.”
“But we don’t have an ax.”
“I think we can take them with the knives. Come on, I need your help. You have your Mora?”
“Always do.” Mandy patted the plastic-sheathed knife on her belt. It had been a literal life-saver at least once. And probably would be again.
Mandy ducked her head back into the Bronco to tell James and Sadie what was going on. “Keep on the lookout,” said Mandy. “I know you want to keep your eyes on your mom, but you also need to be ready for someone coming. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen, though.”
James gave a stiff nod. Sadie was still mostly unresponsive in the front seat, overcome with stress and worry.
Mandy set off to follow Max, who was already walking back to where he’d found the place to forge a trail. It was about 200 feet from the Bronco.
When Mandy caught up with him, he was already at work, using his pocket knife to splice into the saplings. Mandy watched how he moved the knife up and down, rocking it, and then bent the sapling until it snapped.
Mandy tried to do the same with her own knife, but it was hard at first.
“There’s a trick to it,” said Max, observing her. “Only make one cut. You just want to rock it. Don’t try to saw it.”
“OK, I think I got it.”
Max nodded, as she snapped her first sapling.
“Max,” said Mandy. “We haven’t talked about Chad.”
Max was silent for a moment. “What’s there to talk about?”
“I don’t know… He was your friend, from way back.”
Max nodded.
“And, I don’t know. If you wanted to talk to me about it, that’d be fine. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, but words aren’t going to bring him back. He’s dead, and that’s it.”
Mandy didn’t say anything. Max was already back at work.
Max had found the perfect spot. Along most of the road, there were thick trees that they couldn’t cut down, but right here, where they stood, there was just enough space for the Bronco to fit. Why there were saplings, Mandy didn’t know. She didn’t have time to think about it, since it was hard work. There wasn’t much in the way of bushes, but there were plenty of rocks, which, along with the uneven ground, made the work harder than it would have been. And it would make pushing the Bronco even harder.
It took them a good twenty minutes to get the path clear enough that the Bronco would be able to travel over the ground.
“Come on,” said Max. “We might as well get this over with. It’s going to be a hell of a job pushing it down here.”
“You think it’s far enough?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be mostly out of view. We can set up camp there.”
“And then what? We’re not going to be able to travel without gas.” It was obvious, but Mandy felt she needed to say it anyway. She wanted to get Max’s take on what would happen.
“We can’t all hike out. Not with Georgia like this.”
That was obvious, too.
“So we’re going to just stay here?”
“For a while. Until Georgia’s better. If she makes it, that is. Come on, time to push the Bronco.”
Mandy’s muscles were already weak and tired. She didn’t feel like she had the strength to walk back to the Bronco, let alone push it, with Georgia and the gear inside it, across uneven terrain.
31
John woke up early in the morning. Sunlight came through the small windows of Dale’s cabin.
He was a little stiff, but not too bad. He felt stronger than he had yesterday. A lot stronger. He was regaining his strength.
It had been a long time since John had felt so rested. He’d spent the night in the chair, something that months ago he would have thought sounded far too uncomfortable. But it was better than the uneven ground out in the woods. It was better than sleeping on rocks, or not sleeping at all.
He’d only woken up twice that night. Normally, when he and Cynthia had slept outside, he’d never go a full night without waking up a dozen times, his heart pounding, fearing that some attack was looming immediately, close and deadly.
But it had only been Kiki, barking loudly and deeply, that had woken him up. Each time, she’d settled down soon enough, lying back down on the wooden floorboards of the cabin.
They hadn’t kept a watch, which had felt strange and dangerous to John and Cynthia. But Dale had assured them there was nothing to worry about, that Kiki was a better watchman than any human under the sun. They’d been so tired, and John so weak, that they didn’t have it in them to protest.
John looked around. Dale and Kiki were gone, probably on a walk around the property.
Cynthia snored lightly nearby, curled up in her wooden chair. She looked cute like that, almost beautiful. Her hair had come undone from her braid, and it hung messily around her, the sunlight hitting it just right.
John got up silently, so as not to wake Cynthia. He had to urinate, and, looking around, there didn’t seem to be any kind of bathroom facilities. Not that he would have expected any in a cabin like this. But he hadn’t seen an outhouse either.
That was fine with John. He’d do what he’d done since the EMP, and go in the great outdoors.
John patted his gun on his hip before opening the door as quietly as he could. He took one last look at Cynthia to make sure he hadn’t woken her up before stepping outside.
The air had a chilly bite to it. The sun was still low in the sky and hadn’t yet started to warm everything up.
John cast his eyes around. Everything looked peaceful and calm. The trees swayed slightly in an early morning breeze.
John found his way along a narrow path that wound its way through the trees. He stepped off the path, so as not to leave urine on the path itself, unzipped his pants, and breathed a sigh of relief.
He’d had a lot of tea last night, and the stream continued and continued, seemingly relentlessly.
There was a sound off to his right. A twig cracking, or something similar.
John turned his head sharply, but he saw nothing.
Must have just been an animal. A squirrel or rabbit.
Nothing but quiet, now.
John must have imagined it. He was still jumpy, though, and on guard, considering that he knew for a fact there were two criminals out there with firearms. Sure, they may have headed off in some other direction. That was what he was hoping for.
John finally finished, and his early morning cold fingers found the zipper with some difficulty.
As he was zipping up, a tremendous bang rang out in the forest.
It was a gunshot. It came from over where he’d heard the twig snapping.
The bullet smashed into a tree a mere foot from his head. Wood splinters exploded outward from the tree. John felt some of them hit his shirt.
John threw himself to the ground. Quickly and instinctively. His hand reached for his gun.
It felt good in his hand. Cold and firm.
On his belly, he thrust the gun in front of him, holding it with both hands. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find the attacker.
A flash of movement up ahead. An orange jumpsuit. Unmistakable. So it was the criminals. Or one of them, at least.