“Maybe. Look, you’ve been getting us off track. You have to pay attention to the degrees. These little lines here.”
“I know what degrees are.”
“Apparently not. You’ve been pushing us a few degrees forward each time, making us go around in a wide circle.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but it’s likely.”
John shrugged. “Sorry, I guess,” he said. “I’m exhausted.”
“I think I should have the compass from now on.”
John shrugged, and nodded. He felt embarrassed. How could he have been so stupid? The line had been pointing one way… He was getting confused just thinking about it. Figuring out where you were with a compass was a lot harder than it had seemed.
What could John expect? He’d spent his whole adult life in the city, where the streets were laid out in a grid. Walnut Street ran west, and Chestnut ran east. The numbers of the cross streets got higher as you went west, and lower as you went east, towards the river. It was something everyone learned when they first moved to Philadelphia, and it always worked.
Out in the woods, it was different.
“OK,” said Cynthia. “I’m in charge this time. Let’s go.”
John shouldered his packs again, and groaned as he got them on.
“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to carry two packs.”
“I thought you were supposed to be tough. The big strong man. But look at you, you can’t even figure out a compass. You’ve been leading us in circles for days.”
John paused. He didn’t know how to react. He saw her face. There was real anger there, in her eyes and in the way she held her mouth.
“What’s gotten into you?” said John, speaking slowly. “I thought the energy bar had helped. You seemed like your mood was better.”
“I…”
“What is it?”
Cynthia’s expression changed. Her lip was quivering, and there were tears welling up in her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
She sat back down, with her pack on, and put her face in her hands. She was crying.
John didn’t know what to make of it.
They’d been getting along well before Dale’s death. They’d been close, and while Cynthia’s sarcasm occasionally had gotten old, he knew there’d been no malice behind it. Normally. Only affection. Maybe something more.
He squatted down, which was difficult with the pack, and put his arm around her.
Kiki came over and started sniffing around curiously, nuzzling her head against Cynthia.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s just… everything.”
John knew what she meant. They’d been through too much.
They spent above five minutes there, in that position, until John had to move. He told her everything was going to be OK, which they both knew was, if not a lie, at least only a half truth. There was no way to know if they’d make it. And, realistically, chances were that they wouldn’t, that they’d instead meet some horrible fate. Or simply die somewhere from starvation. As if that wasn’t bad enough.
Cynthia seemed like she was doing better. She was drying her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said Cynthia, looking up at him. “I know I was being rough on you.”
“It’s fine. I can take it.”
Cynthia gave a little chuckle. “I know.”
“Come on,” said John. “Let’s get moving.”
“All I did was waste time,” said Cynthia. “If people are after us, I only made it easier.”
“True, but come on. We’ll make up for it.”
They set off at a brisk pace, Cynthia leading the way. Kiki, again, walked in front of them, periodically checking to see which way they were headed.
Up ahead, John spotted a small structure. Some type of odd little building. It was painted forest green and made of wood. It would have blended in with the trees, had the leaves not already changed color, many of them fallen off.
Cynthia saw it too. She stopped. “What’s that?”
“Maybe some kind of park building? It is a state park after all.”
Kiki wasn’t far away. Suddenly, she barked, opening her mouth wide.
“Kiki,” hissed Cynthia. “Quiet.”
Kiki barked again, and again.
Maybe she was trying to warn them? John turned his head to look around them. But it was already too late.
John heard it before he saw it.
The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked.
A man stood there, tall and very thin.
He wore a brown park ranger’s uniform, but it was tattered to the point of almost looking like rags.
John didn’t dare reach for his gun. He hoped Cynthia wouldn’t either.
“Hands above your heads,” said the man. His voice cracked as he spoke, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time.
John glanced at Cynthia. She was already raising her hands. There was despair in her eyes. John knew the look well.
They’d gotten through so much, only to come up yet again against another obstacle, another danger. Who knew if this was their last.
14
Mandy had been returning from getting water when she’d come across the woman. She’d thought first of the woman back at the farmhouse that she’d killed with her knife. They looked, at least to Mandy, remarkably similar. Not in their overall appearance, but more in the way they carried themselves. They’d both had that look of desperation about them.
Mandy had seen the woman before she’d been seen herself. She’d drawn her gun and pointed it at the woman, telling her to freeze. The woman had just kept moving, glancing furtively back at Mandy, walking away from her.
So Mandy had fired her gun in the air. Maybe it hadn’t been the best move. It had been the loss of a bullet, for one thing.
And it also meant possibly attracting unwanted attention from anyone else who might be in the area.
But Mandy had done it, acting partly on instinct.
She couldn’t let the woman just walk away.
Mandy needed to know who she was, where she’d come from. And any other information she had. More importantly, Mandy needed to know if she’d be a threat.
But the woman had seemed to be in a daze, unable or unwilling to respond to Mandy’s threat of violence.
Maybe Mandy should have just shot her.
But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d shot the warning shot.
It had worked.
The woman had spun around, a look of intense fear on her face. The sound of the gun had startled her out of whatever kind of daze she’d been in.
“Who are you?” said Mandy.
The woman hadn’t answered at first. Instead, she’d put her arms in the air, even though Mandy hadn’t asked her to do so.
Mandy took a good look at the woman. She was wearing a winter jacket, even though it wasn’t yet quite cold enough for a jacket like that. She had a small backpack with her, the kind that kids took to school before the EMP. It looked only about half full.
The woman had nothing else with her. No weapon that Mandy could see, although of course that didn’t mean anything. She could easily have had a gun or a knife with her, concealed under the jacket. Or a thousand other different things that could be used as a weapon, whether that was their intention or not.
“Mandy! Are you OK?”
It was James. Mandy turned to look. Sadie was right behind him. They were running through the woods, nearly tripping on fallen branches and roots.
James had his gun out.
“What happened?”
“I found someone,” said Mandy. “I’m not hurt.”
“We were worried. We heard a shot.”
Mandy explained why she’d discharged her gun. James nodded, but Sadie protested, saying that she should have just killed her.