by Riley Flynn
“Why? They’ve seen us now. It’s offline, anyway.”
“Well then, do something.”
“I’m taking the shot.”
The gunshot hit the eyes hard. The rifle, the Savage, was loud. Finn lay as flat as he could and Joan covered his ears.
Alex could hear a ringing noise. Different than the creaking and rattle of the car breaking apart, at least.
“Did you hit them?” Timmy leaned back so far he almost landed in the back seat. “Cam, did you hit them?”
“Nothing but air, my friend.”
“I can’t see them. Are you sure it’s them?”
“Can see right down this scope. You’ll see them soon enough. They’re gaining.”
Alex listened to the conversation. He was sure he could hear a fluctuation in Cam’s voice, a flutter around the register. They’re gaining, he’d said. Getting closer and closer. The dark spot in the rear-view mirror grew in size by the second.
“Hey, Alex. Any chance of keeping her steady? I can’t aim too good with this shaking.”
No chance.
“It’s the car, not me.” Alex tried to make himself heard without turning around. “The only way is to slow down. You want me to slow down?”
“Point taken.” Cam turned back to the rifle. “Cover your ears, folks.”
The rifle crack echoed around the interior again.
“Another miss. Goddammit.”
“I can see them. I can see them now.” Timmy knelt on the passenger’s side seat, turned to face the rear of the car. “Shoot them, Cam.”
“I’m trying. I’m trying.”
“They must be doing a hundred, easy. Man, they’re gaining on us by the second!”
Alex could see the Cadillac now. They’d managed to repair the one from Charleston. The one he’d shot to pieces. Black. Looming. Bullet holes and metallic scars.
Moving toward them and catching up every single second.
Another shot. Nothing happened. The Cadillac kept its course.
“Cam! Cam, what’s going on?”
Joan was moving in the seat. Alex couldn’t see her, couldn’t see what she was doing. She leaned around the interior, the child inside her holding her back from reaching over completely to Cam. The Cadillac was a half mile back and gaining.
“What’s happening?” Alex shouted, slapping Timmy on the arm. “What’s she doing?”
“Something’s happened to Cam. He’s froze. I don’t know.”
“He can’t hit them over this distance.” Alex shouted over his shoulder. “He has to wait. Let them get closer.”
“She’s trying to tell him, man.”
The voice had faltered. Alex knew he’d heard it. The car was too close. Whatever the hell was haunting Cam, it was too close to handle. He tried to watch Joan struggle but his eye was draw to the dark shape in the mirror. Looming. Gaining.
Joan sat back in her seat. Alex turned to see her properly. Her hair stuck to her forehead, her glasses sat on the end of her nose. She held the Savage in her hands.
“Joanie, what the hell?” Timmy was shouting to her, beckoning to hand him the rifle. “Is Cam hit? What happened?”
“I’m going to take the shot.”
“No, no.” Timmy reached for the gun. “Let me do it.”
She pulled the Savage out of his reach. Alex looked at her in the mirror, caught her eye. Steely faced. Determined. She was going to do it.
“I need help, Alex.” Her eyes were flat and level. She adjusted her glasses. He nodded.
“Aim for the tires, Joan.”
She had already turned around and lodged one knee into the back of the seat. The barrel of the riffle balanced on the headrest. Joan stretched her neck.
“I’m ready,” she shouted to Alex. “Do it.”
“On my count, Joan.”
He needed to find a flat stretch of road.
“Three.”
Alex moved into the center of the two lanes.
“Two.”
The Cadillac accelerated. Maybe a few hundred yards back now.
“One.”
Alex was ready. He cut the engine, shifted the car into neutral, and let her run. They coasted.
“Now!”
Joan took the shot. A million-dollar shot.
A high-powered rifle over a hundred yards, hitting an approaching target. Even the most heavily reinforced wheel would suffer. The tire exploded, a flurry of rubber exploding out the side of the car. Alex braked, found a gear, flipped the ignition.
The Cadillac spun, veering off the side of the road.
Alex accelerated. The creaks and groans returned. The car began eating up the road. Faster, faster. Thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. The entire machine was rattling.
There was a bend in the road ahead. Almost at the forest. Almost at the park.
The Cadillac faded from view. That had to slow them down, Alex thought, even if they had a spare. Just give us enough time to get lost in the forest.
Timmy cheered. He tried to reach around his own seat, hands stretching toward Joan.
“Yes! Dead shot Joanie. Straight shooter. Yes!”
She sat still, staring down at the gun. The wind rushed through the open windows in the car, catching her hair. There was an exit ahead, Alex noticed. He slowed, beginning to take the turn. Leading them into the forest.
Once they were on the new road, he sped up again.
Timmy bounced around still, whooping and cheering. Joan had laid the rifle flat across her lap. The putrid smell of spent ammo lingered.
Alex couldn’t see Cam. No one had time to check on him. Too much energy. Too much adrenaline. He figured he knew what had happened. That white face, the terror. The same as he’d seen back in the woods. The pressure had gotten to be too much. The ghosts of the past passing through Cam’s mind. Haunting him again. Leaving the man a shell of himself.
But they were away.
Alex took another turn. And another.
Whenever the road split, he smiled. This was the George Washington and Jefferson National Park. He knew it well. They’d just called it the Park when he was a kid. There were hills and trees and mountains. Steep mud banks and blind corners.
The roads split and bent, spreading out like a spider’s web across the forest. Every time he took a turn, the agents behind would have to make a decision. They couldn’t get them all right. Every turn added an extra degree of safety. Twenty minutes of choosing turns had them concealed deep inside the Park.
The farm was practically on the other side of the forest. Once they were out on the other side, leaving the agents behind, they were free.
Almost home.
That wave of nostalgia began to break against the sands of Alex’s mind. Sammy. Mom. Dad. Eames. The whole pack of them. Making their presence felt. Even driving down these familiar roads, he could hear them calling to him. But they weren’t there yet. There wasn’t time to indulge the past.
A thud and a knock from under the hood. A splutter and a hiss. The engine stopped. The car rolled along the road. The only sounds were the vestigial cheers from Timmy and the calling birds in the forest beyond.
Steam and smoke poured out from the car together and Alex held the wheel steady. He tried the ignition. Nothing. The car rolled on, no engine to drag it forward. Just an eerie silence.
There were no words he could find, nothing which pierced the veil of terror settling over everyone in the car.
They were all alone.
Chapter 33
They coasted. The front wheels hit the top of the dirt track and trundled forward. A slight slope, and the car left the asphalt behind and picked up speed. Not enough to guide them up the first incline and, fifty feet from the road, they came to a halt in the middle of a forest.
“So.” Timmy clapped. “We’re screwed, then.”
With the car halted, Finn bounded out of the open rear window and investigated the forest.
“Timmy. Don’t say it.”
“Why the hell no
t, Joan? We all heard the engine explode. We all saw them behind us. We’re screwed.”
His voice was moving up through the pipes, louder and louder. Alex held on to the wheel. They had been so close. So close to the farm. So close to getting away. Now this.
“We’re absolutely screwed, man. Done. Finished. We’re not getting out of these woods alive.”
“Shut up, Timmy. I asked you already.”
“And why the hell should I, Joan? What’s the worst that can happen? We attract those men toward us and they shoot us quick? Or we wander through the woods and die of the cold? Quick or slow, Joanie, how do you want it?”
Alex opened the door of the car. He walked around the side, leaving Timmy to argue with himself. He banged a fist against the metal roof.
As he reached the back of the car, Alex saw Cam. The soldier was sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest. Pale faced. Oblivious. A problem for later.
They had supplies in the bags. They had a map. Alex began to search through the heavy black bags where they’d stored everything since leaving Detroit. Meals. Flashlights. Clothing. The essentials.
“Alex, what the hell, man? Stop messing around. We’re screwed.”
“We’re not screwed, Timmy.” Alex tried as hard as he could to keep his voice flat and level and confident.
“Oh yes we are. I’m some scrawny wretch, can’t lift a thing. Joan’s carrying a child due to pop God knows when. And Cam… Well, I don’t know what the hell happened to you, man, but that ain’t right.”
Timmy was out of the car and shouting.
“See, Alex. You might make it. Healthy and happy. You know where you’re going. You’ve got the guns. The rest of us? Dead already. No wonder you’re always taking the chances, no wonder you’re always willing to-”
“This isn’t my fault, Timmy.” Alex’s voice was rising. He was getting angry. He had to keep calm. “I didn’t ask to be in charge.”
“Yeah, man. You kind of did. You had to. This ain’t your fault, though, we let you. Now we’re screwed. Now, w-w-we’re never going to make it out of here alive.”
With every word, Timmy’s voice was speeding up, his flailing arms reaching new heights. Alex removed his hands from the bags and stepped up to his friend, feeling the fevered breath on his face. There were more important things than arguing right now. They had to put emotion to the side. They had to survive.
“We’re going to be fine, Timmy. Listen.”
“Oh, I’m listening, man. I hear it all. I see it all. The writing on the wall? We’re dead, man. Dead-”
Alex slapped Timmy across the face. Not hard. Not enough to hurt. But enough to get his attention. Enough to wake him up from the fever dream, to shake away the cloud of worry which had whipped him up into a tornado.
“Listen to me, Timmy. I know I got us into this. I’m going to get us out. We’re going to get us out. We’re going to be fine. We have a plan. And you’re going to help me. You hear?”
“I-I-I-” Timmy rubbed his face, staring at Alex.
“That’s right. Aye-Aye. You’re on board. Now listen to me. We’re going to get what we need. We’re going to hide the car. And then we’re going to walk. We’re going to walk, Timmy, and we’re not going to stop. Got it?”
Silence.
“Damn right, you’ve got it. We’re going to walk through the Park and we’re going to come out on the other side and get to the farm and you’re going to set up a hammock between the two trees in the back yard and swing there all summer, you hear? Not a care in the world. Food out of the ground. Fresh air. The sweet, sweet, boring life. But first we have to get through these woods. Do you hear me, Timmy?”
A nod.
“Good. Now get moving.”
Joan was already out of the car. Timmy, still clutching his cheek, allowed her to lead him to the side to search for the dog. Alex sat down next to Cam.
“Anything you need to tell me?”
Cam looked up with wide, distant eyes. Dark vinyl discs stuck in an unending loop.
“I choked.”
“We got away.”
“Maybe we did.”
“That’s all that matters.”
“I choked. They all saw it. I could have got us all killed.”
“You didn’t, though. Now we need you. We need you to help get through these woods.”
“You don’t need me.”
“I’m damn sure not doing this alone, Cam. Get up and help now, soldier. You have a duty.”
Those big, baleful eyes looked up again. Blinked once, twice, and then Cam’s face changed. He puffed out his cheeks and dragged himself out of the car. Time to get moving.
Alex gave everyone chores. Even now, he was astonished that anyone listened to him, shocked that they looked to him for the way forward, even after Timmy’s outburst. Collect together the food, the guns, the water. Put it into backpacks. Into slings. Whatever they could carry. Food, guns, and even the length of string they used to tie together the bags and the backpacks. With careful hands, he made sure that two of the bags – his and Cam’s – were heavier than the other two. No way Joan or Timmy were in any state to travel like this. But there was no other option.
Timmy was given the map. He was shown the point on the other side of the Park which would bring them closest to Roanoke and then on to the farm. Get them there, that was his only job.
Joan had the food. Cam was handed the best of the guns and the majority of the ammo. Alex worried that he’d done nothing to chase away the man’s ghosts. But he wasn’t a psychologist, he told himself. Or an exorcist. He shouldn’t be expected to chase after other people’s ghosts, not when he could barely control his own. Cam was moving. That was all that mattered.
Just before they left, bags full and far too heavy, they had to hide the car. Inside was everything they couldn’t bring. Extra bullets. Old meals. Anything that wasn’t essential. Timmy had insisted on the laptop, the charger, and a few other gadgets. One day, he’d reasoned, they might be needed. Alex agreed.
Alex didn’t mention his memories. He’d been holding the old ring in his pocket for weeks now. The very thought of it had been chased out of his mind.
Sammy. An old girlfriend. More than that. A ghost, now, a specter from another life. Another time. From before the virus and before Detroit. He’d clung on to the ring like she was dead, rather than just a distant memory. He’d desperately tried not to think about her for almost a decade, furious with himself every time her name had escaped into his thoughts.
Two syllables which were forbidden when thinking about escape. A distraction. He had to push it all aside again. They’d been hiking through this very forest, once upon a time. The small metal circle which pressed against his thigh was reminder enough. No one else needed to know. They all had their burdens to bear. Dead weight and memories. The bags were heavy enough, no need to share the load.
The aim was to act fast. As Alex kept reassuring everyone, Root and Byrne did not know where they were. The park was a tangle, a mess of roads and trails. Even if they’d changed the tire in ten minutes, that was a hell of a head start.
Following the roads was one thing, trying to follow them through a forest was another.
No drones, no satellites, no Cadillacs, no government help. None of it would pierce the thick knot of the forest.
This was them and them alone.
Time to move out.
Chapter 34
One tired foot after another, they walked for hours. They had moved from asphalt roads to dirt tracks to hiking trails to forgotten pathways overgrown with roots and weeds and fallen leaves. People had spent time in the Park before. But now nature was returning. Even as winter approached, the trees and plants were reclaiming the world.
But it didn’t rain. Up and down, over and under hills and slopes, they trekked hard. If it had rained, the going would have been twice as tough. Alex felt the stones on the ground through the soles of his sneakers. No one had been ready to walk. At least the weathe
r was accommodating.
But tired shoulders and heavy legs could not be ignored. No one said it aloud, but the constant walking through thickening woods was taking a toll. On Joan, who was hiking for two. On Timmy, who was still within touching distance of death’s door, if no longer knocking on it. And on Cam, whose exuberance and comradery had plunged over a cliff edge.
At times, Alex felt as though he were dragging the other three forward by himself. Only Finn remained happy, exploring the entire Park and running back and forth around the walkers.
“You know—” Alex walked at the rear of the group, watching for signs of struggle. “This isn’t the first time I’ve walked along this route, I think.”
The sound of footsteps, toes dragging along the top of the cold ground.
“My parents used to bring me up here. We lived down there, the other side.” Alex gestured with his hands. No one had turned around to see where he was pointing. He wasn’t sure they were even listening. But he was going to continue, to try and raise their spirits, even if he failed miserably.
“Yeah, we lived around here. I remember one time, we were walking along a trail like this. Farther north, I think. Up near Tinker Cliffs. My dad’s idea. He wanted to get us out in the wilderness, all three of us. Bonding. We lived on a farm, not sure what he was thinking.”
“How old were you?” Alex was certain Joan was simply being polite. He answered anyway.
“Ten, Joan. I think I was ten. Maybe a year or two older. Anyway, so we’re heading up and down these hills. Pretty high up. The views from up there are incredible, you can see for miles. But we’re walking along and I’m happy inside my own head. Just thinking ten-year-old thoughts. Cartoons. That kind of thing. Mom’s out front, I’m in the middle, and then Dad’s behind. We’re walking in the morning and it’s tough going. Cold. Bit like this.”
“Your parents took you up a mountain on a cold winter morning?” Cam turned slightly to ask his question.
“You bet they did. Beat working on the farm, I guess. So I’m walking along. Wasn’t really into nature, you know. Didn’t know much about that kind of stuff.”