Light of Dawn

by Vannetta Chapman

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  I’m in the early stages of a migraine.” Max didn’t bother looking around. He knew how this news would be met. He understood that his illness was endangering the entire group. The timing was terrible, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Patrick, Bianca, and Shelby knew about his condition, but Gabe didn’t, so Max directed his comments to the doctor.

  “I wasn’t aware that you had them.” Gabe began rummaging through his medical bag, which he kept in his backpack. “Do you know what kind?”

  “Basilar.”

  Gabe looked up, nodded once, and slowly closed the bag. Max knew that he would be all too aware there was nothing they could do.

  “You have received a professional diagnosis for basilar migraines?”

  “When I was much younger. They have become less frequent over the years. Unfortunately, they tend to hit at the most inopportune times.”

  He glanced at Shelby and waited for her to tell what had happened a week and a half after the flare.

  “He had a bad one when we were leaving Abney headed for the ranch, Carter and Max and me. It was…it was one of the worst I’ve ever seen. I should have recognized the symptoms—”

  “I should have told you. I thought could I…I could…make it, but I put you and Carter at risk. I won’t do that again.” Even talking was painful. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on this all-important discussion, but the voices of his friends sounded like they were being blasted through a loudspeaker. He longed to clamp his hands over his ears and shut out the noise.

  “You held it together somehow, Max. I still don’t understand how you did it, but you managed to keep driving until we were a safe distance from the goons trying to attack us.”

  Shelby continued to stare at him, and Max saw such compassion there—not blame, but tenderness—that he wanted to put his head down and weep. What had he done to earn the affection of this woman?

  “He basically passed out once we made it to the roadblock that had been set up on the south side of the ranching area where High Fields is located.” Now she grinned ruefully at him. “I thought those boys were going to shoot us for sure, but then one of them recognized Max, and after that the cavalry arrived.”

  “I’m yelling too now…” He shook his head and attempted to correct the words coming out of his mouth, “I’m telling noo two.”

  Patrick tried to hide a snicker, and then they were all laughing. Not that it was a laughing matter, but sometimes stress and strain found a way out regardless of how you tried to hold them in.

  When the laughter had subsided, and Shelby had wiped away the tears slipping down her cheeks, Max said. “Leave me.”

  He knew that the odds were they wouldn’t, but he had to try. He had to make them see that getting back to High Fields and Abney was the priority.

  “I’ll…catch up.” He shook his head again, but the small movement sent a blinding shaft of light from the sunset through his right eye. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d be curled into a ball, and it could be hours or even days before he came around again.

  Not that anyone was listening to him.

  “We’ll build him a shelter, there in the trees,” Gabe said.

  “I’ll find the tarps.” Patrick was on his feet, heading toward the Hummer without waiting for Max’s response.

  He couldn’t very well argue when he had trouble speaking coherently. The migraine was progressing more quickly than he’d anticipated. Actually, he’d suspected it in the middle of the night when he woke with a throbbing at the base of his skull. He’d prayed he was wrong.

  Max looked over at the Hummer, saw two, closed his eyes, and willed his vision to clear. When he opened them again, there was only one vehicle. His tongue felt thick, and the words continued to jumble together when he tried to speak. He allowed his head to fall into his hands. The inkiness of the night would help if he could survive the pain another hour. He dreaded sunrise and the motion of the vehicle. He recoiled at the thought.

  “Shelby and Bianca, get his bedroll and pack, also some water to keep next to him.” Gabe stood and helped Max to his feet. “We want to put it all as far back in these trees as possible. Tomorrow’s sun will be brutal.”

  And so Max succumbed to the ministrations of his friends.

  His bedroll was tucked in the shelter of the trees.

  Shelby helped him to his feet. He made the mistake of looking up, and the early stars and moon began to spin.

  “Whoa, cowboy. Easy there.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and shuffled him over to where he was supposed to sleep.

  A groan escaped his lips as he crawled into the sleeping bag. He quickly backed out, lurched away from his bedroll, and vomited in the bushes.

  Gabe checked his pulse. “As I’m sure you know, traditional migraine medications are ineffective and dangerous for you to take. However, I do have morphine if the pain becomes too much.”

  “Tho nanks.”

  “All right. If you change your mind, let me know.”

  Bianca set his pack next to the bedroll along with a bottle of water and his flashlight. Patrick checked his weapon, left it and extra ammo within reach. Shelby formed a pillow out of some clothes, tucked it under his head, and kissed him softly on the forehead.

  He’d known deep down that they wouldn’t leave him. But after what had happened on that fateful trip to High Fields, he’d felt duty bound to at least warn them. They were a team in every sense of the word, strong because they could and did depend on one another. For the foreseeable future, Max would be helpless, but he at least knew, as unconsciousness claimed him, that he was in good hands.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Shelby understood how hard it had been for Max to admit he could no longer travel. Actually, he might have been able to. Gabe could have sedated him, and they could have tucked him in the back of the Hummer. But that seemed unwise at best and foolish at worst.

  The truth was that they needed Max. They needed each person in their group if they were going to make it back to Abney. The devastation of Dallas and the dangers of Glen Rose loomed in her mind—both giant question marks. Her thoughts shied away from imagining what Dallas would look like. Would they be able to see evidence of the fallout? Would there be bodies? Would a black soot cover everything?

  And Glen Rose. She’d always loved that portion of the drive from Abney to Dallas, but now it represented another hurdle in their path. There was no doubt that the twisting road running alongside Chalk Mountain would be dangerous. It was too tempting a spot for some group not to have claimed it. They could attempt to go around, which might not be any better. Often predators depended on that, splitting their resources between a vulnerable spot and the backup roads.

  Their best hope was to find the Remnant.

  But first they had to wait for Max to recover.

  “He’s going to be all right,” Bianca said.

  “I know he will.”

  They were finishing off the coffee, sitting in front of the small fire that was blocked from the wind and hidden from anyone that might pass by. The flames crackled and popped, and the smell of smoke would reach far and wide. But that didn’t in and of itself invite trouble. Campfires were the norm now. They were everywhere. She could look out across the night and make out one, then another, and a third.

  Other people trying to find their way.

  “Might take a day or two.”

  “Probably two.” Shelby stared into the fire. “Do you remember what you said to me? That day in Abney when I was trying to decide whether to go to High Fields?”

  “I imagine it was something direct. Subtleness isn’t my gift.”

  “You called me your hermana.”

  “And you are. We’re sisters in the truest sense of the word.”

  “You reminded me that everything can change—in an instant.”

  “We could all use that reminder.”

  “You told me to forgive Max.” Shelby swiped at the tears cour
sing down her cheeks. “And you said—”

  “I said you might not get another chance.”

  “I’ve had a lot of chances, but I’ve squandered them. Seeing him that way…seeing him so helpless…I understand how much he means to me, and how much I need him.”

  Bianca reached for her hand, pulled it into her lap, clasped it as she interlaced her fingers with Shelby’s.

  “I’ve been a fool.”

  “Then stop.”

  Shelby laughed, a pitiful sound given that it came out as she choked on a sob. Why did her heart have to hurt so much? Why did she keep losing people she cared about? Only Max wasn’t lost. He was lying a few feet from her. She only had to figure out how to bridge the distance she had created between them.

  “I have to stop being so afraid.”

  “What, exactly, are you afraid of?”

  “Caring too much?”

  Bianca stood, leaned down, and kissed her on top of the head. “There’s no such thing, mi hermana. There’s no such thing.”

  Shelby watched her walk away, walk over to Patrick. She said something, reached down, and touched his face. Patrick rubbed the top of his head, took her hand, and led her toward their bedrolls. Their commitment to one another was evident in so many different ways, from the looks they gave one another to something as simple and ordinary as reaching for one another’s hands.

  With that image in mind, Shelby stood and made her way toward her guard position. Two of their group stood guard in three-hour shifts while the others slept.

  She had duty with Gabe, each of them positioned at opposite ends of their camp.

  There was no fear of falling asleep. She felt more awake than she had in years. Her eyes were suddenly opened wide, and she could see everything around her, hear everything, sense everything.

  The starlight was brighter. She could make out the sound of a redbird in a nearby tree. A cow lowed softly. Shelby held her rifle at the ready, every fiber of her body attune to the world around her, to the possible danger approaching them. But there was no danger that night. It was a spring night in Texas, the March wind occasionally gusting, the stars big and bright, the moon gracing them with a bit of extra light.

  This was their world. She could go through it alone, or she could accept the love that Max continually offered her. She’d always thought of herself as a brave person, but love wasn’t for the faint of heart. Did she have that kind of courage? She wiped her palms on her pants, marveled that her body was reacting like she was standing on a precipice. And maybe she was.

  When her shift was up, she’d made up her mind.

  She gathered up her bedroll, her pack, her weapon, and her flashlight, and moved it all next to Max.

  He didn’t wake, didn’t stir in any way.

  His mother had said it was often like that, as if he had to slip away until the pain eased.

  It didn’t matter that Max wasn’t aware of her presence. She knew she was beside him, watching over him, there in case he needed her. She knew she was where she was supposed to be, which is perhaps why she was able to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  One day passed, and then two. They continued their rotation, and for Shelby the time became a blur of guard duties, meals, sleep, and monitoring Max. Each time she came off duty, she checked on him to make sure his breathing was steady and his shelter was as dark as possible. They’d hung some of their extra clothing over a tarp to block out the worst of the sun.

  The weather grew steadily warmer. An afternoon shower left them dripping wet but cleaner. Gabe, Bianca, and Patrick had sheltered in the Hummer. Shelby stayed with Max. The others offered, but she needed to be there with him. She realized now, more than ever, how much she cared for him.

  Perhaps it was seeing him so incapacitated that he was unable to even reach for the bottle of water. Perhaps it was knowing that she couldn’t move forward without him, wouldn’t even consider doing so.

  It was the middle of the third night, as Shelby was coming off a guard shift, that Max reached for her hand and pulled her close to his side. She set the low-light lantern on the ground. It cast a soft glow across the makeshift shelter.

  “How are you?”

  “Better.”

  “Can you drink a little?”

  He nodded, so she uncapped the bottle, held it for him, supported his head as he sipped from it.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was gravelly, soft, tender.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Max. This isn’t something you can help. It’s part of who you are.”

  “And you love me anyway?”

  The words were teasing, but she saw the seriousness in his expression, the worry in his eyes. Why would he worry, though? He had to know he’d held her heart in his hands for more than twenty years.

  “I do.” She reached out and ran the tips of her fingers up and down his face.

  “Marry me, Shelby.”

  “Now? Here?” It was wrong to make light of his words at such a moment, but her heart was thundering so fast that she felt light-headed. It had been almost a year since the flare. Max had spent every day since that terrible event trying to prove his loyalty, striving to show how much he cared, sacrificing for her and Carter and their friends. This was a man that she could trust with her future and with her heart.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you.”

  “As soon as we get home.”

  Shelby glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes after three in the morning, and they were discussing wedding plans. “Maybe you should focus on getting well.”

  “I’m better.” He struggled to a sitting position, pulled her into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll be to Glen Rose by noon, Shelby. By sunset we should be home.”

  She reached up, touched his lips, allowed him to kiss her, and for the first time in many years, she didn’t hold a thing back. She yielded her dreams and hopes and fears in the space of that kiss.

  True to his word, Max was ready to leave at sunrise. Shelby felt herself grinning when he shared their plans to marry with the group as they ate granola and sipped campfire coffee.

  Cheers, hugs, and congratulations, and then they were on their way. But as they passed northeast of Dallas, their mood grew more somber.

  Bianca leaned forward and tapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Explain why we’re not seeing effects from the blast.”

  “All indications are that the blast occurred in the downtown area. We don’t know why or who was responsible. The destruction there would be complete.”

  “Vaporized?” Max asked.

  “Pretty much. Everything from the blast site out one mile in all directions would be gone. Severe damage another quarter mile—it’s doubtful anyone within that radius would have survived.”

  No one spoke. They stared out the Hummer’s windows but couldn’t see anything noteworthy. In fact, the entire area was a ghost town.

  “Moderate damage up to two miles out, and light damage for three and a half.”

  “But we’re nearly twenty miles away, and everyone is gone.” Shelby clutched her journal as though it might hold answers to what they were seeing. “Why?”

  “People panic in unknown situations, especially ones that have been portrayed over and over again in movies. My guess is they saw the mushroom cloud, heard the blast wind, and they ran. Maybe they were worried about the weather changing, blowing radioactive fallout their way.”

  “Such a waste.” Patrick practically spat the words. “Things were bad enough. People were dealing with enough, and some maniac had to get his hands on a bomb. But why set it off? What did they hope to accomplish?”

  No one spoke for a few moments, honoring with their silence those who had perished. When they’d driven another mile, Gabe cleared his throat and said, “General Massey is of the opinion that it was intentional, not accidental—and before you ask, I can’t tell you why. Several groups, both foreign and domestic, have claimed responsibility.”


  “How do we know that?” Bianca had been staring out the window, but now she leaned forward into the front seat. “How can they know that?”

  “Morse code still works. Couriers can travel on foot or on horse or even in a vehicle as we are. His information is solid. That’s all I can say.”

  “Not much information, if you ask me.” Max crossed his arms. “Someone did it. We could have told him that.”

  “He knows more, but I can’t share it.” Gabe nodded toward a roadside park. “Anyone want a break?”

  “No.” Shelby knew she was speaking for the entire group, that they all felt the same. “Let’s get out of here.”

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  They stopped to eat lunch in the Hummer, stretching their legs and using the facilities, which basically meant stepping off into a wooded area to go to the bathroom. It went unsaid that no one went anywhere alone. They were on high alert.

  Overall they were making good time, and Max should have felt pleased. He was pleased.

  He was still riding a high that Shelby had agreed to marry him, that she’d finally knocked down the carefully erected emotional wall she’d kept between them. Everything was different—the way she looked at him, her hand on his arm, even the way she wrote in her journal and then pushed it into his hands. At long last, they were a team, and he knew a peace unlike anything he could remember.

  But riding beneath all of that was the undercurrent of danger. Like a storm, they could practically smell its approach. They skirted Fort Worth, began to see people again when they dropped south to Cleburne, and then they turned west to Glen Rose. No one was on the roads, but occasionally they would spot a farmer in the distance, working with a team of horses and planting his crops the old way.

  The sun was dipping toward the western sky by the time they turned north on Highway 144.