by B.R. Paulson
Chapter 3
Trudging down the empty sidewalk, I focused on placing one foot and then another in the shadow of my mother’s steps. The further from town we walked, the more deserted the streets and houses seemed.
To our right, the grating sound of metal rolling on metal scratched through the smoky air.
Mom grabbed my sweatshirt and shoved me behind a privacy line of arborvitae. The scratchy branches and foliage clung to strands of my hair, freeing them from my braid. She tucked me between her and the tall bushes. Through thin slits we watched in half-hunkered down positions.
In the setting daylight, a man poked his head from the open garage. He checked the road, left and right, inspecting homes and their yards. For the briefest moment, I could’ve sworn he spied us, but his gaze moved on. After another heart beat, he disappeared back inside his garage.
Red lights glowed from the opening at the same time growls from a turned-over engine reached us.
“Get down on the ground.” Mom pushed on my shoulder, and I sank to the short grass under the pressure. She joined me, yanking at the dark hood on my jacket to cover my face. “He’s going to come this way. We came in the only entrance by road.” She really had researched our route.
The two-door Jeep backed down the driveway and turned around on the street. He passed us, things tied to the tops and back of the vehicle with bungee cords. Small faces peered into the neighborhood from the back windows and a woman’s face blocked the man’s in the passenger window.
Mom folded her arms. She murmured a quick prayer and stood once the red lights had turned the corner to the exit. “They won’t make it far.”
And that’s all she said.
Real sadness welled within me. Would anyone else make it? Would we?
We tromped onto the sidewalk, falling easily into our pace. Mom looked around us consistently, as if knowing where we were and if anyone was around us would keep us safe.
The acrid scent of smoke didn’t burn as badly so far north.
I snorted, watching as we passed line after line on the sidewalk.
Mom stopped and turned, panting slightly. The light wasn’t lingering and shadows hollowed her cheeks and eyes. “What’s the matter?”
Shaking my head, I planted my feet beside her. “Nothing’s wrong. I was laughing at myself.” Grateful for another break, I continued, trying to prolong the rest even if only for a few more seconds. “The smoke doesn’t seem as thick up here. I think it’s funny we haven’t gone more than a couple miles and I’m already talking like we’re so far away.”
I bit back on confessing about the sting in my heart that I was leaving home. Mom had already prepared me for this. Inevitable and destined. Nothing much more was needed, I guess.
She glanced beyond me, toward town, eyes narrowed. “Yep, I can imagine that would be funny.” Piercing me with her stare, she brushed at my sleeves and small white and black flakes smeared more than anything. “You have ash on your clothes. Did you get burned at all?”
“No. Just my arms. It’s not a big deal, Mom.” I pointed at the house we stopped in front of. “Do you think we could stay here tonight?”
Pressing her lips together, Mom cast a fleeting look over her shoulder and then back to me. “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re tired and ready to stop for the night, but we need to keep going. We’re supposed to be at the checkpoint in two days. At this rate, we might not make it in a week.” She slowly caught her breath as she focused on inhaling through her nose and exhaling through rounded lips.
Her priorities had shifted from working and crafts to center around the checkpoint, the camp, the group, the preparations, etc. Nothing ever came before preparing for the impending war. Even her prayer circle had its own time and place. Mom only went to church if she determined the situation was safe. Too many people trying to topple Christ, she said.
I didn’t know anything about that. All I knew was that most of the kids at school had left to be homeschooled and the ones who continued attending were too scared to ask their parents if the world was crashing while we sat unprotected at our desks.
In my case, I guess I should’ve asked about being unprotected in the bathroom. Oh, crap What if I had actually been using the toilet when the bombs had started? A shiver trickled through me, standing my arm hair on end.
“Kelly, are you listening to me?” Mom snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. Her nails were cut short and she’d been picking at her cuticles.
I blinked. “Yes, I am. What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to go over the rules again while we take another second to catch our breath. After, we’ll find a place to make camp. We can go down early, so we can get an early start.” She lifted three fingers. “Name—”
Cutting her off, I covered her hand with mine. How did I make her understand I wasn’t a toddler? “I know the rules, Mom. You don’t have to keep reciting them to me.”
“Then let’s hear them. In the proper order, Kelly.” She arched her eyebrows and waited, not lowering her hand.
The proper order. Always the order. If she didn’t stop issuing demands, I would consider changing the order, just to set her on edge. Okay, it was a weak threat, but I was too tired and irritated to play her games. Yes, thankfully, she had been prepared for the chaos, but part of me worried maybe everything had happened because of people like Mom who had worried it into happening.
Oh, wow, I better play along before my fatigue had me convinced Mom was the one behind the entire world falling apart.
Clenching my teeth, I inhaled through my nose. To give her the benefit of the doubt, I could believe she didn’t know how irritating the repetition was. She might not know her rules didn’t fit with what I was trying to do with my life. But the resolve in her set jaw and tightening of her cheeks indicated none of that mattered.
I glanced at her hand, the fingers waiting for me with more patience than her expression. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I muttered. “Pray. Trust no one. Stay alive.” While staying alive fit in with my plans, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t trust people, and praying just wasn’t me.
Her faith hadn’t passed to me like her brunette hair and blue eyes had. Faith had skipped me as surely as Bodey, the captain of the math team – yep, homeschooled, too – had passed me by. Over and over. Like I didn’t exist. Since he’d graduated my opportunities had become more scarce to try for his attention. Even though we knew each other and often said hi, he wouldn’t think about me right then… not at the end of the world.
Didn’t matter now. He was probably dead. Like everyone else.
She inclined her head, finally dropping her hand. “Good. Let’s get to the forest, break to the north of Rathdrum, and stop. We should be out of the immediate crowds and a closer to the checkpoint.”
What crowds? I nodded. Even frustrated I wouldn’t abandon her. No way would I leave Mom, not when we only had each other. Where would I go? Running away wasn’t my style, especially at the beginning of a war predicted by historians as the war to obliterate the human species. People interested in history could be so vague.
Plus, she was all I had. I couldn’t forget that.
And I loved her. My mom.
We fell into step again, me behind, like a practiced funeral march.