they can hide, so they’ll know where to go when they start getting outbreak reports.” I squirted more lighter fluid onto my makeshift pyre. “Maybe the people who live around here would feel like it was too much like giving up. Leave the walls standing so we can build a new roof when the crisis is over. Don’t tear down something you’re going to want to use later.”
“Do you really think people are going to want to go to places like this ever again? Even if we kill all the damn zombies, we’ll remember where the dangers were.”
“Will we?” I stuck the lighter fluid back into my pocket. My hands were smudgy with old ash from the barbecue pit, and I wiped them carelessly clean against the seat of my jeans. “People have pretty short memories when they want to. It’ll take a few generations, but give them time, and things like this will be all the rage again. Just watch.”
“Assuming we ever get to that point.”
“Well, yeah. Which is going to take people not trying to kill us for a little while.” The bottle of knockoff Everclear Becks picked up at the convenience store turned out to make an excellent accelerant. I dumped it out over the fire. The flames leapt up and then died back down, burning off the additional fuel in seconds.
Mahir snorted. “That would be a rather impressive change.”
“Wouldn’t it?” I kicked some dirt onto the remaining flames. “If we burn this place down, you think we’ll get in trouble for arson?”
“I think weou tht medals from the bloody civic planning commission.”
“Cool.” I kicked more dirt onto the fire. That would have to be good enough; we didn’t have time to dawdle. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before Darwin decides we need a spanking.”
Becks looked over as we approached, nodding her chin curtly toward the smoke still wafting up from the barbecue pit. “We done here?” she asked.
“Unless you want to stick around and make s’mores, yeah, we are.”
She snorted. “I suppose we’d roast our marshmallows on sticks and tell each other ghost stories after the sun went down?”
“Something like that.” I reached for the van door and paused, looking at Mahir, who was staring up at the sky. “What now?”
“Look at those clouds.” He sounded faintly awed. Becks and I exchanged a glance, tilted our heads back, and looked.
Growing up in California meant George and I never really experienced that much in the way of what most people would consider “weather.” We got more in the way of “climate.” Still, even California gets rained on, and I know what a cloud looks like when it’s getting ready to storm in earnest. The clouds forming overhead were blacker than any that I’d ever seen, hanging low in the sky and visibly heavy with rain. They were coming together at a disturbing rate. The sky wasn’t exactly clear when we pulled off, but it hadn’t been anything like this.
Becks whistled low. “That is
“Yeah, and we get to drive in it.” I opened the van door. “As long as we don’t get washed away, this could actually work in our favor. If that sucker comes down as hard as it looks like it’s going to, we’re gonna be a bitch to track.”
“Saved by the storm,” said Mahir. “I suppose it’s true that stranger things have happened.”
Becks rolled her eyes. “I hate to be the one to get all negative on you two, but we’re in Kansas, and we’re planning to
I shook my head. “That might be the smart thing to do, but it’s not an option. If the CDC is following us, they’re going to expect us to wait out the storm. This could be the best shot we have at getting clear.” Becks still looked unconvinced. I didn’t blame her; I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. “Look, we’ll keep the weather advisory running on Mahir’s phone. It’s a nonspecific enough program that no one should be able to use it to track us, and if it starts flashing ‘Get off the road, assholes,’ we’ll pull off until the storm passes. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, slowly. “But if we get blown to Oz, I’m going to drop a house on your ass.”
“See, that’s the sort of compromise I can live with.” I got into the van. Becks and ir did the same.
“Absolutely not,” I muttered, and started the engine.
We backed out of the rest area a little at a time. Once we were on the road, Mahir got out to close the gate, Becks covering him with her rifle the whole time. The highway was clear in all directions. What travelers we might have had to deal with were clearly all smarter than we were and had chosen to get out of the path of the oncoming storm. The van shuddered as the wheels left the cracked pavement of the rest area entrance for the smooth, well-maintained asphalt of U.S. 400, running west, toward California.
The light faded out a little bit at a time, until I was driving with the lights on in what should have been the middle of the day. The wind picked up as the light slipped away, and the flatness of Kansas offered no real shelter. The van rattled and fought against me until I was forced to slow to forty miles an hour, Mahir still tapping away in the front passenger seat. Becks stayed crouched in the back with her rifle in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other, munching as she watched out the window. As long as it kept her awake, I really didn’t care what she wanted to do. I was going to need her to take over driving duties before too much longer, at least if we wanted to get out of this storm without smashing the van by the side of the road.
Kansas stretched out in front of us like a bleak alien landscape, the shadows cast by the clouds turning everything strange. I turned the radio on just to break the silence, pushed down the gas a little more, and drove onward, into the dark.
We didn’t know. There was nothing we could have done, and we didn’t know. You can’t shoot the wind. You can’t argue with the clouds. There was nothing,
It wasn’t our fault. And if I say that enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it. Oh, fuck.
It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t know.
Oh, God, we didn’t know.
—From
Twenty-two
We crossed Kansas on the leading edge of the storm, chasing the light until the sun went down and we were driving in darkness so absolute that it was oppressive. The clouds covered the sky until they blocked out all traces of the stars, and when the rain started—about half an hour after the sun went down—visibility dropped to almost zero, even with the high beams on.
Becks took over driving after the rain started, while I moved to the back and the increasingly futile task owatching for pursuit. We hadn’t spotted anybody yet, but that didn’t mean no one was coming; it just meant they’d been careful enough to stay out of sight. There was a chance the rain would make them careless, driving them closer as they tried to keep from losing us. Of course, there was also a chance I’d wind up shooting myself in the leg if I tried to fire under these conditions. Sadly, that was a risk we had to take.
There was one good thing about the way the wind was howling; with Becks and Mahir in the front seat and me at the rear, they wouldn’t be able to hear me over the storm. “Christ, George, will you listen to that?” I whispered. “It’s like it wants to blow us all the way back to California.”
“Maybe they’re not sure it was us.” The excuse sounded stupid almost before it was out of my mouth. The
