They broke out some food, and had a dinner consisting of apples, bread, and some kind of deli meat. As she’d done all day, Tamara only took a couple sips of water. Even though it was dark in their hiding space, the idea of peeing in front of Bobby had zero appeal to her.
The knock had been on the side of the truck, right behind her head. Tamara nearly leaped forward in surprise.
She wanted to scream, “We’re here! We’re here!” But she held her tongue.
She could hear Bobby already working the door latch. As he opened the door, they could see that the back of the truck was still open, and outside it was night.
“You wait here. I’ll check,” Bobby said.
“Hell, no. You wait here.
She pushed past him and walked stiffly to the back of the truck. It was cool out, much cooler, in fact, than it had been when she and Bobby entered their sanctuary, making her realize that the box had actually been heated. She crossed her arms and ran her hands up and down her biceps as she stepped onto the back bumper, and then hopped to the ground.
They seemed to be parked on a small grass clearing in the middle of an evergreen forest. Pine trees encircled the part of the clearing she could see. One thing was for sure-they were certainly not in the Mojave Desert any more.
She looked over her shoulder as Bobby stepped down to join her.
“Where the hell are we?” he asked.
She was about to say she had no clue when a voice from near the front of the truck called out, “Hello?”
Tamara and Bobby exchanged a look, then walked over and peeked around the side.
Standing by the cab were a smiling man and woman.
“Oh, good,” the man said, taking a couple steps forward. “I was afraid you guys might have wandered off. I wasn’t looking forward to hunting you down.”
“Hunting?” Tamara said.
“Oh, no, no, no,” the man said with a chuckle. “Bad choice of words. Searching is more what I meant. Come on. You probably want to get out of here.”
Still leery, Tamara and Bobby stepped around the side and walked halfway up to the cab.
“Who are you, exactly?” Tamara asked.
“Me? I’m Mike.” The man closed the distance between them and extended his hand.
Bobby shook it automatically, while Tamara did so with more reluctance.
“And that’s my wife, Janice.”
Janice waved, but didn’t come closer. She looked as cold as Tamara felt.
“So what are you doing here?” Tamara asked.
Mike shrugged. “Offering you a ride.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Janice called out. “I’m going back inside. It’s too cold out here.” She started walking around the front of the truck. “Coffee should be ready by now, so whenever you’re ready.”
“Coffee?” Bobby said.
Mike smiled. “Sure. Janice makes the best on the highway.”
When Bobby gave him an odd look, Mike smiled and motioned for them to follow him to the front of the truck. From there, they could see an old Winnebago RV parked fifty feet away.
Bobby glanced at Tamara. “Come on. They’re obviously here to help us.”
Tamara looked at the Winnebago. “Do you have a bathroom in that thing?”
“We do,” Mike said with a smile.
She could feel her tension ease. “Then a cup of coffee sounds great.”
“Excellent,” Mike told her. “After you.”
51
It was a struggle for Martina to open her eyes. When she did, the brightness of the new day made her shut them almost immediately. She could feel the congestion in her nose, and the rawness in her throat. When she’d fallen asleep, she’d felt fine. Now, not so much.
Her last morning. She was sure of it.
She worked her eyes open again, then rolled over and looked at the spot where Ben had been sleeping. He wasn’t there.
She raised herself up on her elbows. She could hear sniffling elsewhere in the dining area, and even a couple of coughs, her friends all dying with her.
“You’re up.”
She looked over her shoulder. Ben was standing behind her. He must have been in the kitchen. Though he was smiling, she could tell by his red nose that he was sick, too. That depressed her even more. She liked him, and had been hoping that maybe he’d be the one to survive.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re all sour face.”
She lay her head back down. “I guess I was kind of hoping we wouldn’t get it.”
“Right,” he said, his smile widening. “You’ve been asleep.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
With more than just a bit of effort, Ben helped Martina to her feet, then led her to the front of the cafe. Most of the others were there, all but one or two showing signs of the flu. The TV on the counter was on, tuned to PCN. At the bottom of the screen was a banner that read:
“Lifted?” Martina said. “But we’re all sick here.”
“Yeah, and we’re still in the quarantine zone, but not for long,” Ben told her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe he can tell you,” he said, nodding at the next booth over.
She turned and saw Paul sitting on the end of the bench seat. He looked tired-exhausted, actually-but what other signs of the illness he’d had seemed to be gone.
“You owe me a glass of orange juice,” Ben said. “I believe that was our bet.”
“He’s all right?” she asked quietly.
“He’s recovering from the illness, but I don’t think he’d say he’s all right.”
Of course. His brother and his girlfriend.
“They’re saying on the news that there have been over five hundred new cases in the last thirty-six hours, but most haven’t resulted in death. People are being asked to voluntarily stay home until the flu has disappeared, but the quarantine is expected to be fully lifted by tomorrow night.”
“So…what? It just stopped killing people?”
“Apparently.”
She couldn’t believe it. “We’re going to live?”
Ben smiled again. “Didn’t I tell you this wasn’t going to be your last morning?”
52
“Would you like me to play it again?” the Director of Preparation asked.
