“How we doing?” Dean rasped.
A round of faint “okays” and fakey smiles answered.
“Let’s take a five-minute breather.” Dean laid out the map on top of his tarp-covered cart.
Justin wanted to spout off that a wimpy five-minute break would only make him more tired. But the relief washing over Ella’s flushed face told him to stop whining as she sat heavily on the shoulder’s railing. Ella insisted on toting Mateo in the baby sling under the poncho, keeping him hands-free in case of an attack. She must be super-hot.
To his amazement, they hadn’t seen any Zs or marauders. Although they had come across numerous skeletons. People who had died with no one to bury them. How sad was that? Pangs of guilt haunted him, knowing they should bury these forgotten people. Honestly, they were too exhausted.
He handed Ella his canteen since she saved hers for Mateo’s bottles. “There’s a little left.”
Ella took a sip. “Mijo’s not suffering from the heat, thanks to the tea.” She went back to humming and rocking him.
“You’re the best mom ever.” He kissed her sweaty forehead. She was overheating, close to the danger zone.
Everyone seemed lost in their own funk, too tired, too hot, and too depressed to talk. Duh! Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? He dug through his pack, hoping he hadn’t tossed it. There it was, wrapped in a T-shirt. “Yowza!” He held up the can of compressed air triumphantly.
Ella frowned with obvious irritation, not in the mood for his humor. Or anything.
“Guys, watch this.” Justin walked a few feet away. He turned the can of air upside down and sprayed his steel canteen until it the metal iced over.
“Who wants a drink of cold water!” Suddenly Justin had everyone’s attention.
Ella gave him a quizzical look. “Really?” She grabbed it.
“Oh my God! It’s icy cold.” She took another drink. “How’d you know?”
“It’s a computer geek hack. You just have to hold the can upside down for the gas to chill it.” Justin had snagged it during one of his looting runs. “Next.”
Mindy handed him a canteen without hesitation.
“Me too!” Twila trilled.
“Canned air dusters. Never would have thought of it,” Dean said. “Isn’t the gas toxic?”
“Ye-ah, difluoroethane’s toxic. But, I’m pretty sure the steel canteen will protect the water.” He shook Mindy’s canteen. Hardly anything left. The same with Twila’s and Scarlett’s. “Actually, since there’s not much water left, and there’s not enough in the can to ice everyone’s canteen—you guys mind sharing?”
Luther held out his canteen. “I’m up for that.”
Dean didn’t argue.
Justin carefully poured what little was left from everyone’s canteens into his like it was nitroglycerin, not spilling a single drop. Then, he stood away from them and frosted the canteen.
He passed around the canteen.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Scarlett exclaimed. “Twila, don’t drink too much.”
Even Mindy thanked him sheepishly.
“Ahh,” Luther let out after taking a gulp.
“That definitely hits the spot!” When Dean folded the map, everyone automatically got to their feet. It was time to continue their search for never-never land . . .
The bumbity-bumpity-bump of the clanging carts over the cracked pavement clamored above his thoughts. Where in the heck was Dean taking them? They had passed plenty of motels they could have claimed as their new safehouse. But, no. Dean insisted on this one unspoken place. According to Scarlett, the Ancient Ones surveilled their thoughts like some cosmic voyeur from another dimension.
Twila continually bugged him to stop thinking about their surroundings. The only way he could do that was to make his mind go completely blank. That freaked him out even more. Still, he constantly struggled for that elusive state of nothingness by visualizing he was an insignificant tumbleweed rambling the deserted-dusty roads.
An eerie electric-like tension seemed to push them on. And he knew what it was. The blackbirds. The Imax screen in his mind glowed with red eyes swirling in an oily-black ocean—searching for them.
Dean stopped to kick over a fallen road sign caked with dirt. Everyone stopped and waited. Dean went OCD when it came to road signs and maps.
Luther helped Dean scrape off the dirt. “One mile to Coyote Creek Cafe,” Luther grunted with a raw throat.
“Well, all be darned! Coyote Creek. That’s the bridge we’re looking for.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “If it’s intact, we’ve got it made.” But his voice was haggard. The old guy was close to his breaking point. They all were.
Ella shuffled through Mindy’s cart. “Sorry, I need to change mijo’s diaper.”
Too much info. Justin detested anything to do with baby diapers and baby puke. Far worse, they only had the cloth diapers Scarlett had given them. And that meant lugging dirty diapers around until they found a water source. Dis-gust-ing.
“Dean, I can jog to the bridge and scope it out. While you guys take care of—stuff,” Justin insinuated. He didn’t care how tired he was; he’d do anything to shirk out of doo-doo diaper duty.
“What do you think, Scarlett?” Dean asked.
Scarlett pressed her fingers to her forehead. “My ears are humming. The energy just shifted. I can’t make it out.” She turned to Twila, who now walked with them since they were down to two freaking carts.
When Twila’s head jerked up at the sky, all eyes followed. “My ears hum, too. I don’t know what it means.” She plopped down into the middle of the buckled road.
Dean glanced around at their despondent faces. “Might as well.”
“Want me to come with?” Luther asked.
It looked like Luther needed a break too. “I’m good.” Besides, alone time gave him a chance to do some serious fracking after scarfing chili
