Having traversed the roads several times in several days, Noah felt a sense of familiarity as he drove them. In spite of that, he took the turns with caution.
If there was one thing he’d learned, it was not to take his safety for granted.
Caddy held both rifles in her lap. Her head swiveled in all directions, assessing the roadway for signs of danger. It felt good to have a companion. Just a few days ago he’d been alone, forced to play the role of both navigator and scout. The presence of another person alleviated some of his concerns.
Beneath the rumble of the tires, Noah could make out the faint static of the radio. He’d turned it on once they’d cleared the neighborhood, hoping for a repeat of the broadcast he’d heard. So far, he’d heard nothing.
After a few minutes, Caddy turned and looked behind the seats.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“Jackpot.”
She pulled several items from the cab and placed them next to her. Noah snuck a glance. In addition to several weapons, she’d located some of the food from his pickup.
“You’re kidding me.”
He shook his head in disbelief. Over the past few days, it felt like his luck had gotten worse and worse. Every turn had introduced a new form of danger, and one by one his amenities had been stripped away. The discovery of the food seemed like a miracle. Before he could say another word, Caddy began tearing into one of the packages.
“I’ve never had apple cinnamon rice cakes before.”
Noah let loose a laugh.
“You’re in for a treat.”
Caddy offered him a handful; Noah reached out and popped several mini rice cakes in his mouth. Now that the immediate threat was behind them, his stomach was growling, and he was grateful for the chance to eat. The two of them crunched the food.
“There are even a few cans of gas in the truck bed,” Caddy added. “So we have that covered.”
After they’d consumed the entire package of rice cakes, Caddy flipped open the glove compartment and rustled through the car’s paperwork. She pulled out a tattered registration, unfolded it, and read the name printed on front.
“Norman Gateway,” she said.
Noah’s stomach fluttered. He wondered who the man had been. In all likelihood, the truck had been stolen. He doubted any of the men had owned it.
Regardless of its past, the F150 was providing them with a safe means of transportation, and for that he was relieved.
Having tossed aside the registration, Caddy pulled out a stack of folded road maps. She used one to pinpoint their location.
“We’ll want to go west for several miles,” she said, pointing to the horizon. “Connect with I-70. After that, we should be able to make it in a few hours.”
He nodded. They’d only been traveling for a little while, but already the road was starting to hypnotize him. The smooth pavement and yellow lines seemed to stretch on forever.
Noah realized he’d gone another night without sleeping. His eyelids were heavy; his hands were white from gripping the wheel. He shook his head back and forth to clear his drowsiness.
“Are you OK?” Caddy asked. “I can take over if you want.”
Noah smiled. “I’m a road warrior. I’ll be fine.”
For a second he pictured his best friend Kendall next to him. Just a week earlier, they’d been on a similar journey. It was hard to believe how much had changed since then. The past seemed like another world, a moment in time that could never be recaptured.
He blinked hard, trying to restore his focus to the road. The street had come to a fork. He slowed the vehicle.
“Where do I go?”
“Veer right.”
Noah took the turn. He surveyed the newly revealed landscape.
What was once a safe rural road now bore the marks of the violence—the street was filled with abandoned vehicles and the remains of the infected. As he passed by the properties, he half expected to see the occupants running out from inside, waving their arms for assistance.
If there were any survivors, they remained in hiding.
A few times he spotted movement in nearby fields—gray heads turning, arms reaching for the road. But the creatures were behind him almost as soon as he spotted them.
He thought back to the things he’d seen in the field by Caddy’s house. Was it possible the infection was running its course? If so, would it eventually stop all of them? He could only speculate.
In any case, he hoped that things were coming to an end. Life on the road—being homeless, starving, and in danger—was an existence from which he was ready to resign.
Noah gazed to his left. They’d entered a clear patch of road, and rolling, grass-covered hills made up the landscape. A cluster of pine trees hung in the distance, branches climbing up into the pale blue sky.
The scenery was beautiful.
For a moment, Noah was able to pretend that everything was normal, that he and Caddy were just a pair of friends out on a leisurely drive.
“You know what’s funny?” Caddy asked. “I’ve spent most of my life wishing I could leave, and now that I’m finally doing it, I’m realizing I’m going to miss my hometown.”
Noah smiled. “I know what you mean. Ever since this whole thing started, all I can think about is Portland. I guess you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
Caddy laughed. “Old sayings never lie.”
A burst of static on the radio interrupted their conversation. Noah jumped to attention, reaching for the dial. In between the static was a voice. He spun the knob from left to right, trying to home in on the signal. After a few seconds he could make out the words.
“Repeat, all survivors in the area should report to the checkpoint on I-70 to receive food, shelter, and medical treatment.”
Noah looked over at Caddy. Her face lit up, her mouth hung open. Unable to contain himself, he yelled into the air and pulled his companion in for a hug.
Noah kept the broadcast on while they drove, afraid the man’s voice would fade and disappear. Thankfully, it remained clear and strong.
According to the map they’d found, the location was only an hour away. Noah found it hard to believe that assistance could be so close. For the past few days, his journey had seemed impossible, the road from St. Matthews to Portland longer than ever. Not only would the checkpoint provide them with food and a safe haven, it would bring him one step closer to home.
Right now, he couldn’t envision traveling hundreds of miles straight. He wasn’t even sure if it’d be possible. Between road blockages, the agents, and the infected, his trip had already undergone several detours. He’d already been forced off his original path.
It was a wonder he’d made any progress at all.
“Do you think they’ll have showers there?” Caddy asked, her face still beaming.
Noah looked down and wrinkled his nose. “I sure hope so. For everyone’s sake.”
They laughed.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more—a change of clothes or a hot meal. Right now, either of those would seem like heaven,” Caddy said.
Noah eyed the few remaining packages of food on the seat, feeling the urge to tear one open in celebration, but he knew better. If the past week had taught him anything, it was that commodities like food were too scarce to waste.
After several miles of uninhabited road, the car started up an incline. Noah stared at the gas gauge.
The gas had drained to an eighth of a tank.
“I’m going to pull over and fill up,” he mentioned.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Caddy beckoned to the road ahead, where a few abandoned cars had cropped up. He studied the horizon, but saw no signs of movement.
“I’ll get past them, just in case,” he said.
The girl nodded, and he kept driving. The vehicles grew closer—two sedans that seemed to have run off the road in tandem. Noah wondered if they’d been in an accident. Perhaps the drivers had been so anxious to escape that they’d collided with one another. One of the driver’s side doors was hanging open into the road. He took the left lane to avoid hitting it.
It was then that he noticed the arm waving from the interior.
Noah hit the brakes as they passed by. He stared into the open vehicle. A bloodied man was hunched over in the seat. His eyes followed the F150 as they passed by.
“Did you see that?” Noah asked. “There was someone alive in there!”
“Maybe it was one of the infected.”
“I don’t think so.”
Caddy craned her neck behind them. Noah kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, but they’d already made progress up the road, making it impossible to see.
“It looked like a survivor. We should go back.”
He saw fear in Caddy’s eyes. She swallowed but said nothing. Noah kept his foot off the gas and brake, letting the vehicle coast. He contemplated the options. They could continue past the man and send back help when they reached the military compound.
But in that amount of time, the man might be dead. Besides, what if they never reached the checkpoint? What if there was no checkpoint after all?
Noah thought back to where he’d been just a few days ago. If Caddy had decided to pass him by, he was positive he would’ve died.
He applied the brakes and pulled off the road, then turned the vehicle in the other direction. The tires kicked up gravel as they transitioned from dirt to pavement.
“Is there a first aid kit in the glove compartment?”
Caddy shook her head. “I didn’t see one.”
“Shit.”
“I’ll look again.”
Caddy dumped open the bin, sifting through the papers while Noah picked up speed. The broken-down vehicle—and the figure inside—loomed closer. As they approached, Noah could see that the man’s arm was still moving, waving them down as if using the last strength he could muster.
Noah skidded to a halt across the street from the downed car. He could see the man inside more clearly now. The survivor was middle-aged, with a scruffy beard and disheveled hair. Blood flecked his face and stomach. It looked like he’d been severely injured. His seatbelt hung loose from his chest; one hand lay in his lap.
Noah threw the vehicle into park and grabbed the door handle.
“Wait here!” he cried.
Noah threw open the door. The sun glanced off his face, and he shielded his eyes from the glare. He’d only taken a step when Caddy screamed.
Her warning hit him too late.
Noah saw a flash of movement as the man raised his arm, then the glint of a gun.
The impact of the bullet knocked Noah backward. In an instant, his body became a tidal wave of pain.