I had plenty of time to think as I tailed Noah. More than once I second guessed my decision. After all, what did I really know about him? So far, he’d kept his word. He’d taken me to get my vehicle and not asked questions when I stopped to collect another of my stashes. Between what was hidden in the trunk and the contents of my backpack, I had enough supplies and money to start over anywhere in the world.
The three-hour drive took us north, closer to the Canadian border. I relaxed. I’d already scouted out Canada as a possible relocation point. Crossing the border was easy provided I stayed away from the noninfected entry points of Quebec and New Brunswick. Between the two cities lay miles of woods, small towns populated by the infected, and deserted homesteads situated right on the border.
I could hole up in one of the homes and ride out the winter season. Growing up, we’d hunted in the surrounding woods for our meat and grown and canned the fruit and vegetables we’d eaten. I knew how to chop firewood and utilize wood stoves for cooking. Electricity had been provided by generators and could be taken away at Hiram’s whim. He was a firm believer of hardship building character. I had no problems living off the land. It would be lonely, but lonely was the way of life for someone on the run. A life of solitude was better than being captured and sold to the highest bidder.
The Freedom Society, the agency that had helped me escape from my cult, had warned me that to be infected was to crave the company of those of my kind. Being female put me at an even greater disadvantage. I’d need the emotional connections and feedback that relationships with others provided. Over the years, I’d had friends and acquaintances. Being a loner made you too noticeable. However, I never let down my guard. I never forgot that my whole life was a lie.
The Freedom Society had been around since the twenty-first century. It had begun its life as an organization created to help victims of human trafficking and had survived throughout the centuries. It had even managed to last out the nationwide civil unrest and anti-government uprisings in the early days of the pandemic.
The Society had patterned their program after the Department of Justice’s old Federal Witness Security Program. They’d created multiple new identities with authentic documentation for me. Housing, a living allowance, and medical care was also provided, along with computer training, a college education, and later, employment assistance. Then they’d relocated me to another part of the country away from the growing tentacles of my former cult. The Society had networks all over the country. Places I could run, even now should my need be dire. It wasn’t something I’d consider due to the risk it would pose to other victims.
Normally, the assistance program lasted two to three years. Because I’d been a minor and because my assigned caseworker, Sabina, had a soft spot for me, they’d allowed me to stay in it longer. At the ten-year mark, they’d finally cut me loose. Sabina said she’d taught me everything I needed to know to survive. She could no longer justify allotting precious resources to me when there were so many victims that needed their help. For the first time, I’d been completely on my own. Without Sabina constantly checking on me, I’d felt adrift. The last tie to my past was gone.
The antique, hybrid Ford F-150 signaled and eased past the ruts to the side of the road. Time and neglect had worn down the outer lanes and edges of the four-laned county road. The painted yellow center line was all but invisible in the strong sunlight. Vehicles drove down the center, moving to the side on the rare occasions when they met traffic coming in the opposite direction.
I eased my nondescript, ancient Toyota Highlander to the side of the road. It ran off fossil fuels, modified biodiesel fuels, and electricity. Since only the infected still used vehicles that operated solely off fossil fuels, my Highlander helped me blend in when living amongst the noninfected. The storage space in the back was filled with camping gear, emergency food supplies, and weapons.
Noah got out of his truck. The thing was huge. Solid black, with a crew cab and a topper, it looked like it could hold six people comfortably and haul any number of objects. I turned my attention from his vehicle to see that Noah had almost reached mine. He walked up and tapped on the window, which I obligingly lowered.
“Get out. Grab whatever you need. You’re riding with me,” he said.
“No.” We’d already had this argument, twice.
Noah settled his hands on his hips, and his shaggy, golden-brown hair fell forward as he leaned closer to the window. He squinted deep set brown eyes at me above his blade of a nose. His tanned, square jaw, covered in morning stubble, firmed. “You’re weaving all over the road. It is obvious to anyone with sense that you’re too tired to drive.”
I blinked at him. “I’m not leaving my vehicle. How much further until we reach your holding?”
We’d already driven two hours to get to New Town. Spent an hour there, gassed up, and had now been on the road for another three.
Noah threw his head to the sky and cursed. “Cherise.”
“Noah,” I said in exactly the same exasperated tone of voice.
I studied Noah while he gritted his teeth and fought for control. He wore a pair of fatigues in desert camouflage colors, a green fitted t-shirt, and well-worn, dusty combat boots. There was a knife sheathed to his waist, and sometime after we’d left the woods, he’d armed himself with several firearms. I snorted. And he’d commented on the illegal nature of my weapon. The man was a walking arsenal. He moved like someone with extensive military training.
He couldn’t force me out of the vehicle. We were about the same height, though I may have been an inch or so taller. Noah had a lean, wiry body. The kind that was crazy strong and burned through calories like a fire consumed wood. As far as infected males went, he was a little on the small side, but I knew better than anyone that appearances were often deceiving.
Hiram had been built like Noah. The man had been as strong as an ox and as viscous as a rattler. His fists had been huge and one blow from them at full strength was enough to knock a man off his feet. Anyone looking at Hiram, thinking he was an easy target quickly learned different. The main difference between Hiram and Noah were the eyes. Hiram’s revealed not only his cruel nature, but his insanity. Noah’s eyes were kind.
“I’m not suggesting we leave your vehicle behind. I have a tow strap. Let me tow it. You can ride with me, curl up, and take a nap. We still have another hour or so ahead of us,” he asked with more patience than I’d thought possible.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to see where we’re going,” I said.
“If you fall asleep while driving, you won’t get where we’re going,” he said, his voice hard.
When I hesitated, he snarled, “I can draw you a fucking map. Will that satisfy you?”
So, he did have a temper under all of that calm. I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know you well enough to sleep in your presence.” When a person slept, it left them vulnerable.
That seemed to stop him in his tracks. “You’re right. How about this? I’ll tie a line to your vehicle and tow you. You stay in your vehicle, where you feel safe, and rest your eyes.”
I considered his offer. I was tired, hungry, and thirsty. The last two things I could do something about. The first one only sleep would cure. I opened the driver’s door and got out.
Noah raised his eyebrows. “You’re riding with me?”
“No. Getting water out of the trunk. You want a bottle?” I asked as I walked to the rear of the Highlander.
“Sure. About that tow…?” he said.
“Go ahead. As long as I can stay in my vehicle, I don’t care what you do.” I bumped the rear release with my foot and tugged open the rear door. I’d covered the rear windows with black plastic so no one could see inside. The safety measure cut down on theft. Sunlight flooded the cargo space.
I dug around until I found the small electric cooler. The small unit was powered by the car and had solar panels on it for camping. I pulled out two bottles of water and a pack of beef jerky. Sealing the cooler, I put everything back in its place and closed the door.
Noah was on the ground between the vehicles, hooking up the tow strap. I visually followed the long line of his legs and couldn’t help but notice the healthy bulge of his privates. I didn’t know what animals dominated his DNA, but my guess was feline. It was in the fluid way he moved.
Snatching my eyes away from Noah, I scanned the deserted countryside. Off in the distance, visible between the sparse trees, stood an empty house. Based on the overgrown fields around it, this used to be a farm. It hadn’t been inhabited in a long time. Part of the house was burnt. Another portion had a tree growing up out of the middle of it.
So many lives had been destroyed during the pandemic’s initial outbreak. It had divided families, ruined livelihoods, and turned neighbor against neighbor. People who survived the onset of the virus and came out of the fevers with their minds whole were treated like pariahs. History books likened it to the AIDs crisis of the twentieth century, or the Covid-19 pandemic of the twenty-first century.
No one was safe. It swept through large metropolitans, small town America, and every rural area in between. Initially, there’d been so much confusion about how the virus was transmitted that it caused panic and hysteria. The team of American scientists who’d created the virus had been slow to claim responsibility for what they’d done. The misdirection and finger pointing had continued until their ranks were decimated. The survivors, knowing they needed help finding a cure, had finally owned up to the truth.
Unfortunately, the virus hadn’t stayed within our borders. The United States had been forced to make reparations to so many countries, it had almost bankrupted us as a nation. Almost fifty years since the initial outbreak and a cure still hadn’t been found.
There were vaccines that acted like blockers, slowing the transmission. Other vaccines worked with the body’s immune system to reduce the severity of the initial onset, but they were expensive. Availability was limited to those deemed essential, and those who had the money to afford it. Its effectiveness was also limited in that it had to be administered before exposure to the virus, or before the onset of viral symptoms.
“I’m done.” Noah rose beside me, breaking into my thoughts. I handed him the water and finished drinking the rest of my bottle.
“Thanks,” he said.
“I have food, too,” I offered, showing him the bag of jerky.
“I’m good.” He seemed to hesitate. “Look, I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you riding in your vehicle. Anything could happen. The tow strap could come loose. I could hit a rut at a wrong angle and the vehicle could slip. I know you’re not comfortable with me yet, but you have to learn to deal with me sometime. We’ll be living in the same house.”
My eyebrows rose and my eyes narrowed. This was the first I’d heard of this.
“If it worries you, sit in the back. You have weapons. I’d have to stop the vehicle, reach over the seat or open the rear cab door to get to you. You’d feel me coming and have enough time to stop me. We can load your belongings into my cargo space. Or, bring what’s most important to you and leave the rest in yours.” Noah stared at me, his eyes earnest.
I glanced behind us at the road. Eventually, I’d have to learn how to begin trusting people. Might as well start with Noah. He’d said his only interest was my safety. I needed to know if that was true.
“Okay.”
He tilted his head to the side. It was apparent from the widening of his eyes that I’d surprised him. “Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll sit in the back. As you said, if you move the wrong way, I can have a bullet in the back of your head, or a knife protruding from your neck in an instant.”
Noah grimaced. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
My smile was as sweet as sugar, my tone saccharine when I said, “You’re welcome.”