The Ranch, if he wanted.
Except there was nothing at the Ranch anymore. He’d seen Project Eden’s attack on the Resistance’s headquarters, had seen the smoke rising in the air. He was sure anyone left alive in the Bunker had been taken away by the men in the helicopters.
No. There was no going back to the Ranch.
Thoughts of the attack darkened his mood. He tried to concentrate on the imaginary truck again. It was big and red and had a horn like a train whistle. It would be pulling a trailer full of—
The noise again.
Not an illusion.
A rumble, not quite as far away as before. But not the kind of rumble he associated with a truck.
An airplane?
He looked to the sky, but the clouds were still low and gray. If there were a plane up there, it wouldn’t be able to see him.
It’s gotta be a car. It has to be something on the road, right?
He heard it again, even closer. Whatever it was, it was coming fast, which meant it couldn’t be a car or even a truck, not with the snow on the road.
His shoulders sagged. A plane, flying above the clouds.
“Keep walking,” he said. “You’ll find something soon.”
He all but tuned the noise out as he continued down the road, but as the noise grew even closer, he couldn’t help but notice the distinct sound it was making.
Whoop-whoop-whoop.
Not an airplane. A helicopter.
The helicopters that had flown over the Ranch during the attack flashed through his mind. He could almost see the one that had hovered outside the barn while he and Mr. Hayes had hidden in the horse stalls.
It had to be the Project Eden people. They were coming for him.
Just as the thought finished, the dark silhouette of a helicopter dipped below the clouds about a quarter mile away. Brandon whipped his head side to side, looking for someplace to hide, but over the last couple of miles the trees on the right had moved farther from the road, and on the left they had disappeared altogether.
He looked back the way he’d come. The road had been taking a gentle curve. About a hundred yards behind him, the ground to the east dipped several feet, creating a short drop-off. Along the wall of the drop there appeared to be some kind of opening that ran under the road. A storm drain? A pipe?
Whatever it was, it was better than standing out in the open.
He started to run, each step a struggle as he pulled a foot out of the snow and sank it back in again. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder. Though he could hear the helicopter coming closer, it had disappeared into the clouds again.
It didn’t see you, it didn’t see you. It didn’t.
A few seconds later, the helicopter suddenly broke through the clouds right above the culvert Brandon had been heading toward. He stumbled in surprise and fell to the ground.
Keep moving!
He rose unsteadily to his feet as the helicopter descended to the road. Any thin hope he still had that those on board hadn’t seen him disappeared.
The culvert no longer an option, he turned south. He tried to run, but the snow was too high and he ended up more in a loping jog.
Someone shouted at him, but Brandon didn’t stop. It wasn’t long, though, before he heard the crush of snow under boots coming up fast behind him. He grabbed both straps of his pack and tried to increase his speed.
“Hey, stop!” one of the people pursuing him yelled.
There was something odd about the voice, something that triggered a memory. Brandon’s family’s house at Barker Flats. Josie sick in the bathroom, and his mother — though he didn’t know it at the time — dead in his parents’ bedroom. The paramedics who burst into the house had all been wearing protective clothing and hoods that enclosed their heads. When they talked, their voices sounded very much like the one yelling at him now. Muffled.
“Kid! We’re not going to hurt you!”
Someone grabbed Brandon’s backpack and jerked him to a stop. A hand gripped him by the shoulders and twisted him around. There were two men, both outfitted in dark green plastic-looking suits and hooded masks.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the one who’d turned him asked.
Brandon tried to pull away from him.
“Relax, buddy. We’re here to help you. Tell us your name.”
Brandon tried to shrug off the man’s grip, but he wasn’t strong enough. “Please, let me go!”
The man glanced back at his partner. “Saunders, a little help.”
Saunders took hold of Brandon’s other arm.
“You can walk or we carry you. Either way, you’re coming with us,” the first man said.
Brandon knew there was nothing he could do. Even if he were able to break free of their grasps, he wouldn’t get more than a few steps before they caught him again.
“I’ll walk,” he said.
He wondered where they were going to take him. Back to the Ranch? Was that where they were keeping the others? Or someplace else?
At least he’d be with his sister.
Unless something had happened to her.
Don’t even think that. Josie’s fine. They’re all fine. You’ll see them soon.
As they neared the helicopter, he noticed something he hadn’t seen earlier, something he knew wasn’t on the helicopters that had attacked the Ranch. Painted in black along the tail were the words UNITED STATES ARMY.
Josie paced the hallway right outside the alcove that served as the Bunker’s dining area, too worked up to sit for even a moment.
Chloe had tried to get her to eat something, but Josie had only shaken her head. How could she eat when her father — her only living parent — was in surgery, and her brother was lost in the wilderness? If either of them didn’t survive, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to eat again. So back and forth she went, her mind both numb and hyper-alert.
She heard the footsteps before she saw the three women turn down the hallway in front of her — Rachel Hamilton with the woman and the girl Chloe had brought back with the doctor.
As they neared her, Rachel stopped, her eyes full of compassion. “I take it there hasn’t been any news.”
Josie shook her head. “No.”
“I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.”
Josie nodded, but said nothing as she rocked from foot to foot.
“Have you met Emily and Kathy?” Rachel asked. “I believe you and Emily are the same age.”
“Hey,” Emily said, holding out her hand.
Josie hesitated a moment, then shook it. “Hey.”
“My dad’s a good doctor,” Emily said. “If your dad can be fixed, he’ll fix him.”
“He can be fixed,” Josie said quickly.
“I’m sure he can. I was just saying—”
“I know what you were saying.”
After an awkward couple of seconds, Rachel donned a smile, and said to Emily and Kathy, “Who’s hungry?”
Josie grimaced as the other three walked into the alcove. She shouldn’t have snapped. Emily was only trying to be nice. Josie’s father would not have been happy with her.
With a sigh, she turned and walked over to the table where the women had just sat down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was…well…”
Rachel touched Josie on the arm. “It’s okay. We all know you’re worried about your dad.” She patted the bench next to her. “I’m sure you could use something to eat. Why don’t you join us?”
“I’m fine.”
“At least have something to drink. Water?”
Josie had to admit she was thirsty, so she nodded and took the offered seat.
Raising her voice, Rachel said, “Bobbie?”
Bobbie, the Ranch’s cook, stuck her head out the kitchen door. “Morning, Rachel.”