“I know! It’s just… I haven’t been rationing like you told us to.”
Mike dropped his pack to the ground and pulled out a can of peaches. He handed it to Tom.
“I only have one of those left, so that has to last you until tonight. We should be at the cabin by then,” Mike said.
“Thanks.”
The road was taking its toll on everyone, especially the kids. Sean had been such a good sport the entire time, but he was starting to wear down. Nelson could see it on his face.
“Dad?” Sean asked.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“How much longer do we have to go?”
“We’re almost there. Just a little while longer.”
The lump on the side of Nelson’s face had gone down. The headaches were also starting to subside. He hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone, but he was still having nightmares from when they were mugged on their first day out.
He was so embarrassed about what happened. If Mike hadn’t been there then he could have died. Sean could have been hurt, kidnapped, or killed.
He was also struggling with what he’d done back in the neighborhood when Mike’s house was burning down. Nelson tried to justify it in his mind that if he hadn’t killed Ted, then Mike would have been the one to die. The justification of killing was never a choice he thought he’d have to make.
“Hey, Dad?” Sean asked.
“Yeah?”
“How long do you think it’ll take mom to catch up with us once she gets home?”
That was a topic Nelson had evaded desperately. He hadn’t spoke about his wife with Sean since they’d left. He knew it was going to be hard for Sean to understand that they wouldn’t see her again, and he didn’t want to see his son suffer anymore.
“I don’t know, bud,” Nelson said.
“I just hope we left her enough food to make it. I know that we don’t have much left and I think we took more than we left for her.”
“Well, you know mom could never finish her meals anyway. We always had to help her with desert, remember?”
“That’s true.”
Sean stayed quiet a moment before he spoke up again.
“Is mom dead?” Sean asked.
“What? Why would you say that?” Nelson asked.
“I don’t know. We don’t talk about her and I thought she’d be here by now. I keep thinking that any minute she’s going to appear behind us on the road, shouting our names, and we’ll see her running to catch up with us, but every time I turn around to check nobody’s there.”
Nelson could feel his legs growing weak. He knelt down in front of his son. He smoothed Sean’s wavy blonde hair. He had his mother’s nose and her eyes. When he looked into his son’s face he could see her as clear as day.
“Well, then let’s talk about her more, okay? That way we can remember all the good stuff,” Nelson answered.
“Okay.”
“Do you remember her favorite ice cream?”
“Mint chocolate chip.”
“That’s right. And do you remember what she did when you were in the school play last year as Peter Pan and you lost your costume the day before opening night?”
“She made me a new one,” Sean said smiling.
As they walked Nelson continued to talk about his wife with his son. Its purpose had been to make Sean feel better, but the more they spoke about her, the lighter the burden of remembering her felt.
“She made the best macaroni and cheese,” Sean added.
“Do you remember when you were in first grade and mom wasn’t feeling well and you tried to cook some of the spaghetti art you made for her?”
“Yeah, I remember you finding me and asking me what I was doing and then we had to throw away all of the spaghetti art in the house because I got mad at you for not letting me cook for her.”
“I actually don’t think I’d mind having some of that spaghetti art right about now.”
“Me either.”
Sean giggled and Nelson threw his arm around his son. He turned around and saw Mike making his way toward them with Tom in tow.
“Looks like Tom and Fay sorted out whatever was wrong,” Nelson said.
Mike pulled Nelson aside. He kept his voice low so nobody within earshot could hear.
“Everyone’s running low on food. Watch yourself,” Mike said.
Nelson watched Mike head to the front of the group, but saw him slow down once he made it. The whole group stopped, but nobody understood why. Nelson squinted in the distance to see what Mike was looking at, but it was too far to see. It wasn’t until the gunshots rang out that he realized what Mike was looking at.
“Jenna!” Jung yelled.
He rushed over to her. Claire and Jung Jr. were both crying. Jung Jr. had his mother’s blood on his face, shirt, and hands. He stared down her, lying on the ground with a hole in her shoulder, oozing blood.
Everyone hit the ground once the gunshots were fired. Mike had waited for more shots to ring out, but nothing came. He looked through the sight of his rifle, trying to locate the source of the shot. He scanned the roadside, along the trees, around the abandoned cars, but he couldn’t see anyone.
He could only hear the screams coming from Jung who was hunched over his wife, keeping pressure on the wound.
“Jung! Get your family off the road and into the trees. Tom, help Jung carry Jenna,” Mike said.
Tom rushed over and hoisted Jenna up, lifting under her armpits. Mike looked up at Fay who was also flat on her belly looking through her scope, scanning to see where the gunfire had come from.
“Anything, Fay?” Mike asked.
Her right eye was squinted shut, while the other peered through the scope and her mouth hung open trying to locate the shooter.
“Not yet.” She continued looking. “Wait, I think I have something. Red sedan about one hundred yards out,” Fay said.
Mike swung his rifle to the sedan. She was right. Mike could see the top half of a head through the shattered back windows.
“Do you have a shot?” Mike asked.
“No.”
“Keep an eye on him until we get Jenna over to the trees.”
The tree line was thirty yards from the highway. Mike watched Jung and Tom carry Jenna through the open field of grass. He glanced back into his sight, relocating the shooter, whose rifle was positioned on the trunk of the car, pointed in the direction where Jenna was being taken.
Mike exhaled. He lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger on his rifle. The opposing shooter ducked back behind the vehicle. Mike’s eye searched the rest of the car. He went up and down trying to see if he could get another clean shot off, but found none. He looked back over and saw that the group had made it safely to the tree line.
“Fay, head for the forest. I’ll cover you. When you get in position keep an eye on the shooter for my run over, got it?” Mike asked.
“Okay,” she answered.
Mike stared down the road at the sedan. He could hear Fay’s footsteps hit the pavement and then disappear onto the grass. He felt the gravel of the road digging through his shirt into his stomach. His elbows rested on the hard asphalt, causing pain to shoot up through his arms. He waited a few more seconds before he looked over and saw Fay in the tree line with her rifle pointed toward the sedan.
Mike pushed himself off the pavement and sprinted toward the forest to meet with the rest of the group. His feet were heavy and slow. After days of walking with little to no sleep his body wasn’t holding together very well.
When he made it to the forest he smacked against a tree trunk for support. He could feel the sharp pain in his lungs with each breath. He tried to gain his composure, but he was feeling light headed.
Jung gripped Mike’s shoulder. Jenna’s blood covered Jung’s hands.