Dan had lost his grandfather, his home, his job, his old co-worker. And now he’d lost his knife and his pack. He had nothing and he felt that he was no one.
Before the EMP, if he’d been out in public and lost, he would have stopped an adult, probably a policeman, and explained the situation. He would have given his name and address, and the telephone number of his grandparents.
But now, there was no one to turn to.
Dan didn’t know who the men were who had cuffed him and shot Joey. But he knew for certain that they weren’t good guys.
But why hadn’t they just shot Dan?
What were they going to do with him?
He was still cuffed, his hands tightly bound with some kind of plastic cord. Probably zip ties.
He was riding in the back of a pickup truck with an open bed. He was seated cross-legged on the dirty metal bed. He hadn’t noticed the pickup on Dwight Street, but it must have been there all along.
A soldier rode in the bed with Dan.
There was one other prisoner here, a woman in her early thirties with long, dirty hair. She wore tight jeans that were torn.
Her hands and ankles were bound together with rope. Why hadn’t they used the same zip ties they’d used on Dan? Maybe someone else had captured her.
Dan was trying not to panic. He wasn’t dead like Joey. That was a good thing. If he could make some sense out of the situation, maybe he could figure out a way to escape.
His will to survive hadn’t been crushed. He knew he could still make it.
All he had to do was get out of the pickup.
They were driving about forty miles per hour. They’d long-since turned off Dwight Street, following the military-type truck that rumbled along.
They’d left the area that Dan knew well, and he no longer recognized the streets. But he could tell that they were leaving the spread-out part of the fairly well-to-do suburbs that Dan had grown up in. And they were entering a more urban area, where the buildings were closer together and hadn’t been kept up quiet as well as the suburban homes Dan was used to.
The area was mainly residential, with a mix of small convenience stores spread throughout.
Dan was still in pain. But he was doing his best to ignore it. He kept his breathing even in an attempt to keep his head clear enough from the pain that he’d be able to find and opportunity to escape.
They’d stopped once on Dwight Street, and the soldiers had sprayed bullets into a couple shops where they’d spotted someone.
The guard in the bed of the pickup had jumped down to join the other soldiers.
Dan had been in pain so much that he hadn’t been able to try to use the opportunity to his advantage.
He wasn’t going to let that happen again.
“Where are you taking me?” said Dan. He’d tried once before. He figured he’d give it another try.
The guard didn’t answer. He didn’t even turn to look at Dan.
But Dan knew that he was in the guard’s peripheral vision.
One false move, and Dan had no doubts that he’d be pumped full of bullets.
The truck was an old one, and the ride was bumpy. The guard didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them at all, instead choosing to gaze off into the sky with a somewhat blank expression on his face.
Along the way, as they got further from the area that Dan knew well, he noticed that the woman prisoner was sneaking glances at him.
At first, Dan didn’t think anything of it. Each time that he’d catch her eye, she’d look away.
But then he noticed that she seemed to be trying to tell him something with her eyes, all while not letting the guard catch onto what she was doing.
Before she’d look at him, she’d look pointedly down at a particular spot of the truck bed.
Dan looked down, where she’d been looking, and saw that there was a piece of the truck bed, that for whatever reason, was rough and unfinished. It was right near Dan, behind him, and the metal looked sharp enough to possibly cut through his zip ties.
He didn’t look back at the woman. He didn’t want to give the plan away by alerting the guard that something was up.
All Dan needed to do was get his hands to that spot and try to rub them against the sharp metal long enough, hoping that he could break through them.
But how could he do that without the guard noticing?
Maybe if they stopped again, he’d have a chance.
And then what?
Even if he could get free, he couldn’t leave the woman there. It wasn’t right. Especially if she was handing him the key to his escape.
It’d be risky.
Very risky.
But he had to try it.
He’d been convinced that they’d shoot him if he tried to escape. But maybe that wasn’t right. After all, he’d stabbed one of their men, and they still hadn’t murdered him. Maybe they wanted him alive for some strange reason.
Or maybe he was just trying to convince himself that it was a good idea to try to escape.
Well, he might die. But it’d surely be better than wherever they were taking him.
He had to try.
Ten minutes later, Dan had his chance.
The military truck ahead rumbled to stop, sitting idle with the engine still on. The pickup that Dan rode in slowed to a stop, too. A soldier got down from the truck and came around back to the pickup bed.
The soldier had two cans of beer with him. He handed one to Dan’s guard, and cracked open his own.
“Thanks,” said Dan’s guard, cracking his own open and taking a long, deep drink.
“Any trouble from them?” said the soldier.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
“So we’re going to get our reward right away, or is it the same garbage as last time, where we have to wait a week and then we get half of it?”
“Nope. Everything should be good.”
The guard nodded. “So what’s the deal? Why are we stopping here?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re almost there. Why are we stopping ten minutes away? I mean, don’t get me wrong, thanks for the beer and all, but couldn’t we have done this afterward, once we get the reward?”
Dan’s head was spinning. He didn’t know what any of this was about, but he had the idea that it was important to what was happening to him. If he could only figure it out, maybe he could use it to his advantage.
What kind of reward were they talking about? Money? That didn’t make sense. Money meant nothing now.
Maybe food? Weapons?
And who would pay for two people to be delivered somewhere?
Dan thought about trying to use the metal to saw away at his zip ties. But the soldiers weren’t engrossed enough in their conversation. They were still looking this way and that, and they’d see what Dan was up to, that he’d shifted positions.
“Well,” said the soldier. “There’s something I had to do first.”
“And what’s that?”
“You finished your beer yet?”
“Just about.”
The guard drained the last of the beer, crumpled the can in his hand, and tossed it to the road.
“I’m sorry about this,” said the soldier. “I wanted to give you one last beer.”
“One last beer? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know how it works. One less guy means more for everyone else.”
“One less?”
The soldier drew a handgun from a holster rapidly. He drew it. And fired.
The shot rang out.
The soldier remained standing there, arm straight, gun drawn.
The guard had a hole in his forehead and his body slumped over into the bed of the truck.
The woman prisoner let out a noise. Not quite a scream. More of a moan of fear.
Dan remained silent. He didn’t dare to move.
“Don’t worry, lady, no one’s going to shoot you,” said the soldier, finally reholstering his weapon.