“Oh, gosh,” said Melanie. “My girls haven’t had anything to drink since we left. I think we better stop. I don’t know when we’ll see more water.”
“Good luck,” said Seth as they drifted away.
“We can’t afford to pick up stragglers,” Blaise growled. “I didn’t think I needed to explain that.”
“You don’t,” said Seth. “Just keep walking.”
They continued northward for a while, picking their way through individual stalled cars and the occasional traffic pileup. Larry wondered how long it would be before someone moved the cars out of the way. He wondered if anyone ever would.
By now the sun was directly overhead, and the bald patch on his head felt ready to ignite. Each time they walked past a water hole or creek, more of the crowd peeled away to hydrate. Twice Larry saw women, both elderly, collapse to the ground. He didn’t feel sorry for them. Frail old people had nothing to offer this new world.
423 ended at the intersection of another road, U.S. Highway 380, and walkers were scattering both east and west. Others were sitting or standing or lying on their backs in the fields of tall grass beyond the road surface.
Larry heard snatches of conversation like:
“… never going to find enough game with this many people. Every family has a gun.”
“I wish the Army was here to get things under control. This shouldn’t happen in America.”
“Don’t wait for the government to save you. Save yourself.”
Most of the walkers ended up going west. Some of those resting in the field looked like they might not get up. Larry wondered why more of them didn’t notice Skylar. How could anyone miss her? Even beaten by the heat, she shined brighter than the midday sun. He wanted to run into the field with her while daylight glinted off grass as high as their hips, butterflies floating on thermals, Larry’s convective love for Skylar ascending to the upper reaches of her heart. If he could somehow prove what a perfect match they were, Skylar would have no choice but love him.
“We’re headed that way,” Blaise finally said, pointing east.
Someone ahead of them mentioned the Dallas North Tollway. As if road names mattered anymore.
“Blaise?” said Seth. “Are you okay?”
Until then Larry hadn’t noticed, but when he looked more closely he realized Blaise was walking slower than before and touching the side of his rib cage.
“Yeah,” growled Blaise. “I’m fine. You focus on you and I’ll focus on me.”
“Sure, man. I just wanted to check.”
Blaise grunted and trudged on. But the farther they walked, the worse he looked, and Larry began to wonder if he was going to make it. Thirty miles was a long way. And if Blaise gave up, perhaps Larry could assume a leadership role. Maybe that’s what it would take to earn the reward of Skylar’s favor. Maybe his role in this production would finally be given the screen time it deserved.
He grinned like a madman. He put his hands on his ears. He thought he might scream.
Based on the sun looming almost directly overhead, Seth guessed they had been walking only a couple of hours. But the way he was wilting under the sun made it seem like days. Ever since they left Blaise’s house, he had leveraged all his energy to project confidence and courage, and this expenditure had nearly broken him. His left side hurt as if someone had punched him there, and the sweat on his skin smelled like pure whiskey. His was the worst kind of sickness: the self-inflicted variety. He deserved every minute of this misery. He had earned it.
By now Seth realized his marriage was truly over. That much had been obvious when he helped the woman in the crowd and Natalie rubbed her head as if embarrassed for him. The only thing that stopped him from following Melanie off the road was his fierce love for Ben and Brandon. The more his boys suffered, the worse his own pain became. He would see them safely to the warehouse, even if it meant his own life. After they were safe Seth would move on. Release them from his failure.
They were headed east now on U.S. 380, where wider pavement and fewer walkers made private conversations possible. To relieve his despair, Seth asked Blaise about the warehouse and his friends staged there.
“The guy with the radio is Tim. He’s from Michigan and knew the Fall was coming same as I did… that’s why he moved to Melissa in the first place. He’s joined forces with these two other men who live down the street, typical Texas cowboys who hunt and fish and dream of whichever pickup they want to buy next. Couple of days ago the three of them scouted the warehouse and found a crowd of people camped in front of it, as well as the guards, who they suspect are former employees. A couple of the guards are carrying military rifles. They won’t let anyone past the fence.”
“If we have to fight our way in,” Natalie said, “how is that better than going hungry?”
“It probably won’t come to that,” said Blaise. “If they was hungry enough, a crowd that size could easily take the building. Which I’m sure the guards understand. The idea for us is to show up with heavy weapons and negotiate a truce.”
“What if they refuse?” asked Thomas.
“Then you have to ask yourself how bad you want to survive.”
Seth looked down at Ben and Brandon. Their features were slack, their eyes vacant. His heart felt like it might break in two. The heat was like a giant hand that threatened to squash them into the road like bugs.
“Anyway,” said Blaise. “Let’s sit down for a minute if you guys don’t mind. I’m getting pretty hot.”
After all the tough talk, it seemed impossible Blaise would be the one who faltered first. But something was clearly wrong with the guy. His gait had slowed and he was listing to one side. He held his rib cage as if someone had punched him.
“Blaise,” Seth said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just need a little break. Let’s have some of that water, why don’t we?”
They all sat down for a moment, slurping hot water from a gallon jug, while refugees walked by looking at them. Seth wondered why Larry, who seemed to be friends with Blaise, wasn’t more concerned.
“You sure you’re okay?” asked Seth.
“Maybe I had too much bacon. I wasn’t ready for this heat.”
Seth didn’t see how this could be the explanation. He looked at the others, hoping someone else would speak up, but it was clear the heat had compromised them all. What would they do if Blaise couldn’t go on? Leave him behind? Would Tim and the other men help them if their partner didn’t show up?
A little while later they were headed east again, but progress was a lot slower than before. Crops grew on both sides of the road, but Seth, not being agricultural, had no idea what they were. In any case they didn’t look ready to harvest, but refugees were inspecting them for edible food, anyway.
Eventually they walked past a sign that announced the tollway intersection. Ahead, Seth could see a mass of humanity, thousands of people, shuffling northward. Some of them turned to walk this way but most didn’t.
“As we approach the tollway,” Blaise grunted, “keep your weapons handy. Like visible. Best way to ward off unwanted attention.”
The number of people streaming toward them continued to increase. Men carried hunting rifles or sidearms or long, sheathed knives. Frightened fathers shepherded wives and children, who sometimes carried babies wrapped in blankets or pushed strollers inside which pallid, frightened faces shrunk from the sounds of footfalls and conversation. Fierce young couples, hollow-eyed older couples. A single heavyset woman who took slow, struggling steps.
At the tollway intersection, the mass of humanity became overwhelmingly dense. Seth didn’t see how they were going to cross through it. But soon they found a gap big enough to squeeze into, and he directed the boys to fall in line behind him. Natalie followed. Eventually Seth could see the tollway was divided by a wide grass median. The northbound walkers were split into two streams, and between them, groups of people had set up camp in the grass. A few of these groups were huddled around narrow columns of white smoke. Some people looked up as they walked by. Most didn’t.