He stuffs one more in his bag before shooting me a you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do look. I turn back to Isabel. “Look, we can’t leave you here alone,” I say. “We’re headed north. You can come with us.”
Behind me, Chris heaves a sigh.
“She’s a kid,” he mumbles.
“She’s coming with us,” I say, making it clear that I won’t take no for an answer. I’m not going to look back on my life a hundred years from now and have to remember that I left twelve year-old girl in the middle of an empty McDonald’s when the world ended.
“Seriously?” she says, looking surprised. “I can come with you?”
“Sure,” I smile. “You’ll be safe with us.”
“That’s debatable,” Chris remarks.
“Shut up, Chris,” I say.
Isabel suddenly jumps forward and hugs me around the waist. It takes me by surprise, since just a minute ago she was kicking Chris in the shins. Then again, I would be a little defensive, too, if I’d been hiding out in a dark kitchen for a week.
“Okay,” I say, squeezing her shoulders. “We should move. You up for this?”
“Totally!” she beams. “Where are you going?”
“The mountains,” I answer, not wanting to dump too much important information off on her. “It’s safe there.”
“That’s also debatable,” Chris says.
“Go away,” I say, shaking my head.
“Hey, I found these, too,” Isabel says, pulling open another drawer. There are some small water bottles inside. “Want some?”
I clap my hands together. “Water!” I exclaim. “Awesome. Good job, Isabel.”
We fit as many as we can into our packs. Isabel stuffs a few into a backpack she pulls from underneath the counter. It’s a pink with sparkly rhinestones all over the top. “Nice,” I comment.
“Thanks,” she replies. “It’s for school. I’m in sixth grade.”
“Wow.” We hop over the front counter, walking out of the McDonald’s. The fog isn’t as dense as it was during the early morning, but it’s still pretty cold. And wet. And depressing.
“I haven’t been outside since it happened,” Isabel remarks, skipping along beside me. “There were a lot of weird people hanging around for a few days.”
“What kind of weird people?” Chris asks.
“Like gangsters or something,” she replies, making a face. “They came inside the McDonald’s and stole all the money from the cash register. Then they left. I didn’t want to go outside because I thought they might still be there.”
“That was a good idea,” I say, sharing a concerned glance with Chris.
“Yeah, I know!” she kicks a rock down the road. “So where are we going again?”
“The mountains,” I repeat. “There won’t be any weirdos up there.”
“Cool. Do you have, like, a secret fortress or something?”
“Or something.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“When you need to know, I’ll explain it to you, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighs. “So are you like, in High School?”
“No. College.” I tilt my head. “Chris was a Navy Seal.”
“A Navy Seal?” she laughs. “What’s that?”
I raise my eyebrows at Chris. He shifts the rifles and the backpack before launching into a convincing explanation about the awesomeness of his former Seal team. Even I get into it, asking him if he’s ever pulled a James Bond and worn a tuxedo under his diving gear.
Unfortunately, he’s never tried that.
“You know,” Isabel says, “I had a foster mom once who was in the army.”
“Did you like her?” I ask.
“No. She yelled all the time.” Isabel sighs. “Do you have any parents?”
“Kind of.”
We walk to the freeway, going back to car counting and complaining about the weather. Only now we have a twelve year-old cutting into the conversation, talking almost non-stop about school and math and her less than attractive history teacher from Greece.
Mid-morning rolls around, leaving us all sleepy. Except for Isabel, who seems to have endless energy and a need to bring up talking points concerning why jellyfish are the most persecuted animals in the ocean. Apparently she’s a science geek.
“Hey,” I say, around ten o’clock. “What’s that?”
We slow down, spotting dark shapes in the distance.
“Probably just some more cars,” Isabel yawns.
“Maybe.”
Chris drops behind her and tosses me one of the rifles.
“I can’t shoot one of these!” I say.
“Just hold it to keep up appearances,” he replies. “Just in case.”
I don’t argue. Frankly, I’m too tired. Tromping along for miles and having to keep up a conversation with a tween is burning me out. As we get closer to the dark shapes all three of us just stop talking. Miracle of miracles, even Isabel stops yacking about the stupid endangered jellyfish.
There’s just something about the silence here that makes us all shut up. I keep a grip on the rifle, even though I have pretty much no idea how to use it. Chris does, though, so I let him walk out front. I’ll just be the moving target if something goes wrong.
Noble of me, I know.
“Guys,” Isabel hisses.
Startled by her voice, I jerk backwards a little bit, turning back to scowl at her. “Be quiet,” I say.
“Look!” she points.
I follow her finger, trying to see what she’s looking at in the fog. Only after a few seconds do I finally make out the shape of an upright vehicle. Then three, then four then five. All pointed South on a freeway where all the vehicles were headed North.
“Oh, my god,” I say. “It’s a roadblock.”
Half-visible figures get out of the vehicles. Car doors slam. Somebody yells something. I yell, “RUN!” to Isabel, and she doesn’t hesitate. She takes off into the fog and disappears before I can even remind her to stay close to me. Chris backs up a few steps and puts his hand on my arm.
“Catch up to her,” he breathes. “Go.”
We both break into a dead sprint as a bunch of footsteps become audible behind us. “STOP!” a man yells.
Yeah, sure. Like I’m going to do that.
Then, completely out of nowhere, somebody tackles Chris. He tumbles to the ground and rolls right back up to his feet, yelling at me not to stop. Just keep going! I hesitate and head back towards him, spotting the guy who tackled him. He’s wearing an Omega uniform. I stare at him and we lock eyes. I feel like a kitten that just got cornered by a Great Dane.
Somebody tackles me this time. I hit the road, hoping I don’t break something, and scramble to my feet. A guard with beady eyes and thick muscles hauls me backwards and locks his arms around my upper body. I kick against him, jamming my elbows into his stomach as hard as I can. He loosens just enough for me to wriggle away and kick him right into his mouth.
He falls backwards just as somebody else grabs me from behind. Mr. Beady Eyes climbs back up and wrestles me to the ground. Now I have two guys on top of me. I can’t even see or hear Chris because I’m so deep in my own troubles. I kick and scratch and bite and punch but it doesn’t do much good because I’m pinned. Totally, completely pinned.
“What’s this?” Beady Eyes says, ripping my backpack off. Probably dislocating my shoulder in the process. Thanks a lot. “Supplies? Where are you going?”