There wasn’t any gas in the store. So Max moved out, heading into the center of the town. He stayed off the main street, walking in the alleys behind the few stores that existed. When the alley didn’t connect from one store to the other, Max had to climb over chain-link fencing.
Max found himself behind a small post office that sat on the main intersection of the town. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
There weren’t any cars either.
There was a faint sound coming from down the cross street, though. Max couldn’t tell what it was, but if he had to guess, it sounded like the dull roar of a crowd of people. That would be strange, given that the town seemed abandoned.
There wasn’t a gas station in sight. But Max wasn’t going to give up. There’d be side streets that had normal homes on them. There was bound to be a car somewhere.
Of course, he’d have to look through the sheds for a container. All he had with him was the hose. The containers they’d had had been shot through with bullets, and Max hadn’t been able to patch them up with the materials they’d had available.
Max turned down the cross street. The street sign bore the name “Duncan Boulevard,” but it wasn’t like any boulevard he’d seen. It was just a little meandering street, with small houses lining it.
As Max walked, the sound got louder and louder.
It became apparent soon enough that there was a crowd of people. Somewhere close.
Crowds of people meant bad news. They meant danger, chaos, and the potential for violence.
But if Max didn’t continue towards the source of the noise, he’d be giving up. In the other direction, there weren’t houses lining the road. That meant no chance to find any gas.
If there was a crowd up there, it likely meant that the occupants of the houses weren’t inside. Meaning Max had an opportunity to go snooping for gas in their sheds.
It was risky. But it was the best option.
Max moved through the backyards. The first house had no car in the driveway and no shed.
Max hated doing this. He hated being a thief, sneaking around. But he thought of Georgia, Mandy, and the kids. He was doing it for them. And himself.
If he could find a working car, maybe it’d be better to just steal it and drive it back. It meant getting back to his friends faster, and moving them to a safer location. It also meant more gas, because if Max only brought a couple gallons back to the campsite, they wouldn’t be able to get very far in the Bronco.
The third house had a shed, but there was nothing inside but old rusty rakes and shovels. Max moved from house to house as quickly as he could, checking each shed and driveway. He had his Glock out the entire time.
By the time Max had checked about ten houses, he was still empty handed. But now he could hear the full roar of the crowd up ahead.
He needed to see what was going on. He moved to the front yard of one of the houses, staying out of sight as best he could.
Down the road a little ways, a crowd of a few hundred people had gathered. Some were shouting, and many stood watching silently.
There was a clearing off to the side of the road, where the central portion of the crowd was, but there were so many people that they’d spilled into the road.
In the center of the clearing there was a rudimentary wooden gallows. A crude structure of wood, elevated so that Max could easily see it despite how dense the crowd was.
Four men, unshaven, stood on an elevated wooden platform.
The fifth, a man with a long beard, had the noose around his neck. His feet were still on the wooden crate that supported them.
The crowd was cheering, jeering, and booing. The message was clear. They wanted the man hanged as soon as possible.
2
Mandy shivered in the cold early morning air. The sun had risen, and the fire from the night before was nothing but smoldering ashes. They’d split the night into two shifts, and Mandy had taken the last one. But she’d barely slept when it was her turn to sleep, and her body felt heavy and weak with fatigue.
They weren’t getting enough food. Most of what they did have was going to Georgia so she could recover. The lack of food wasn’t helping Mandy’s fatigue, or the headache she was developing.
It had been three days since Max had left. Mandy had watched him as he walked away, his limp diminished but still obvious. That image was burned into Mandy’s memory, and she wondered if she’d ever see him again.
What would they do without Max? Would they be able to survive?
They’d have to just keep going. That’d always been Max’s advice anyway, to keep pushing on, no matter how bad things seemed.
The Ford Bronco sat there, sunlight glinting off its dented chrome pieces and its mirrors. Mandy had grown to hate the sight of it. Aside from providing what was certainly uncomfortable shelter for Georgia, it was mostly useless. Until they got some gas, that was.
Since Max had left, only a single car had driven down the road. The road was out of sight, and they’d only heard it, speeding along, the engine roaring. They’d all waited, holding their breath, clutching the guns that had ammo. But nothing had happened. The car just kept driving.
They hadn’t seen anyone else. Wherever they were, they were out of the way. Significantly out of the way.
That was a good thing. The bad thing was they didn’t have any idea where they were.
Mandy had been poring over the maps ever since they’d gotten there. She was pretty good with maps, but there wasn’t much to go on in terms of their surroundings. There weren’t any markers on the nearby road. And they’d all been in such a panic fleeing the compound that they hadn’t paid any attention to where they were going. Mandy had been driving in a panic, Max had been removing the bullet from Georgia’s back, and Georgia herself was certainly in no condition to pay attention to road signs.
But even though she had a good reason to not know where she was, Mandy still cursed herself for her own short-sightedness. If only she could remember some landmark or road sign, she might have been able to find their position on the map. But no matter how many times she tried to replay the memories in her head, nothing came to her.
When Max got back, he’d be able to tell them where they were. Hopefully. That was if he got back, though.
Mandy sighed.
James and Sadie were asleep near what had become the campfire “pit.” They were unmoving forms, covered by all the clothing and fabric they had available.
One of them stirred, and a head popped up from underneath an old sweatshirt that was used as a blanket.
It was James, with his hair all wild. It’d grown longer since the EMP. It wasn’t like they’d had time for haircuts.
Or shaving. James was still a teenager, and he couldn’t really grow a full beard. But he had plenty of growth on his face, making him look older than when Mandy had first met him.
“Everything OK?” muttered James, sleepily, as he walked over to where Mandy stood at the edge of the camp area.
“Yeah, still no sign of anyone.” It was understood that this meant that Max hadn’t returned as well. “Your mom’s doing fine. I checked on her half an hour ago. She was asleep.”
“I don’t think she’s been sleeping that well, so that’s good.”
“Yeah, she was up a few times in the night. The cold’s hard on her.”
“At least she’s in the Bronco, I guess.”
“Doesn’t do that much, though.”
James nodded. “So what’s the plan for today?”