“In the smoke breaks, I can see some intermittent meatball in marinara sauce,” Mrs. Rodriquez answered.
Oscar giggled.
Audra swallowed the bile in her throat. Whoever referred to the rat roadkill as food should be shot. Spaghetti and meatballs had been her favorite dish until they’d coined the reference. She doubted she’d want to eat it ever again. And her problem still wasn’t solved. They needed to know where the fire was.
“I think I see flames in my rearview mirror.” Jacqueline Silvestre’s voice drifted through the walkie. “Would someone please verify?”
Audra inhaled a slow breath. Despite everything they’d been through, her mother wouldn’t simply make a statement lest she offend a stranger. Not that she minced words with her daughter. Oh, no, Audra was issued commands every time they met or spoke. She should have stopped listening to her mother years ago. Heck, even ten hours ago would have been smart. Then she wouldn’t be in charge of this group. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and eased into the center lane. But as soon as she found the soldiers all that would be in the past.
“Good call, Jackie O,” Mrs. Rodriquez confirmed. “We’ve passed the fires.”
Audra smiled at the nickname. No one would have dared abbreviate Jacqueline Silvestre’s name back in Washington D.C. or compared her to a Democratic First Lady. The Silvestre lineage dated to the Founding Fathers and so did the family fortune. They bled Republican. Welcome to the new world, Mother.
“I think we should go another mile up to be safe, then exit,” Mrs. Rodriquez sang. “What say you, Princess A?”
Oscar grinned showing teeth he’d yet to grow into. “That’s you.”
“I know.” Audra winked at him and scanned the horizon. Unlike from some people, the title was practically an endearment when the older lady said it. Besides, the smoke did seem thinner.
“Exit?” Faye flapped her scrawny arms. “Why exit? We have all the fuel we need in the last bus. We can stop right here on the freeway. No need to get off.”
Audra ignored her. Advice was so easy to give when no one asked for it. Especially when everyone already knew it.
“What should I tell her?”
She slapped on the turn signal and made her way to the right hand lane. “Tell her we’re going to fill up.”
The buses followed her lead and swerved.
She shifted in her seat. Maybe she could empty her bladder and stretch a bit. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to refill from the barrels on her mother’s bus—the one carrying the last of their food and many of their belongings.
Plus a few corpses.
The corpses. She sucked on her bottom lip. What should she do with them? Leaving them on the side of the road seemed so callous, especially when rats prowled for a meal. But carrying them further was out of the question—they could be contagious. The scent of fecal matter drifted by. Her gut threatened to exit her mouth. And there was the matter of the slops pot. The five-gallon bucket they used as a potty needed to be emptied.
“Miz R, we’re pulling over,” Oscar shouted into the walkie.
The rest of her passengers scuttled to their seats. Three of them raised their hands.
She shook her head. Once a teacher… “Yes, Haley?”
An eight-year-old in a red jumper stood up, crossed legs and wedged a hand against her private parts. “Can we get out, Miss Silvestre? I have to pee.”
“Yes.” Ignoring the shoulder, she guided the bus up the ramp. They needed facilities, hopefully the kind with running water. “Grab your buddy and stay close to the parent assigned to watch you.” If they are still alive. “I don’t want anyone getting lost, you hear?”
Groans interspersed the ‘yes, Missus S’.
“Pit stop sounds delightful, Princess A,” Mrs. Rodriquez twittered through the walkie. “Mr. Know-It-All says we could try for the Burgers in a Basket. He says they were opened for a few days and will have laid in a supply of cooking oil we can use to conserve our biodiesel supply.”
Cooking oil for biodiesel? That didn’t sound right. Audra braked at the top of the ramp. But then what did she know? She taught English not science. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out.”
Cars jammed the intersection. Flies swarmed some—a sign that their occupants slowly rotted inside. The stench of death clung to the pervading smoke drifts. She glanced right then left. Two gas stations stood across the freeway. Would one of them have batteries to power their radio? Surely, there had to be news somewhere.
“I see one, Missus S.” Isaac jumped on the floor. “I see one.”
She followed the direction of his pointing. On the south side, along with a string of stores, sat a gas station and a Burgers in the Basket. Wood boarded up the windows of the gas station and only the eight remained of the eighteen-ninety-five price tag for a gallon of regular gas on the milky sign. Gang tags stained the stucco walls in bloody hues. At the restaurant, faded posters proclaimed the arrival of toys for the new movie Hatshepsut.
Grand reopening signs hung from the eaves of the grocery store and fluttered in the breeze. Empty carts scattered across the rutted parking lot. Here and there, tall weeds sprouted above closely cropped greenery. A narrow strip of asphalt had been cleared through the metal bottleneck, funneling them to the restaurant. The skin on her neck prickled. Please don’t let this be a trap. Please. Please.
Cranking the wheel hard, she eased onto the gas pedal. The front fender scraped black paint off the side of a BMW. Metal screeched as she pushed the car back against the median. Maybe she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of driving a bus. Hopefully, no one was around to hear.
As soon as the bus straightened out, she pulled the steering wheel in the other direction. An ache spread from her clenched jaw and tightened her scalp. Who was the idiot that designed such a tight turn? She jerked backward when the bus jumped the curb. Her hand shot out and her fingers curled into Oscar’s jacket, keeping him on his feet.
“Whoa!” His dirty nails dug into her arm.
“Why don’t you put the walkie back and sit down?” She rolled through the empty gas station bays.
With a shrug, he tucked it back into the jeans pocket on the dash then smoothed the fabric flat and fiddled with the tape. By the time he’d finished, the bus had coasted into the fast food joint’s parking lot.
Kids. She shook her head and shifted the bus into park. A check in the rearview mirror showed that Mr. Johnson hadn’t stirred in his seat.
Faye grabbed Oscar by the scruff of his neck and shoved him toward his seat, catching Audra’s eye. “He passed around four this morning.”
Fear banded her lungs. He’d been recovering yesterday. Well, the day before yesterday. Still, she couldn’t remember the Redaction killing so fast or folks seeming to recover then getting worse. She shook off the thoughts. She’d think about it later, when they were safe with the soldiers. “Do you want to check for strangers?”
Shaking her head, Faye glanced outside. “I’ll watch over the children.”
Great. Audra ran her fingers through the keys in the ignition. She had to go outside. With shaking fingers, she undid her seatbelt. The metal buckle clunked against the floor but she barely heard it over the pounding in her ears. Slowly, she turned in the seat. Her legs tingled from the change in position. “Get me the flashlight.”
“Why? It’s not dark outside.”
Really? Was the woman so dense or was she desperate to get behind the wheel? God, what if she took off, leaving Audra behind? She flexed her fingers. Faye wouldn’t take off without the supplies or fuel. “For protection from unfriendly strangers.”
Children lined up behind Faye—each doing a unique potty dance.