Escape (17 page)

“Where are you headed?” he asked them.

The man and woman exchanged a worried glance, then pointed west, the way Dan and Quinn had come from.

“We’re trying to reach our son,” the woman said, blinking back tears.

The man reached over and took the woman’s hand, squeezing it tight.

“We’ve been on the road for days. Our son lives in Phoenix, and we’ve been doing our best to reach him.”

“We’re from Oklahoma,” the man explained. “At first we stayed put and watched the news, but after a while we couldn’t take it anymore. We haven’t heard from Isaac in over a week, and we needed to do something.”

Dan nodded, feeling a wave of sympathy. He glanced back at his daughter, once again grateful that they were together.

“Where are you from?” the man asked.

“St. Matthews,” Dan said, pointing behind him. “A little town over the mountains.”

“How are things there?”

“Not good.”

The man looked at his wife again, then cleared his throat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo of a young man in his twenties with short dark hair.

“I know this is a long shot, but have you seen my son?”

The couple paused, both of them biting their lips in anticipation. Dan’s eyes wandered to the interstate behind them, where a pair of bodies lined the road.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t,” he said.

The man and woman exhaled and pulled each other close. In this world of carnage, sometimes the best news was no news at all. The man let go of his wife’s hand and pointed back at the van.

“Are either of you hungry?”

Dan furrowed his brow. In the last few hours, he and his daughter had already consumed the last bit of food that had been left in the station wagon. Even though he didn’t feel like eating, his stomach felt hollow and empty, and he imagined his daughter probably felt the same way.

“Yes, but—“

“The food we have is safe,” the man said. “It’s wrapped up in red packages. You don’t have to worry.”

“We stole it from the men in white coats,” the woman explained.

For the first time all day, Dan felt a surge of hope. He motioned for his daughter to join him, and when she exited the vehicle, the two of them followed the couple back to the van.

21

“M
y name’s Roberta Smith,” the woman said. “And this is my husband Ken.”

The woman sat cross-legged in the back of the van, and she smiled at Dan and Quinn with warmth they hadn’t seen in a while. The man was digging through a backpack he had stashed there, and he pulled out several packages of dried fruits and passed them out to the group.

“When I saw you two driving up the road, I hid all our things,” the man explained.

He stuck out a grimy hand and Dan took it. Dan introduced him and his daughter.

“I’m Dan, and this is my daughter Quinn.”

“Quinn! What a pretty name!” Roberta said.

The little girl blushed as she dug into her apple slices. Dan surveyed the back of the van. At one time it’d contained several rows of seats, but it appeared they’d been removed. A sleeping bag lined the floor, and several items of clothes had been scattered across the interior.

“Is this your vehicle?” Dan asked.

“No, we found it here. We’ve mostly been traveling on foot. We lost our vehicle back in Texas when we got a flat tire. Within minutes we were swarmed by the infected, and we barely made it out alive. Since then we’ve been camping out during the day and making our progress at night.”

“It’s been dangerous with those men in white coats out there,” Roberta added. “We came across one of their vans when they weren’t around. That’s how we got this food.”

Ken held up the backpack he’d been rifling through.

“It didn’t take us long to figure out what was going on. We’re pretty sure the infection is spread through the food and water supply.”

Dan nodded, surprised at their astuteness. While he ate his food, he ran through the events in St. Matthews: the start of the infection, their run-ins with the agents, and their escape from town. He did his best to narrate the story without rehashing the violence, and he left out the part about Julie. Quinn had been through enough. The last thing he wanted to do was reopen the wound.

While he was talking, the Smiths shook their heads in disbelief. From the sounds of it, they’d left Oklahoma before things got bad; most of the troubles they’d encountered had been on the road.

“I just hope we find Isaac soon.” Roberta lowered her eyes.

“We’ll find him, honey,” Ken said. “No matter how long it takes.”

The couple held hands again. In spite of what was happening, it was obvious they’d drawn strength from each other, and Dan couldn’t help but think of his own wife. What would it have been like if they’d survived together? He could only imagine that Julie would be as strong as Roberta. He felt a pang of sorrow, and he did his best to swallow it with the last of his fruit.

Ken finished his meal and wandered to the front of the vehicle. Dan watched as the man pressed the binoculars to his eyes, rotating the lenses back and forth over the ruined road.

“I haven’t seen any of the infected in a while,” Ken said. “It’s probably been a day since we ran into one of them.”

“I wonder if they’re dying out,” Dan suggested. “Maybe the infection is running its course.”

“We can only hope.”

The two exchanged a wry smile.

“So where are you headed?” Ken asked.

“We’re headed to Oklahoma to find my sister-in-law. She lives in Settler’s Creek, just over the Texas border. We’re hoping nothing’s hit there yet.”

“Well, everything seemed OK when we left. But we’ve run into a few people on the road since, and it sounds like it’s spreading.”

Dan swallowed the lump in his throat. Ever since leaving the salvage yard, he’d clung steadfast to the goal of reaching Meredith, hoping to find safe haven. If the virus had truly spread into Oklahoma—and more specifically, Settler’s Creek—then their travels would be for naught.

Sensing his anxiety, Ken put a hand on his shoulder.

“Everything will work out, Dan. Have faith.”

The older man had put down his binoculars and smiled. Despite his tattered clothes and dirt-stained face, his eyes radiated a sense of hope. Dan did his best to smile back.

“We should probably get going soon. We’ve troubled you folks enough.”

“Nonsense. You’re not leaving until we give you some food for the road.”

Dan wrinkled his brow. “There’s no way I could take anything from you.”

“I insist. You have a daughter to feed, Dan, and the last thing I’d want is for the two of you to starve.”

Ken walked past Dan and to the back of the van. He picked up his backpack and tossed it to his wife. She picked it up without hesitation.

“Roberta, would you mind packing up some food for these folks? I’m going to keep my eyes peeled out front.”

“Sure thing.”

Ken gave her a loving smile before returning to his post.

The older woman sifted through the contents of the bag, pulling out several tightly wrapped packages and placing them on the floor. On the floor behind her was another backpack. She dumped out the contents and began to fill it with the things she’d sorted for Dan and Quinn.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s the least we can do. You’ve given us a lot of insight on what’s in store for us on the road ahead, and for that we are grateful. Anything that helps us to find Isaac is a huge help.”

When the woman was finished, she handed the packed bag to Quinn. The little girl hefted it in her hands and gave her a smile.

“Are we leaving, Daddy?”

“Yes, we should really get going.”

Dan patted his pocket, ensuring he had his keys, and then looked toward one of the side windows. He peeked around one of the drawn shades, spotting the station wagon in the distance. Everything looked as it did before.

No sooner had he let down the shade than Ken’s voice rang from the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t leave just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s trouble headed our way.”

Even before he took sight of it, Dan could hear the rumble of a vehicle in the desert. The noise was loud and undeniable, and it made his heart hammer in his chest. For the past half an hour, he’d been given a subtle reprieve from the dangers of the road, but now his survival instincts were knocking louder than ever.

“Stay down!” he hissed to Quinn and Roberta.

The two huddled behind the passenger’s seat, their eyes roaming the vehicle. Ken had stooped below the dashboard. Dan crawled up to meet him.

“Who is it?” he whispered.

Ken looked over at him. The shine in his eyes had long since faded; in its place was an expression of worry.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s the agents, and it certainly isn’t the creatures. Whoever it is doesn’t look friendly.”

Dan had already withdrawn his weapon. He snuck a glance over the dashboard, keeping his head as low as possible.

The vehicle was approaching from the west. By the shape and size, he was unable to get a read on the make and model.

“Can I borrow the binoculars?”

Ken handed them to him and he held the lenses to his face. With the vehicle magnified, he was able to make out more of the structure. It appeared to be an SUV—similar to the ones used by the agents—but the sides had been reinforced with metal brackets, and knives and pieces of sharp metal had been attached to the exterior. The hood had been spray-painted with graffiti.

Hanging out the windows were several men in dirt-stained fatigues. They whooped into the air as the vehicle advanced, their eyes roving the littered highway.

At present they were about a half-mile away, but soon they’d be upon the station wagon that Dan had left parked in the desert. He grimaced and shook his head. Although he wasn’t certain who they were, it was clear that they were up to no good.

He’d seen their type before, but usually on the other end of a pair of handcuffs.

He looked over at the man next to him.

“Ken, I need you to go in back with the girls.”

The man took his instruction without argument, clambering into the back of the van. Dan inched backward, positioning himself behind the passenger’s seat, and kept his gun at chest level. If they were lucky, the men in fatigues would pass by without detecting them.

At the same time, he knew better than to expect it.

The roar of the engine grew louder, as did the cries. In another situation, the men might have been a group of friends on a road trip, a circle of comrades out for a night on the town.

Not now.

Dan watched them with growing dread. If they were to be discovered, they’d be outmatched. By the looks of it, there were four men in the vehicle, and not one of them appeared friendly.

He cast a quick look behind him. The others were huddled on the floor. The mini-van contained several windows, but all of them had curtains and shades, and all of them were covered. He noticed the sleeping bag and clothes on the floor, and he motioned toward them.

“Hide underneath,” he hissed to his companions.

The three people behind him scurried underneath the belongings. Even with the garments over them, they were hardly concealed—anyone who happened upon them would surely inspect the van further.

He turned his attention back out the front window. The SUV had stopped beside a pickup truck. The two men in back jumped out, jeering into the air. He saw that they carried assault rifles in their hands. Both had unkempt beards and baseball caps; one of them was wearing a stained white jacket rather than fatigues.

Although they didn’t appear to be agents, they carried both the armament and the clothing of those responsible for the infection. Apparently these men had overpowered some of the agents; by the looks of it, they’d taken their vehicle and their gear.

The two men approached the pickup and tore open the doors. A dead body spilled out from inside and onto the highway, collapsing in a pile of limbs. The man in the white jacket—the pseudo agent—fired at the corpse with his rifle, his laughter spilling into the air. The other man hopped into the driver’s seat and threw a handful of loose objects out the side, scattering coins, papers, and clothing across the pavement.

Apparently finding nothing of interest, the men moved on to the bed of the truck. They peered into the cab, dragging the tips of their rifles along the edge.

There were three vehicles in between the pickup and the minivan—a Jeep, a sedan, and a sports car. Before long, the men would reach the vehicle Dan and his companions were hiding in and they’d be exposed. He watched in silence, mind racing.

He had six bullets in the gun he was holding. In order to use it, he’d need to get a drop on the men outside. If he started a firefight from within the vehicle, Ken, Roberta, and Quinn were likely to get hit in the crossfire.

He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Outside, the two men on foot had moved on to the Jeep. The one in fatigues busted out the window with the end of his rifle and stared inside. The sound of glass shattering sent a ripple of fear through Dan’s body.