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She looked away, grabbed a toaster pastry from her MRE kit, and then started unwrapping it. “I had some bad times. I prefer not to talk about it.”

“Have you ever talked with
anyone
about it? Like a psychologist?” The second I said it, I realized it was a very presumptive question and I regretted it. “I mean, if I’d gone through what you’ve been through, I’d want to talk to a professional.”

She shrugged. “Only Wesley.”

“Not even your dad?”

She shook her head and broke off a piece of pastry. “I think what happened with Granger and then with Wesley yesterday has me really stressed out. I haven’t had nightmares in a couple of years. Sorry I woke you up.”

Iggy’s crisp tone was the opposite of the way she’d sounded last night when she’d confessed being scared. She constantly threw me off. I said, “I’m not sorry. I’m glad that you feel you can lean on me.”

She jumped up, walked over to the window, and yanked back the curtain. Then she picked at her pastry while staring outside with rigid posture. I must have offended her. Probably the best thing to do would be to leave her alone, but I hated feeling like the enemy because I’d touched on a sore subject. “Did I say something wrong, Iggy?” I got up to go stand beside her. “I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“It’s not you, Cael.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “You confuse me. I mean, one minute you seem like the old Iggy – tough, controlling. And then I see a different side of you that makes me feel – ”

“I’m the same as I was back then,” she interrupted.

“No you’re not. You’ve gotten more…complicated. I’m trying to figure you out.”

After a moment of silence, her shoulders slumped and she gave me a sardonic smile. “I’m not complicated, just moody. Stressed.” She held out her toaster pastry. “You want this? I don’t like it.”

I knew a deliberate change of subject when I heard one. I reached out, but instead of taking the pastry, I took her arm and pulled her close. She seemed surprised, but she didn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around her, and then I felt her arms slide around my waist. I said, “If you ever need a hug, I’ve got an endless supply to give. Make sure you take full advantage of my daytime hugs, because they’re just as good as the nighttime ones. Maybe even better.” She laughed and I felt the tension flow out of my body. When we stepped apart, she was blushing, but at least her eyes met mine.

We were eating breakfast when Cody emerged from the bathroom, letting in a cloud of steam. I took my shower next, while Iggy and Cody washed all our clothes in the motel’s coin machine. Afterwards, we repacked everything in an effort to condense our remaining supplies. And by the time we left, I felt our load was more manageable.

We drove through Sweetwater to see if we could buy any supplies or gas. The place was a ghost town; every store was either shut down or sold out of anything useful. Cody and I filled the minivan’s tank with two of the four spare containers of gasoline that we’d brought from Iggy’s farm, which meant we barely had enough gas to make it to Spring City and home. If we weren’t careful, it would be a long walk back. Fortunately, we still had nearly a dozen MREs left, so we didn’t have to worry about going hungry.

There were very few cars on the roads, and I didn’t have to worry about how fast I went. But the half hour trip was eerily quiet. It was as if a zombie apocalypse had struck, and we were the last few survivors. Though we discussed the zombie movies we’d seen and joked about it on the way, there was an undercurrent of tension. And it was a tension that grew when we still didn’t get cell phone reception and we realized the radio stations were looping pre-recorded shows.

I knew we were getting close when I saw the two upside-down ice cream cone towers of concrete that were the nuclear power plant. Once we reached the other side of the bridge, we saw an abandoned, concrete building that looked like it was originally built in Chernobyl during the seventies. The windows were busted, the weeds around it were a foot tall, and the roof was cracked and crumbling. Curse words and warnings in black spray paint covered most of the exterior walls. It was definitely creepy.

It wasn’t uncommon to see cars abandoned on the sides of roads because they’d run out of gas, but the next few miles of highway didn’t have any cars sitting on the shoulder. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to spot my dad’s blue Nissan Leaf on the opposite side. There was nothing on this stretch of the road but trees and fields; nothing to suggest why my parents would have chosen to travel through here. I slowed down and pulled off on the shoulder across from it, fear creeping up my spine. The windows were shattered and the hood had crumpled into a tree.

I cut the engine, and the three of us walked across to examine the vehicle as rain drizzled down. Bullet holes riddled the driver’s side and trunk, which was probably how the windows had been shattered. The front windshield had been broken and shoved out, and chunks of glass lay on the hood. Black skid marks led up to and away from the area, and I figured there were two cars involved in the incident. From the rear of the vehicle, Iggy said, “The trunk’s empty.” She shut it, but the latch didn’t work, and it remained partially open.

“I don’t see anything inside, either,” Cody added.

I opened the passenger door and looked around. “Except shell casings.” I curled my hands into fists. “Lots of them. Obviously there was a fight.” I crawled across the seats, looking for blood and praying I found none.

“Keep in mind that your parents may not have even been in the car when this went down,” Iggy reminded me. “The car could have been stolen.”

She was trying to make me feel better, but my gut instinct told me my parents
had
been in possession of the car during the shootout. As I climbed around inside though, I didn’t find any belongings; at least there was no blood, which offered some comfort. But knowing my parents had not died on the scene opened up endless possibilities without a clue of how to find answers. While I was relieved, I was also discouraged.

Iggy approached, tapping on her phone. “We can check the nearest hospitals. Talking to people in person might yield better results than over the phone. Before we headed up here, I saved the addresses of the ones that are within thirty miles of Spring City, so they’ll be easy to find.”

I inhaled deeply. “There’s no blood. Possibly no injuries requiring hospitalization. And even if there was, I doubt the people shooting at my parents were interested in taking them to a hospital afterwards.”

“Assuming your parents were the ones in the car,” she reminded again.

Cody said, “There are also plenty of shell casings on the back seat and floor as well as in front of the window. Either your parents climbed from the front to the back, and then back up front, or there were passengers in the back seat.”

I dragged my palm down my face and huffed, “I don’t know what to do. We don’t have the gas to run all over the place looking for them.” I looked at Iggy. “Which hospitals did your dad contact?”

“I just remember him saying he checked with the three closest hospitals, which are…” she tapped on her phone, “Dayton, Crossville, and Pikeville.” She handed me her phone, and I studied the map she’d saved. “As you can see, there are five hospitals within a thirty mile radius.”

I shook my head. “Let’s pick the closest two. We just don’t have the gas to go to all of them.” I massaged my temples. “And I should have thought to check for them in the Sweetwater hospital before we left.” That had been a careless oversight on my part.

We spent the next few hours visiting hospitals, showing my picture of my parents to staff, and arguing with people. Cody and Iggy were as pushy as I was in soliciting information, but we didn’t find them or learn anything new. I had resorted to jogging down hospital hallways and peeking into rooms because there was a chance that my parents had been brought in unconscious and without identification. And though I didn’t have any success, I felt confident I knew where mom and dad
weren’t.
And that was more information than I’d had before.

Finally, I told my friends we needed to head back to Sweetwater and check that hospital before giving up. I tried not to look bummed, but I could tell from Iggy’s frequent sympathetic glances than I hadn’t hidden my feelings very well.

Chapter 13

Cael

We piled back into the minivan, remaining silent for a long time as I drove. I knew Iggy’s mind was on her family, and I wanted to support her as much as she’d supported me. I said, “Now we need to start thinking about what we can do to get Wesley.” I turned onto highway twenty-seven, heading back the way we came.

“I’m just gonna walk right up to the CDC and demand to see him,” Iggy said. “And there is no
we.
It’s just gonna be me.”

“You really think they’ll listen to you?” Cody asked her.

Iggy sank back against her seat. “Probably not. I’ll just have to wing it when I get there.”

“Maybe you can threaten them. You know. Do whatever it is you do. Make them let him go.”

Iggy chuckled. “You make me sound like some kind of superhero who can rescue people. I’m not.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

She gave me a look of surprise. “I’m just not.”

Cody leaned forward. “I don’t know much, but it seems like you can do some pretty amazing things. Like a superhero.”

Iggy snapped, “I hurt some animals and people. I did some horrible things. I can defend myself and the people I care about. That’s about it. Nothing amazing or heroic. End of story.”

“Maybe you can fly,” Cody suggested, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

“Maybe
you
can,” Iggy said.

“I
can
,” Cody told her. “When I’m high.”

We laughed and talked for a while, trying to keep the mood as light as possible. When we were back on the final stretch of highway, Cody asked if we wanted to split an MRE. We said yes, and he doled out the portion sized packets and set the entrée to heating.

“How are we on gas?” Iggy asked while dipping a mini pretzel into cheese spread. She handed it to me and fixed herself one.

“Eighth of a tank. We should stop after we eat to put the rest of the gas in.”

When we neared the electrical transmission towers beside the deserted concrete Chernobyl building, an old, red pickup truck pulled out in front of us from a parking lot on the opposite side. It sped up quickly, but I’d been speeding, so I still had to tap the break to avoid running up on it.

“Jerks,” I grumbled.

“Hold out your hand,” Iggy ordered, and then she poured several dried fruit snacks onto my palm. I tossed the handful into my mouth and glanced over to tell her thank you.
“You’re welcome. Hey, you think we should try the radio again?”

“Might as well.”

She reached out to turn it on. The truck in front of us braked so sharply that its rear end fishtailed, and I had to slam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending it. Iggy pitched forward into the windshield and dashboard, her head hitting with a sickening thunk.

I threw the van into park, unbuckled, and reached for her.

“What the hell just happened?” Cody barked. Then he unbuckled and his head was up front.

“Iggy?” I helped her back onto the seat. Her eyes were open, but her forehead was cut and her nose was gushing blood.

“Hey, Cael. Those guys in the truck are coming back here,” Cody pointed, looking worried.

I opened the glove compartment, rooting around to find some napkins. Something to help stop the bleeding. “Iggy? Can you hear me?” Blood flowed over her lips and chin, soaking her sweater and then her pants as her head tipped forward. The gash on her forehead had also started to bleed jagged trails over her eyes, nose, and temple. “Answer me!” I tipped her head up. “Shit!” She looked like Carrie from the Stephen King novel. I turned to Cody. “Get me something to stop the bleeding!”

“Cael! Watch out!” he yelled at me, drawing his gun and pointing toward Iggy.

Before I could react, her door opened and hands hooked over her shoulders. Someone yanked open my door and shouted at me to get out. Cody turned and aimed at the guy behind me.

“Throw the gun onto the ground or we shoot the girl,” the guy threatened. To me, he shouted, “You! Out of the van!”

At first, I thought the CDC had caught up with Iggy again. But these four guys in plaid shirts, jeans, and baseball caps didn’t take off with her like Granger had. I carefully unfolded myself to stand in the doorway, keeping my hands up and my eyes on Iggy as one of the men dragged her around the hood. His arm was clamped around her waist, and though she was awake, her body was limp and she seemed dazed.

“What do you want?” I asked. Cody appeared beside me, also keeping his arms high in the air and moving slowly.

“What do think we want, genius? This is a robbery.”

The man holding Iggy backed up to other side of the road, putting too much space between us. One of the robbers went to the back of the minivan and opened the trunk. The one with his gun trained on Cody jumped back as Cody lowered one arm.