“All that stuff’s good in case we need to MacGyver something.” Stella peered over the seat at the open bag. “Any more ammunition in there?”
“I don’t see any.”
“I really don’t like that the gun is loaded. I–I’m just not comfortable with violence,” said Karen after she drained the water bottle.
“Karen, someone bombed America. Comfortable or not, it looks like we’re in the middle of violence,” Stella said
“We don’t know what happened!” Karen snapped back at her.
“No, we don’t,” Mercury said. “But, like my dad says, let’s prepare for the worst and hope for the best.” Those few words, like my dad says, left Mercury’s mouth, and with them her memory easily replayed her father’s gruff, loving voice—and her knees went rubbery. Mercury grabbed the open passenger door and pressed her forehead against its faded blue metal. She blinked hard, over and over, as she tried to stop her panicked panting.
Dad! Is he okay?Mercury had always been a daddy’s girl—from day one—but she was also close to her mom, who—Oh God! Mom! And my brothers—their wives and kids! They have to be alive. They have to be alive. Please, oh please, they have to be alive!
Stella’s hand on her shoulder pulled her from the quicksand that was sucking her into panic.
“Hey, you’re okay. We’re okay,” Mercury turned her head to meet Stella’s gaze as she continued softly. “Tulsa might not have been hit. This could just be a West Coast thing.”
“Tulsa…” Jenny whispered the word like a prayer.
“My husband. Our sons.” Mrs. Gay’s fingers found the hem of her cardigan again, and she picked relentlessly at the threads she’d already loosened.
Mercury wiped her cheeks before she straightened. “We can’t know for sure what’s going on back home—at least not yet we can’t. So, let’s get to some shelter, whether that’s Timberline or Government Camp, and see if we can find out what the hell has happened.”
“Hey, has anyone checked their phones for service?” Jenny asked.
“Mine’s in my purse—back there.” Stella motioned to the truck bed.
“I—I don’t know where mine is,” said Mrs. Gay.
“Well, shit. I totally forgot mine is in my pocket.” Mercury reached into the front pocket of her jeans and retrieved her cell phone.
“Mine’s here!” Jenny lifted it out of the backpack and held it up like a trophy. Then she tapped the cover of it and frowned. “Zero bars.”
“Yeah, ditto,” said Mercury. “Keep it out, Jenny,” Mercury shoved hers back in her pocket and motioned for Stella to get behind the wheel. “Check it while we’re driving. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be a cell tower still working.”
“Okay, will do,” Jenny said solemnly.
Stella climbed back in the pickup, and Mercury slid in next to her while Jenny stared at the face of her phone. If this was the apocalypse, she was going to head into it sandwiched between two friends.
Jenny got in beside her and then held her hand out to Karen. “Here, Mrs. Gay, I’ll help ya.”
Karen Gay smoothed her short, graying blonde bob with fingers that trembled noticeably. The lines that framed her lips looked deeper, and her skin appeared almost brittle. Mercury tried to remember how old she was, but realized she’d never known the history teacher’s age. She was a fixture at Will Rogers High School and had seemed late middle aged when Mercury had started teaching a little over a decade ago. She made a mental note to keep an eye on her. Stella was in her mid-forties—but youthful, in shape, and vibrant. Karen Gay was a good thirty or so pounds too heavy and probably hadn’t really sweated since her twenties. They weren’t friends. They’d never be friends, but Mercury damn sure didn’t want to watch one more person die. Ever.
“Th-thank you Jenny,” Karen said shakily and took the young teacher’s hand before squeezing into the cab and closing the door tightly.
Before Stella put the truck in gear, she felt around the bench seat under her butt. “Sometimes these old trucks actually have seat belts. Does anyone feel any?” The women searched the seat and found none. “Well, okay, no seat belts.” She reached to her left and pressed down the lock. “Karen, lock your door.” Karen did so without comment. “Here we go.”
Much more slowly than before, Stella started down the only half of the highway left. She wove the truck around fallen trees and guided it past slashes in the asphalt. The first car they came to was stalled in the middle of the two lanes, heading the correct way, toward them. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the vehicle. As they drove by it, Karen, who had the best view of the car, gasped and turned her face away.
“What it is?” Mercury asked quickly.
Mrs. Gay shook her head. “Another man. Just outside the car. Dead. Like poor Mr. Hale.”
“I wonder what the hell is going on with that,” Stella murmured softly so that her words only carried over the engine noise to Mercury.
Mercury shrugged. She had no answer. Everything that had happened since the first explosion was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. She didn’t even like apocalypse movies. They creeped her out too much, so she never watched them—well, except for an occasional zombie flick. Great, and now I’m living a fucking apocalypse. If zombies show up, I’m going to… Mercury’s thoughts trailed off because the truth was, if zombies showed up, she wouldn’t give up. She’d fight to keep herself—and her group—alive. She squeezed her eyes closed and sent a quick prayer, which would’ve seemed utterly ridiculous just an hour before, to her patron goddess. Please, Gaia, no zombies.
They rounded another turn, and a long section of highway unfolded in front of them—though here, too, there was only the two westbound lanes still intact. The cliffside lanes were mostly gone. Mercury didn’t let herself look over the earth-torn edge. It wouldn’t do any good. She couldn’t save the people who had been swept down the mountainside, so she focused on what was ahead of them instead—clusters of stalled cars and trucks—as well as more wrecks. She thought she could make out people around some of the vehicles, though they weren’t close enough to tell if they were alive or dead. What was for sure was that their truck was the only one moving within sight.