Page 78 of Waves of Fury

“And if Vegas is a bust?” I ask with a yawn so wide my jaw pops. “Then what? We can’t run forever.”

Kellen is silent for a beat and then stiffens. “Any word on Kansas?”

Aaron lifts an eyebrow at him. “Kansas? That’s halfway across the damn country.”

Kellen raises a palm but now nods vigorously as an idea takes root. A spark of anticipation races down my spine.

“I was thinking last night while everyone slept. Sure, we’ve heard no news, but I have family there. Ransom, specifically.” Kellen drags the map out of Aaron’s grasp and slides a finger from Vegas on a route northwest to the Utah border. “We head up this way toward Denver—another big city that might have survived.”

Without seeing a map of Utah or Colorado for that matter, I’m confused on how he knows all this.

“Someone should brush up on their basic US geography,” Kellen says with a smirk. “Trust me. I can get us there. And we’ll raid convenience stores or rest stops along the way for an Atlas.”

“Family in Kansas?” I say slowly. “Would they be welcoming to our group?”

“It’s my uncle,” Kellen rushes out. “Not a dick like my dad. And if there’s any hope my brother and father survived all the shit going on in Texas, it’s likely they’ll head that way too.” He practically thrums with excitement now. “My uncle’s a prepper. He’ll have stocks of food, water, supplies. Plus, we’ll have shelter and a place to finally rest.”

“What if Kansas is gone?” Aaron asks in a solemn tone.

Kellen flinches and sighs. “Then there’s always plan B.”

He shifts his gaze to the rifle sitting next to him. Suicide? Yeah, I’mnota fan of plan B.

“We’ll find them there,” I assure them both. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The part of Nevada we’re traveling through is remote, scarce of people and resources, and now, because of the weather phenomenon, cold as fuck. We’re on day two of traveling with too many people crammed into one vehicle and it sucks. It really sucks.

But hey, no one’s died since we left the rest stop, so there’s that.

We are, however, dangerously low on water and food.

When it starts to snow, I’m about to lose my shit.

“We’ll reach the outskirts of Vegas by nightfall,” Kellen says, grasping for my hand. “Hang in there.”

Our group has fallen silent in the car aside from Kellen’s encouragement. This morning, after we said a few words for Gerry, we took a few hours to take stock of our supplies and check on the vehicle. While the SUV sustained damage, it’s nothing to keep us from driving it until it runs out of gas.

That’s our biggest problem at the moment.

Vegas is about a two to three hour “normal” drive from our location according to Kellen’s understanding of the mileage we need to cover. However, we’re running low on gas and without any way to siphon any fuel from an abandoned vehicle should we run into one, we’re basically screwed.

We’ll be back to hiking in no time.

The SUV starts to sputter and slightly jerk. Jesse curses and Wayne groans. It’s time. He coasts as long as he can until the vehicle slows to a stop. We’re out of gas. Officially.

“Let’s take a quick moment to eat and relieve ourselves,” Kellen says to the group. “Then we’ll continue on foot. We should start seeing signs of civilization soon.”

A statement that should bring hope brings dread instead.

No one voices it and we all do as instructed, munching on our meager rations that do nothing to quell the loud protests of our empty bellies. Normally, I could subsist on junk food for days without any real nutrients. However, out here where every minute is one of survival, I’m burning through the few calories I manage to ingest, which is leaving me lightheaded and weak. I know everyone else feels the same.

As we all do our business in the frigid cold air, snowflakes dotting our hair and faces, I silently dread the road ahead. We have no idea what to expect, which has everyone anxious and on edge.

“So, um, guys,” Dan says slowly, voice gruff. “Judy’s ankle is flared back up after the run last night. I rewrapped it for her, but she’s in pain.”

I glance over at Judy’s pinched face and notice she’s keeping her weight off her injured ankle.

“I have some pain relievers in my pack,” I offer, starting to pull my bag off my back.

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