Page 94 of Waves of Fury

How stupid can we be to leave relative safety?

It was Dan, in the end, who stood up to the mayor. He wasn’t cruel, but he was direct, reminding them once more that this oasis in hell was temporary. That they needed to prepare for long-term survival.

In the end, they acquiesced without trouble. The St. George group was kind enough to stock our vehicle with food, supplies, and several precious containers of gasoline.

After a hearty breakfast, we left. It felt both relieving and terrifying with a healthy dose of uncertainty slathered on top.

We’ve been on the road for a couple of hours or so and every bone in my body is numb from the biting cold. So far, though, we haven’t experienced any terrible weather happenings, which gives me hope for a smooth ride to Denver.

“You sure we should hit Denver first?” I ask for the tenth time since we made the decision over breakfast. “Shouldn’t we just cut across toward Kansas?”

Kellen turns to look at me, studying my mouth for a beat before meeting my eyes. “Jared said they sent a small group up to Denver to check on the state of things with the supposed military presence there, but they haven’t heard from them in over a week. We owe it to them to at least give them an update. They took us in when we needed it most.”

If the group didn’t report back, then they most likely ran into trouble, were killed, or found something better. The last one seems like stupid hope.

I can’t help but feel as though we’re going to run right into trouble too. That’s our track record thus far, after all.

The next eight to ten hours of travel are going to have my nerves entirely frayed by the time we get there. I’m hoping and praying it’s all for nothing. That the military has a handle on things there.

The twist of my gut tells me otherwise.

I wake to my head thumping against the back window as Aaron accelerates and bounces over something in the road. It’s growing dark, either from an impending storm, dusk, or both, but I notice several sets of wide, worried gazes from the others in the bed of the truck.

“What is it?” I croak out, ignoring the need to take a piss. Badly.

Kellen hands me a water bottle and frowns. “Cars up ahead. Looks like a caravan of headlights headed our way.”

Great.

Everyone tenses as we approach.

Keep going, Aaron.

No one says a word as Aaron cruises past the first vehicle in the caravan of what looks to be ten to twelve vehicles long. After several seconds of nothing but icy wind whipping through my hair and beating on my face, I almost think I worried for nothing.

Until I hear the first pop…

Gunshot.

And another.

Pings can be heard hitting the side of the truck as the report of gunfire continues. These people are shooting at us! Kellen grabs hold of the back of my neck and jerks me down. The sound of glass shattering and raining down over my back tells me we moved just in time. My heart races nearly as fast as Aaron as he weaves the truck along the road in an attempt to make us less of a target.

Are they coming after us?

Is this where we all die?

Wayne howls in pain and my chest seizes up. I’m smashed down under Kellen’s weight, so I can’t see what has him hollering. Chaotic voices of our group can be heard over the cacophony of gunfire.

And then it stops as quickly as it began.

Kellen eases up and lifts to look over the lip of the truck bed. “They’re not following us,” he calls out. “Fuck. Wayne? You okay?”

Wayne grunts. “Took a goddamn bullet to the ass.”

“Pull your pants down,” Hope instructs. “Tyler. Get over here with your kit.”

Aaron doesn’t slow, which is for the best. If those people decide to turn around, we need to have a head start so we can outrun them. I yank my kit out of my bag and scrabble over to where Wayne is lying on his side. Hope has a flashlight, aiming it right at his lower back. Jesse swaps places with me to make room.

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