Page 96 of Waves of Fury

The closer we get to the city, an orange glow backlights the mountains on the horizon in front of us. I get a faint whiff of smoke. I’m reminded of Vegas, which was an absolute shitshow.

“At the very least,” Kellen says, “we need to find a radio and get word back to St. George. Those people headed their way are up to no good and they’re clearly fleeing from whatever happened in Denver.”

The chances of finding a working radio without risking our necks feels next to impossible. Despite that, I give him a nod. We’ll do what we can for the only people who’ve helped us on this journey.

Before we get closer to Denver, Aaron pulls the vehicle to a stop and hops out. He and Dan both meet us on the side of the truck bed.

With the truck stopped, the sounds coming from the city are unmistakable. Gunfire. Bombs. Explosions. The city is under siege.

“What do we do now?” Hope asks. “We can’t go into that.”

“We have to reach St. George and warn them,” Kellen says. “But how?”

Dan shakes his head. “They’re on their own. They’re guarded and can protect themselves against a dozen vehicles. It’s not worth losing any of our people just to give them a warning. I’m sorry, but I’m making this call. We go around Denver.”

“But—” Kellen starts.

Dan cuts him off. “I know. It sucks. It’s the way of the world now, though. If we come across a radio, we’ll try. But we’re not risking it. I’m sorry.”

With those words, he stomps back to the cab of the truck, climbs in, and slams the door shut. Aaron meets Hope’s wide-eyed gaze. She gives him a small nod.

“Okay,” Aaron says with a heavy, resigned sigh. “We’ll travel around. Take one of the smaller roads on the outskirts of the city, heading east. After we get to a safe place, though, we’re going to need to hunker down for the night. I’m beat.”

Everyone is somber as we make the trek away from the war going on in Denver. It’s as though the big cities all turned on each other. I’m hoping this Podunk town in Kansas will be our refuge because we just left the only safe place thus far.

Kellen takes my hand in his and threads our fingers together. It’s worth it, though. Being here with Kellen, no matter what dangers we face together, is better than staying in St. George alone.

My heart thumps violently in my chest. I think I love this man. It’s such a wild concept, but I feel it in my bones. Even though he nearly left without me, I know he feels the same.

To kill the boredom of this trip, I reach into my pack to find an ink pen. Kellen smirks at me and then helps me shove my jacket up my forearm to reveal the tic-tac-toe tattoo. I’m not focused on winning, just the gentle touches on my skin by the most amazing man I’ve ever met.

We play for what feels like hours, a small reprieve from our brutal reality. And when we’re too exhausted to play anymore, Kellen pulls me against his chest, arms cradled around me. I inhale the lingering scent of the motel soap and burrow into his warmth. He kisses the top of my head and whispers assurances that have my eyes drooping heavily.

We’ll go to Ransom, Kansas, and find Kellen’s brother.

Then we’ll find somewhere safe and make a life together.

Feeling hope in such a dismal world is foolish and a waste of time, yet when you have a future with someone great—someone you’ve gone to hell and back with—you can’t help but put all your stock into such a world.

It can’t be like this forever.

One day, we’ll be safe.

As I drift off, I hold onto that thought because the alternative is too depressing—too soul crushing to even consider.

Losing everything is what’s at stake.

Kellen

Aaron drives us in what feels like circles until he finds an old service station on the side of the road. It’s been closed for decades based on the disrepair and dated signage, but it’ll do for the night. He pulls around to the back so we won’t be seen from the road and then we all pile out of the truck to stretch our legs.

“Me and Tyler will go scope out the inside,” I say to our group as they begin unloading their packs and gear. “We need to make sure it’s safe and there aren’t any surprises hiding for us.”

The two of us make our way to the back door and peer into the dark, clearly abandoned space. Nothing seems to be lurking. Tyler jiggles the door handle, but it’s locked. However, a well-placed kick sends the door flinging open without resistance. With flashlights in hand, we scour over the small building, searching for people and supplies. We find neither. We do, however, find a family of mice who are not happy to be disturbed.

It’s shelter, though.

Not as nice as the last motel we stayed at in St. George, but it sure beats camping out on the side of the road.

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