“Being out here with you is exactly where I wanna be. You mean everything to me, Kara. Everything.”
Wade isn’t a liar. He says what he means, and he said she means everything. It’s left her so shocked and speechless that her ghost catapults to some far-off corner of her brain in favor of reveling in what she just heard. Somehow, it means more than that love declaration did because it’s so much harder to rationalize this time when he’s looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
Before she can reply, her head pounds and she grips it hard with a wince.
He guides her back to the sofa and covers her with a worn blanket while her concussion puts an effective end to a convoluted conversation. One she may not even remember when she wakes, but at the moment, all she can hear as she begins to drift is the rumble of Wade’s soothing voice.
* * *
They spend the next three days trying to find enough supplies to survive while holding up in the office to wait out their head injuries.
She sleeps most of the time and when she’s not passed out, Wade is, but they find a few Twinkies and unopened glass bottles of soda in a retro machine in the garage. Despite tasting like absolute shit, it keeps them from getting dehydrated.
Water is the biggest concern. They can’t stay here without a source. Now that her filter is gone, it’ll be even harder to find something acceptable.
They need a flowing river at best or more bottles of this crap at worst.
She isn’t sure if her ghost is gone for good, but he hasn’t been back yet. Her head trauma is healing and she’ll take the quiet however she can get it.
Now, they have a mission and little time to waste, so she’s on the back of the bike again while they head for the distant Arizona mountains. Not to hike yet, but to search out a water source along the way or risk being stranded.
A cluster of hovering birds in the sky gives them the first hint. Animal tracks lead the rest of the way to a small stream where they drink their fill and store a second helping in those old soda bottles.
Moving water means less contamination. After having to ingest that soda, she’s more than ready for a good drink. They nestle the rest safely in the storage container of the bike, wrapped in towels from the shop to keep from jostling.
If they’re lucky, they’ll find a filter soon. They are, after all, near one of the best camping capitals of the world.
They haven’t seen any mountain peaks yet, but they’re close. She can feel it. Any second now, they’ll tower high and show themselves.
* * *
Turns out driving to the red rocks is a hell of a lot further than they expected. They’re still not there by the time the sun starts to set.
One thing about national parks and forests that’s working out in their favor is all the easily looted campsites. RVs rarely have more than a single rotter or two inside, and the ones roaming the parks are easy to take out. They’ve become camping folk now, moving from one park to the next without even discussing that as the plan. It just is.
A forest in New Mexico is their next stop, boasting a few road signs for general stores and camping supplies close by, and the most expansive field she’s ever seen not covered in corn.
“It doesn’t even look real, does it? It’s some sort of combination of Kansas, the desert, and the Rockies.” The rock formations in the distance are distinctly western, but the grasslands have Midwest written all over them. Then she spots something moving in the distance at a steady amble, followed by two, three, six more, all as big as cars, and she gasps, tugging at his shoulder. “Wade, there’s bison! Look!”
She must sound like a child just learning these animals exist. She’s looking at a herd of bison from the back of the bike, grazing like the virus never touched this land. Her migraine is gone, the weather is nice, and all feels right with the world again after being toppled so completely over the last few days.
“Wonder if they taste like regular beef.”
She nudges him. “Very funny. Those are for looking, not eating.”
“Can I have one of those deer instead?”
She follows his pointed finger to a herd in the other direction. Her face must be lit up like a fully decorated Christmas tree.
“Oh no. You like them, too, huh?” he teases, looking over his shoulder to catch her gazing at the animals. “Gonna let me try to find a squirrel at least?”
“I suppose the forest can spare a squirrel or two.”
She’s not even sure if there are squirrels out here, but if they exist, Wade will find them.
* * *
They come across a collection of trailers and vans only a mile past the park signs. Not a rotter to be seen. There are no obstacles out here to trap them, and anything that used to haunt this space wandered off long ago.
