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Chapter Two
Sam
Thesunsetthree hours into the drive. That was when I pulled over to fill the Jeep with gas. It still had enough, but I feared the worst if we found ourselves out of fuel in the pitch-black of night.
BeLew had moved to the front passenger seat, sharing a seat belt. It was fun for them, still getting used to breaking the rules after a lifetime of, “no you can’t do that.” Their blonde hair wafted in the slight breeze.
Winds were coming back. Another storm loomed on the horizon. We needed to keep moving.
My eyes skimmed the road and tree line. No sight of anyone or much of anything. A few cars had blown off the road, but there were no houses within sight, let alone people.
The shoe moved.
I had laid him in the back seat, wrapping some seatbelts around his body and tucking a blanket on one side so he wouldn’t move much. The extent of his injuries was unclear, but the floorboards beneath him were free of blood. That meant the bleeding had stopped, at least.
BeLew turned their bodies around and peeked through the gaps in their seat. I clucked my tongue at them. “Turn back around and get buckled in.” I threw the empty gas can behind me. It bounced on the road and rolled to a stop. I never littered before, but what did it matter now?
I lifted myself onto the side step and leaned over him, placing my hands on the seat by his middle. He was still breathing. Obviously, Rowan, he just moved. “Hey,” I yelled over his limp body. No movement or reaction. I gently nudged his side with my forearm. “If you can hear me, we are almost there. Now might be a good time to wake up.”
BeLew giggled. I turned, giving them a smirk. “Okay, on we go,” I said, pushing myself back up.
Just when I shifted away, there was the slight touch of fingers around my wrist. The grip was so weak, but there nonetheless.
I put my other hand on top of his and bent down. I touched my cheek to his and spoke into his ear, “Rest now but pull your shit together later. I can’t drag you onboard.” His eyes fluttered open for a moment and then closed again. His strength failed, and his hand fell back to the seat. Beneath the dirt and matted hair, he was handsome – strong, covered in muscle. Of course, he was in shape to have survived that long. In another life, I might have been nervous around someone that good-looking. My cheeks would have flushed and I would have stared. By that point, I was too numb to care. Handsome meant nothing if you were dead.
“Aunt Row said shit,” Beau giggled.
I grimaced. “Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean you can.” We settled back into our seats while I cursed silently to myself.
What the fuck are you doing?
The engine roared back to life, and we continued. Obstacles had forced us to turn around and re-route three times so far, but we’d only lost about an hour. In the weeks leading up to this, I had spent countless nights memorizing the path of every road, detour, elevation, and landmark to get there. I had seen these roads in my sleep for a long time and dreamed of driving us like this.
I used to suffer from a terrible sense of direction. No matter how many times I visited the same place, I still used an app on my phone to get there. Necessity changed a person so they could endure. I hadn’t touched the maps in the passenger glove box - there was no need.
It was pitch black when my headlights spotted a pile of cars. A labyrinth of pine trees interlaced the wreckage. They must have been driving in the storm. We were so close - maybe twenty minutes. Turning around again was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to be pragmatic. Emotional decisions would kill us all.
I stopped the Jeep, grabbed my flashlight, and hopped out. The boys stayed buckled in, now used to the routine. The man was still.
My heart sank as my light illuminated the scene. It was a shitshow - the worst I had seen yet. Maybe these people were trying to make it to the ships, but a dozen cars were nothing more than a pile of twisted metal and wood. No sign of a path or something I could drive over with the Jeep’s thirty-seven-inch tires.
So close.
The sound of the wind was stronger now. Time was running out. The ticking clock in my head grew louder.
What do I do?
I heard the noise of an engine in the distance; a loud one. I jogged back to the Jeep and saw headlights faintly in the dark. Someone was coming. The closer we came to the shore, I had expected to see people, but the sound startled me. The roaring engine made my stomach drop. People, at times, proved to be more dangerous than the weather.
Not every stranger meant danger. Help was beyond the pile of metal. Dean was one of many that had planned ahead. There were men that had known what was coming and were going to save who they could, who they loved. In Dean’s case, who they needed. They were military through and through, but they were still human. No one wanted children drowning on their conscience.
The noise grew louder. I turned the Jeep around, now resigned to the fact that we would have to take another route, and the headlights blinded me as the car came forward. The road was wide enough to pull to one side. But which side?
I kept slightly to the right, hoping the years of habit would keep the other driver on my left. Closer it came, and I realized it wasn’t a car. It was an eighteen-wheeler, and it was flying in the center of the road. I didn’t know if it saw the wreckage ahead, but if it slammed on its brakes, the load would slide to one side, taking out anything in its way - taking out this Jeep. I drove forward, playing a game of chicken, but I had to get closer before picking how to go around.
It roared on, not slowing down. Maybe a football field’s length stretched between us when it sped up. The truck gunned its engine.
Go right, it’s muscle memory; he’ll do it too.
