Chapter 12
Sophie had phrased it carefully. Rachel understood the question for what it was. It wasn’t a suggestion. She was testing the limits of what Rachel would do and whether being left behind was still possible.
“That won’t happen,” Rachel said.
Sophie accepted the answer without speaking.
Her mouth flattened, and her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack.
The heat shimmered off the road beside them, carrying the sharp smell of rubber and dust. A loose sheet of paper scraped across the shoulder before catching against the SUV’s tire.
Rachel turned to the supplies on the tailgate and began deciding what to carry.
The paper maps stayed with them. She folded the Ohio-Pennsylvania section carefully and set it aside.
The depleted first-aid kit still held gauze, tape, antiseptic wipes, and pain relievers.
She added the wool blanket, one foil emergency blanket folded small, and three water bottles.
Two bottles were still sealed, and the third was three-quarters full.
She had found stagnant water nearby, but filtering it through cloth would only remove debris.
It wouldn’t make the water safe to drink, so she left it alone.
The food pile held the granola bar, the crackers, the mints, and the packet of nuts Sophie had offered from her own supplies.
Rachel set aside her blouse, socks, underwear, and the toiletry kit, minus anything that needed water they couldn’t spare.
She kept the tire iron, both screwdrivers, the folding utility knife, the duct tape, and the compass.
She left behind the jumper cables, the phone charger, the dead flashlight, the flares, and the zip ties.
The flares were too bright and too likely to draw unwanted attention.
The canvas pouch rasped against the tailgate when she pushed it aside, and the metal ends of the cables clicked together softly.
Dust clung to her palms as she sorted through the pile, leaving a gritty taste in the back of her mouth.
Everything electronic went into the discard pile.
She packed the useful items into her overnight bag and the county-issued backpack she normally used for files.
The bag was too heavy to lift, so she removed the spare slacks and the heavier tools.
She transferred one sealed water bottle to Sophie’s backpack with the lighter food items. Rachel kept the second sealed bottle and the partially full one herself.
Around them, other travelers made the same choices.
A woman dragged a wheeled suitcase fifty yards before the wheels caught too many times on cracked pavement.
She moved the essentials into a grocery bag and left the suitcase beside the road.
A father carried his toddler in a bedsheet knotted across his chest. An older couple packed what they could into one backpack and took turns carrying it.
Not everyone left. The man who had tried his ignition all morning still sat behind the wheel with the door open.
His mouth was set hard, and he kept one hand on the keys.
The woman from the compact car had finally climbed out, but she stayed beside her vehicle with her arms crossed and watched the others leave as if the departures angered her.
Rachel found a notepad in the SUV’s glove compartment and wrote their names, the date, their destination, and the route they planned to take.
She included Sophie’s aunt’s address and phone number, though the number meant nothing.
She folded the note and tucked it beneath the driver’s seat.
It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone searching the vehicle, but someone from the department might find it if the world came back together enough for people to look.
She shouldered the heavier pack and adjusted the straps.
The weight settled across her back and pressed into her shoulders.
She handed Sophie the lighter backpack and watched the girl slip her arms through the straps without complaint.
Rachel redistributed the contents of Sophie’s grocery bag between the two packs, eliminating the extra bag so Sophie could keep both hands free.
For a moment, Sophie stood beside the SUV with her backpack secure and stared west along the highway.
From where they stood, the direction held nothing visible except road, stopped vehicles, and heat rising from the asphalt.
Rachel knew what Sophie was thinking about anyway.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, Hannah and Caleb were living through the same powerless morning.
Sophie knew they were there. She also knew every eastbound step carried Rachel farther from them because Rachel had refused to leave her behind.
The knowledge stayed between them as plainly as the packs on their backs.
Sophie turned east. She tightened her backpack straps and started walking along the shoulder.
Gravel shifted under her shoes with a dry scrape, and the pack gave a small creak as it settled against her back.
The air ahead wavered with heat, carrying the smell of dust and sunbaked weeds from the ditch.
Her pace was measured and steady. Rachel followed.
The SUV receded behind them, tilted in the ditch and already looking like part of the abandoned road.
Other travelers moved east in ones, twos, and family groups.
A mile east, Rachel glanced back. The highway curved behind them, and from the higher ground, she could see the blurred shape of the city they had been driving through when the lights went out.
A thin, dark column rose from somewhere near the center of town.
It was too steady to be weather and too dark to be dust. Smoke rose above the city.
Something was burning, and no sirens, engines, or aircraft answered it.
The city’s emergency services had already begun to fail.
Rachel faced east again and kept walking.
Fifty-five miles lay between them and Sophie’s aunt, and every step carried her away from the children she had promised to see by dinner.
She walked because stopping wasn’t an option.
The girl beside her had asked for nothing except a chance that they would still have something to eat the following day.
The straps bit into Rachel’s shoulders with each step, and the hot wind tasted faintly of smoke.