8. Unexpected Kindness #2
“So,” Jay continued, “you’re welcome to stick with us. There’s safety in numbers, and working together improves our odds of reaching our destination. We can help you get to Denver, and...” He paused. “You might be able to help us too.”
She blinked, surprised. “Help you how?”
“You’re from Denver I assume,” Jay reminded her. “Locals know the city—the back roads, industrial parks, where to look, and where to avoid. That kind of knowledge could save us time and our lives.”
Josie looked down. “Yeah... I know the city. Born there, raised there. If my parents are still alive...” Her voice caught, and she cleared it softly. “If there’s even a chance—.”
Cara stepped forward, her voice surprisingly gentle for someone so blunt. “Then we’ll get you there.”
Josie’s eyes lifted, brimming with tears. “You’d really help us?”
Jay nodded once. “We don’t leave people behind. Not if there’s a choice.”
Seth remained silent but met Josie’s gaze and nodded too.
A slow, unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest. Her shoulders eased, and she realized the tremble in her hands had finally stilled. She looked at the three strangers, who felt more like a lifeline than any she’d known for months, then back at her SUV where Layla was watching.
“Okay,” she said, the word a quiet exhale. “Yes. We’ll go with you.”
Jay offered a small, reassuring smile. “Good. Let’s roll then. Long road ahead.”
Cara turned toward the passenger seat of their SUV and paused, glancing at Josie one last time. “We stick together now, alright?”
Josie nodded. “Together.”
Seth exhaled, long and slow, then climbed behind the wheel.
Three SUVs, one new alliance, and somewhere ahead of them: Denver.
The sun climbed higher as they drove, the broken landscape of the suburbs giving way to miles of empty highway. A few hours later, Jay’s signal flickered, and he steered the vehicles onto a wide shoulder where the pavement crumbled into gravel. As good a place as any to refuel.
Jay hopped out and helped Seth pull the gas cans from the back of the vehicles, Cara watched the road while Seth positioned a hose in one of the tanks.
Josie climbed out of her Jeep last. Her hand slid over the hood as she came around, her fingers finding the tiny dent near the headlight. Mark backed into the mailbox last summer—the crunch of metal, his sheepish grin. The memory surfaced so sharp it almost stole her breath.
Jay glanced at her, his expression softening. “We need to talk.”
Josie stiffened. “About what?”
He nodded toward the vehicles. “Fuel. We’re going to burn through it a hell of a lot faster with three rigs instead of two.”
Seth straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans. He said nothing, but his eyes flicked from the Jeep to Josie.
Jay continued, his voice steady but not unkind. “Your Jeep’s solid, but it can’t haul the trailer. Every extra gallon burned is one we might need later. We have to consolidate.”
Josie swallowed against the tightness climbing her throat. “You want me to leave it?”
Jay didn’t answer right away, and that alone answered enough.
She looked at the Jeep—Mark’s Jeep. The one he used to drive Layla to school, the one they’d taken on camping trips, the one that, until yesterday, had served as her only lifeline. Her fingers tightened on the doorframe.
“My husband’s,” she said, her hand still resting on the door handle.
A muscle in Seth’s neck corded. “We get it,” he said quietly.
Josie looked up at him then—really looked—and saw something haunted staring back, something that recognized loss because it lived inside him, too.
Jay stepped closer, keeping his voice gentle. “We’re not asking you to forget him, or to forget what this meant to you. But out here, we have to make choices that keep us alive. All of us.”
Josie blinked hard; her eyes shimmering. “Will it be safe here? The Jeep?” It was foolish to wonder about a car and she knew it, but the look on their faces told her they understood.
Cara answered from the other side of the SUV, her tone practical but surprisingly soft. “We can hide it behind that billboard, cover it with debris. It’ll look like it’s been sitting there since the fall.”
Josie nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay... I’ll ride with Seth.”
Seth froze for a half-second, then nodded, clearing his throat. “You and Layla can take the back. Plenty of room.”
Josie managed a wobbly smile. “Thank you.”
They worked quickly to move the contents of the jeep to Beast. When they finished and moved it behind the destroyed sign she opened the door, and let her hand rest on the steering wheel one last time.
“Goodbye, Mark,” she murmured, and closed the door with a final, decisive click.
Jay walked up beside her, “We’ll get you to Denver. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”
Josie nodded, wiping her cheek quickly before anyone could pretend not to see. “Thanks, its appreciated,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Let’s go.”
Seth handled the car seat with a practiced efficiency that made Josie’s breath catch. He clicked the buckle, pulled the strap tight, and tested the latch with a firm tug—all in one smooth, familiar motion.
Josie watched him, Layla on her hip. For the first time since meeting him, she noticed the way his hands automatically gentled around the car seat, the way he double-checked every buckle even though he already knew it was perfectly secured.
“You’re... well practiced,” she said, attempting a light tone that wavered at the end.
Seth froze.
He didn’t stiffen. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t get angry.
He simply stopped. His hands froze over the last strap, fingers slightly curled, as if remembering a weight that was no longer there.
“Oh. God.” Her voice cracked. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
But his voice came out mechanical, far too calm.
He clicked the last strap into place with a finality that made Josie’s heart twist. When he straightened, he didn’t look at her—just wiped a hand over his face, jaw looked tense.
“I had a son,” he said, the words barely audible.
The silence that followed pressed down on all of them, heavy as gravity.
Josie swallowed, her eyes blurring. “I shouldn’t have joked. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Seth finally looked at her—eyes rough and tired, the skin beneath them bruised and sunken.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice flat. “How would you?”
He stepped back, giving her space—or possibly giving himself space. Josie hugged Layla closer. The little girl rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, oblivious to the words yet somehow sensing the heaviness that had settled over the adults around her.
Josie placed a trembling hand on the SUV door before he could close it.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For trusting us enough to tell us that.”
He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t tell you because of trust.” He exhaled roughly, the sound scraping out of him. “I told you because... I don’t want you to think I’m angry. I’m not.”
Josie blinked, the quiet admission hitting her harder than any shout would have.
Jay cleared his throat, breaking the moment before it could grow any heavier. “We should get moving. It's still a long way to go.”
Seth nodded and stepped back to let her climb in beside her daughter. Before shutting the door, he paused—his eyes meeting Josie’s one last time. Something unspoken moved between them in that brief, final look.
Then he closed the door with a soft, careful finality.