4. The Road #4
Addy leaned back, processing his words. The steady rumble of the engine filled the space between them, low and constant. “So the sick overseas, what were they like? Were they… violent?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Not like that. Not at first, anyway. They weren’t attacking anyone. It was more like… their bodies were shutting down piece by piece, but something kept them moving. Like their brains didn’t know they were dying.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion flickering in his eyes.
“It spreads fast. Airborne, I think. The incubation time’s short, hours sometimes.
The only people who seem to last longer are the ones who isolate early or get lucky.
When I was with my grandma, I wore protection every time I went near her.
I think that’s the only reason I didn’t get it. ”
Addy swallowed, glancing at the faint edge of light blooming in the east. “You must’ve seen some horrible things.”
“Yeah.” His voice was low, almost flat. “You don’t really forget the sound of someone trying to breathe through something that’s killing them from the inside.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The road stretched out ahead, cracked and endless, the rising sun bleeding pale orange through the clouds.
Then Sawyer added, almost to himself, “If what we heard on the radio is real, if there’s still a safe zone somewhere, I’ll get you there. After that…” He exhaled slowly. “After that, we’ll see.”
Addy turned toward him, studying his face. There was something in his expression — determination, grief, possibly both, but she didn’t press further. She just nodded, the faintest whisper of trust settling between them.
* * *
By the time the sun had climbed high overhead, the landscape had started to blur together—mile after mile of frostbitten fields, bare trees stripped of their color, and quiet roads that seemed to go nowhere.
Around noon, Sawyer eased the truck off the main road and onto a dirt path that ran parallel to a stretch of old railroad tracks.
The tires crunched over gravel before coming to a stop beside a faded crossing sign leaning at an angle.
“Let’s stop and stretch our legs,” he said, cutting the engine.
“We need to talk. The ‘safe zone’, if it even exists, should’ve appeared long ago.
” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.
“Either the coordinates were wrong, or it’s moved.
Or maybe it was never real in the first place. Either way… we need a plan.”
Addy blinked at him, rubbing the stiffness from her neck. She hadn’t realized how long they’d been driving until the silence of the stopped engine filled her ears. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I was starting to wonder the same thing.”
They both climbed out, the cold air biting instantly at her cheeks. Addy stretched her arms above her head, groaning a little as her spine cracked. It felt good to move, to feel air that wasn’t filtered through a vent. The smell of damp pine and frozen earth filled her lungs.
They were surrounded by forest now. It was denser here, more untamed than the thin woods near town.
The last scraps of autumn clung to the trees, patches of amber and copper trembling in the cold wind before letting go.
Leaves scuttled across the ground like whispers, gathering in small drifts along the road.
The wind threaded through them, carrying the faint cry of a crow somewhere far off.
Addy turned slowly in place, taking it all in. “I’ve never been this far west from Gains,” she murmured. “It’s… different. Pretty, I guess. In a wild sort of way.”
Sawyer stepped up beside her, squinting toward the tree line.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Pretty—but also isolated. Which might actually work in our favor.” He shifted his stance, scanning the horizon like he was building a mental map.
“I know this area pretty well. Used to come out here sometimes, to hike, fish, clear my head. It’s tourist country, mostly.
Lots of rental cabins, campgrounds, private lake houses.
The kind of places people come to ‘disconnect.’”
Addy smiled faintly at the phrase. “Guess they got their wish.”
He let out a low hum of agreement. “I think our best bet, at least for now, is to find one of those cabins. Something off the grid, far enough from the main road that we won’t draw attention. We can hole up for a few days, rest, resupply, listen to the radio. Figure out what’s next.”
Addy hesitated. “You think it’s safe to stop somewhere that… public? I mean, what if someone else already took it?”
“That’s the risk,” he admitted. “But we’ll approach carefully. If someone’s there, we move on. If not, we fortify it. Either way, it’s better than sleeping in the truck again.”
She nodded slowly, glancing around the forest once more.
The shadows between the trees seemed deeper now, the light shifting as clouds moved across the sun.
“I just… I don’t know. It feels weird to think about staying somewhere.
Like we’re putting down roots when we might have to leave the second things go bad. ”
Sawyer looked at her, his expression softer than usual.
“Surviving isn’t about running all the time.
It’s about knowing when to stop and breathe, so you’ve got the strength to keep going.
” He paused, then added, “Besides, I’ve learned that plans don’t last long out here. So we start small. One day at a time.”
Addy looked up at him, studying the lines of fatigue etched into his face, the kind that came from years of carrying too much. For the first time since she’d met him, he almost looked human, not just like a soldier or survivalist. Someone who was tired, too.
She nodded again. “Okay. A cabin. I can handle that.”
“Good,” he said, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. “There’s a stretch about ten miles north, by a lake. Used to be a bunch of vacation rentals out that way. If even one’s still standing, we’ll have shelter. Maybe even a generator.”
He turned back toward the truck, brushing dirt from his hands. “Let’s grab some water before we go. You need to stay hydrated.”
As Addy took a drink from her canteen, she let her gaze drift back toward the tracks. The rails stretched on forever, vanishing into the trees, silent, abandoned, and cold.
Something about them reminded her of everything that was gone: movement, direction, purpose.
And now, somehow, she and Sawyer were standing at the edge of what was left.