“I figured I might as well finish out the day and give your knee a rest,” Sandy suggested.

  She’d get no argument from him this time. His knee was sore and getting worse as the day progressed. There just wasn’t as much room to extend his left leg from the driver’s seat as there was over here.

  “It’s all you. I’ve got to find us a place to spend the night anyway.” Ben buckled in and waved the map in the air.

  “Are we going to be driving for long?” Emma asked.

  “Not sure how much longer, but I’m looking for fresh water and a little distance from this place,” Ben said.

  “I guess it really doesn’t matter,” Emma replied, then excused herself from further interaction by opening a book.

  Ben noticed the two dogs back in their usual spots. Bajer lay as close to Emma as she could manage, and Sam was in the cargo area, licking her injured paw.

  “I feel you, Em. It won’t be long, though. Promise.” Ben turned his attention to the atlas.

  Sandy pulled out behind the Scrambler, and together, they added one more story to their cross-country trek with yet another struggle that would be impossible to forget no matter how hard they tried.

  22

  Ben had all but forgotten about the roadblock ahead, and just as Allie reported earlier, the setup was incredibly evident. An obviously unnatural and apparent series of wrecks had been strung together to form a makeshift yet unremarkable barrier—certainly less formidable compared to other roadblocks they’d faced. It appeared the bridge gang had dedicated more effort to welding steel plates onto their vehicles than fortifying their roadblock. Fortunately for Ben and the others, the sorry excuse for a deterrent and the gang’s ineptitude worked to their advantage.

  Joel must have been formulating a plan to deal with the highway blockage from the moment he spotted it, evident in the swift manner he leaped from the Scrambler’s seat and started unraveling the tow strap Ben had recently utilized to eliminate the last two motorcycles. Sandy brought the Blazer to a halt just as Allie slid from the driver’s seat. In the back of the Jeep, Brad stood up, vying for a position at the roll bar with Gunner, both equally intrigued by their latest challenge.

  Joel motioned for Sandy to pull ahead of the Scrambler and drive up to the spot where he was standing. Ben hopped out of the truck as Sandy crept to a stop once more at Joel’s direction, several feet away from one of the wrecked cars. Joel already had one end of the heavy-duty recovery strap looped around the banged-up sedan’s C pillar, a job made significantly easier by the lack of a rear window—or any other glass, for that matter.

  “I’m thinking we need the Blazer for this job. Don’t know if the Jeep’s got the muscle or the weight.” Joel patted the Chevy’s hood with his hand.

  “Good idea.” Ben smiled. “Looks like you’ve got this all figured out.”

  “You can help if you feel left out,” Joel joked and handed his dad the other end of the tow strap.

  Ben took the hooked end of the strap from his son and attached it to one of the tow shackles that was mounted to the Blazer’s bumper. He was proud of his son, and it made Ben feel good to see Joel using his head rather than relying on brawn to accomplish the task at hand. The sedan he’d hooked to was the smallest car in the string of wrecks, and the back end of the car was the lightest part to move, as it lacked the engine. Ben wasn’t sure Joel had actually considered these factors when choosing a vehicle to pull from the roadblock, but he liked to think he had.

  “Okay, go ahead and back it up, nice and easy. There you go.” Ben guided Sandy backward in the Blazer while Joel and Allie gave the tow strap some room as it tightened.

  “Okay, hold it there.” Ben joined his son and Allie, putting some distance between himself and the tow strap that was starting to hum and groan under the strain of the sedan’s weight.

  “All right, now give it some gas. Nice and steady,” Ben instructed.

  The top of the sedan began to roll toward them, and for a moment, Ben thought the car would flip over before it broke loose from the blacktop. The tires were long gone, and the wheels were well entrenched in the road’s surface due to the vehicle being dragged into place when the roadblock was made.

  “It’s gonna go,” Allie announced.

  Ka-chunk.

  The car popped out of the deep grooves holding the car in place, breaking off chunks of steel from the rim in the process. The noise it made sliding across the blacktop was akin to nails on a chalkboard, and it sent a shiver up Ben’s spine.

  “Oh.” Allie covered her ears.

  “There you go. Keep it up. Keep going. More… more… a little more. Okay, good. I think we can get through there.” Joel signaled the job was complete with a closed fist in the air, and the roar of the Blazer’s mighty V-8 subsided to an idle once again.

  Sandy pulled forward a couple of feet, allowing Ben to disconnect the tow strap from the bumper, while Joel unwrapped the other end. Ben made sure to inspect the freshly cleared path for anything that could possibly take out a tire and kicked a few pieces of dicey-looking debris to the side.

  “I think we’re good to go.” He nodded back at the group.

  “And what are we going to do about water? That’s something we need to think about.” Allie held up her empty Nalgene and shook it.

  “We’re pretty much out,” Joel confirmed.

  Ben stood quietly for a second, thinking about how stumbling upon the encampment had ruined their chances to top off their water and put them in a bad position from a couple of different perspectives. It was getting late, and they’d need to find a place to camp soon—but not too close—and they needed a place to get water. The Kansas River was an hour’s drive or more, depending on road conditions and any lunatics they might encounter along the way, a factor that could never be discounted. Finding trouble seemed to be the only thing they could manage to do consistently and with any amount of success today.

  Ben laid out his plan for the others. “I think our best bet is to push through to the Kansas River, maybe an hour, hour and a half of serious driving. We should be able to make good time once we get back on I-70. And that’s about ten or fifteen miles from here.”

  “The rivers seem to be trouble for us,” Sandy cautioned.

  “Yeah, we haven’t had a lot of luck with rivers and bridges.” Emma poked her head out of the Blazer’s passenger side window.

  “What choice do we have, guys? Meanwhile, we’re standing here, wasting time.” Joel paced across the recently opened path through the roadblock.

  “I hear what you’re saying.” Ben glanced at Sandy and Emma. “But Joel’s right. We need water, and that’s not going to change. And we need to get moving.”

  “So the Kansas River it is, then?” Allie interjected cheerfully, ending a conversation that was going nowhere fast.

  Under a chorus of sighs and groans, they all loaded up and prepared to pull out. They were tired, thirsty, and suffering from an adrenaline crash as the excitement of the firefight wore off. None of these things were conducive to a good mood or positive outlook. And who could blame them? Most of their days were tough ones, but this one seemed to linger, and the late start that Ben had initially dismissed as no big deal was coming back to haunt them as they ran out of daylight much too far from what he would consider an ideal place to rest.

  Ben double-checked the atlas, measuring the miles once again to make sure he’d given the others an accurate estimate of the time it would take to reach the river. There would be some night driving involved if they were going to make camp near or on the Kansas River tonight. And late nights made for hard mornings.

  Ben didn’t mind the camping all that much, although sleeping on the ground was certainly getting old. But arriving at a spot after dark always added an element of difficulty and concern to the process. Using artificial light to scout out an area to spend the night was not his preferred method of doing things. And the lack of natural light made it too easy to miss potential hazards. Not to mention, stumbling around in the dark with flashlights or under car headlights was a blatant advertisement of their location.

  If they didn’t need water so badly, Ben would have been more content to settle for someplace off the beaten path, a random spot well off the highway set back in the woods. It was unsurprising that the rivers and watersheds were attracting other survivors. But the character and ethics of these individuals were downright concerning.

  Ben stared out the window as they rode in silence, the highway stretching out before them, a winding ribbon of uncertainty. Another few miles and they’d pick up I-70 once more on the other side of Kansas City. The route they’d chosen allowed them to avoid the ravaged metropolis, but after the incident at the bridge, avoiding the city and any trouble it might hold seemed like less of a win than it should have. Ben couldn’t help but wonder if they would have been better off saving time and driving straight through. They could have been a quarter of the way through Kansas by now. Or at least preparing to confidently set up camp in a spot that had been properly vetted.

  These remained the ongoing hurdles they encountered while navigating life on the road in the aftermath of society’s collapse. Since the inception of this journey, there was no indication that circumstances would take a turn for the better, at least not in the foreseeable future. Any optimism for improvement had long been abandoned. While they were becoming more adept at handling challenges, it appeared that the difficulties were matching pace with their growing skills. That was a sobering acknowledgment, one that Ben chose not to focus on.

  He looked back at Emma. She held her book close to her face, trying to read despite the dwindling daylight.

  “Here.” Ben switched on the red light in his headlamp and handed it to her.

  “But won’t that be a waste of the battery?” Emma’s brow wrinkled.

  Ben had been strict with the kids when it came to using things unnecessarily, especially when replacing those things might not be possible. He might regret letting her use the headlamp to read later, but right now, whatever the cost, it was worth it. It had been a tough day, and although it really wasn’t that different from any of the others, Ben couldn’t bring himself to care about using a couple of batteries. They were a small price to pay for his daughter to have a little taste of what could be considered a luxury.

  Ben smiled. “I think we can make an exception tonight.”

  23

  They hadn’t been on I-70 for long when Ben spotted an old church as they were passing through one of the many small towns, another speck on the map, ravaged by fire and looting. It was astounding that the church still stood resilient amid the chaos, appearing largely untouched other than the soot stains and streaks of gray on the weathered exterior caused by nearby fires. A remarkable feat considering the absence of any discernable solar panels. Even the windows and doors were intact, an anomaly for almost any surviving structure they encountered.

  But something else about the place caught Ben’s attention—or at least piqued his curiosity. The church in Indiana, where Gunner had chased the dumpster raccoon, featured a baptismal pool. It wasn’t a large tank, but it did hold a couple hundred gallons, and despite its surface being covered with a thick film of dust, it could have passed for spring water compared to the stuff they’d been filtering from the silt-laden rivers and streams. They’d turned their noses up at the dirty water then, but in hindsight, it might have been some of the cleanest they’d discovered so far outside the Rocky Mountains.

  Checking the church for water was a risky proposition, but what wasn’t these days? And if they did manage to find water, that would mean they could camp anywhere they wanted tonight, almost. Finding clean water here also meant that they could camp sooner rather than later. Ben considered their options and made a decision before they were too far past the exit.

  “Come in, guys. Let’s pull into that church and check it out. They might have water in their baptismal tank. Remember the church in Indiana where Gunner chased the raccoon? Over.” Ben held the radio close, waiting for a response.

  Joel’s voice crackled over the two-way. “That might work. We’ll come back around to the exit. Over.”

  Ben hadn’t been quick enough, and while the Blazer could still make the turn, the Jeep would have to back up to join them.

  “Go ahead. They’ll catch up,” Ben instructed.

  Sandy was on the brakes as soon as Ben sent the message to the others, and all she had to do was cut the wheel hard to the right and steer them onto the ramp. Ben watched the Jeep for a minute to make sure it was following and could get back to the exit before he turned his attention to their goal. Sandy navigated the exit ramp while the church disappeared momentarily behind the overgrown vegetation lining the road.

  “Seems odd, doesn’t it?” Sandy remarked.

  “A little, but if we can find water, it could pay off big time and spare us from dealing with finding a campsite at the river tonight.” Ben leaned forward in his seat as they came around the corner, the church coming into full view once again.

  “It’s a shame. One of the few things I used to look forward to was finding a nice spot near water.” Sandy shook her head. “Now, not so much.”

  “Yeah, things are changing,” Ben acknowledged.

  He felt the same as Sandy, and the others would probably agree. They’d found some nice spots along the way to Maryland and back, only to have them ruined by the desperate—or, it seemed sometimes, the just plain evil remnants of society’s rejects. He expected things to get worse, but that couldn’t go on forever, could it?

  The Scrambler was right behind them now, and the two trucks finished navigating the sharp curve of the exit together, leaving them on the main drag of what was once a decent little town. The church was less than half a mile from the end of the ramp, and it didn’t take long before they were sitting in the gravel parking lot, staring at the soot-stained, clapboard-sided sanctuary. The buildings on either side were no farther than twenty yards away and had been reduced to ash. It was fitting that the church survived, seeing as how its existence was nothing short of a miracle, considering the odds.

  They sat for a minute while Ben gathered two extra magazines for the MP5 and reclaimed his headlamp from Emma. Sandy and the others could cover the outside while he went inside the church and looked around for water.

  He got out of the Blazer, closing the door gently behind him. “You guys stay put until I check the place out. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

  Joel already had his door open but stopped. “Take the radio with you. If you find water, let us know, and we can come in with the stuff. I’m guessing that we’ll still have to filter any water we find in there.”

  Ben reached into the passenger window of the Blazer, and Sandy handed him the radio. “Be careful,” she warned.

  “Always.” Ben gave Sandy and Emma a reassuring grin. He attached the radio to his belt, then answered Joel. “If there’s any water in there, we’ll definitely have to filter it.”

  He peered through the dimming twilight, his senses heightened by the growing shadows around the piles of rubble. The collapsed and burnt remains of the town provided an abundance of locations from which someone could launch an ambush. The air was thick with tension as he started for the church. The gravel crunched and crackled under his feet with each step, giving away his otherwise stealthy approach.

  He glanced back at the trucks, encouraged to see the others taking the unplanned pit stop and associated risk as seriously as him. Joel and Allie were both outside the Jeep, along with Sandy, who’d taken a position at the rear of the Blazer and was watching the road. Emma remained in the truck, while Brad did the same but stood with his back against the roll bar, a rifle in his hands.

  Stepping gingerly, Ben ascended the staircase toward the faded red double doors at the front of the building. The decrepit appearance of the structure made him take precautions about where he stepped to minimize any potential noise, well aware that their attempt at stealth had already been compromised when they pulled into the parking lot.

  Ben held the MP5 with his right hand while trying the door handle with his left. To his surprise, the knob turned, and the door creaked open several inches. Before he could see anything inside the poorly lit building, a warm draft of air laden with the smell of death stung his nostrils, causing him to take a couple of steps back.

  “Oh, man.” Ben pushed past the foul odor and stepped up to the door once more.

  “Everything okay?” Joel called from the truck in a loud whisper.

  Ben signaled to the others that he was fine but didn’t answer. There was a dead body in the church. Whether it was human or animal, he wasn’t sure, but the promise of water remained. He pressed on, wedging the door open the rest of the way with his foot, relatively certain that no one in their right mind would hide out in a place that smelled this bad.

  He held off on using the headlamp just in case he was wrong about the place being occupied. Wearing the light made him an easy target, and he’d manage without it for as long as he could. There was enough residual light slipping in through the open doorway that he could fumble his way down the aisle between the pews. Beyond the horrific odor that permeated the church, he could feel the presence of heavy dust in the air, possibly kicked up by the draft he’d caused, and he thought it a good idea to pull his shirt collar over his nose, although it did little to alleviate the stench, unfortunately.

  Once he was several feet inside the building, Ben took a moment to let his vision adjust. Remaining perfectly still, he listened for any sounds that would indicate he wasn’t alone, but he heard nothing. The temptation to utilize the headlamp was almost irresistible, but a lone skylight over the rear of the stage provided just enough light for him to locate the baptismal tank. The neat beam of remaining daylight cut through the darkness like a knife, illuminating the very thing he was looking for and nothing else inside, as if destiny had brought him here. A reward for the misery he and the others had been subjugated to today?