After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Ben found a rock halfway between camp and the river and sat down. He was still foggy-eyed, but the expeditious onset of dawn and the cooler air made it possible to appreciate the morning for what it was. He pulled off the headlamp and ran a hand through his hair, listening to the waking birds and the rhythm of the flowing water. Unlike most of the countryside they were traveling through, there was no shortage of water here to nourish the plants and animals that called the river home.

  As the amount of natural light increased and the caffeine cleared the cobwebs from his head, Ben mustered the energy to get up and wandered closer to the water’s edge, inspecting the clarity of the river. It was brown water, like what they’d encountered at most of the places they stopped, but otherwise, it looked clean by Midwest standards. At least they’d be leaving here with all the water they could carry. They would need fuel soon after breaking camp, and considering the less-than-half-full gas tank in the Blazer, Ben imagined they’d have to find a place to stop within an hour or so after pulling onto the interstate. But that was a minor concern, and it paled in comparison to his worries about heading into dryer areas.

  Ben had marked the atlas with various points along the journey where they could potentially replenish their water supply, but when it came to water resources, the most challenging stretch lay ahead. To say they needed to be conservative with water usage today was an understatement. And a challenging expectation if the prevailing high temperatures persisted. However, Ben remained optimistic that the cooler morning air might endure. At the very least, it indicated a potential shift to a more favorable climate as they approached the Rocky Mountains.

  He heard the jingle of Gunner’s tags before the big brown dog crested the riverbank to greet him. Sandy was several paces behind Gunner, with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand and a smile on her face.

  “Good morning. This is a welcome change.” Sandy held her hand out in the air.

  “Good morning. It actually feels nice for a change,” Ben replied.

  Sandy joined him at the water’s edge and sipped from her cup. “Kids are moving. Allie and Joel are making more coffee and seem to be in high spirits. I told them all to go ahead and get packed up before starting on breakfast, though.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Ben felt the tension in the air and wasn’t sure if it was real or self-induced.

  Sandy cast a quick glance back at their camp, then proceeded to plant a swift peck on Ben’s cheek. But their moment was abruptly interrupted as Sam barreled over the embankment, startling them both. Laughter ensued, and they both let out sighs of relief. Ben felt the tension he had been harboring dissipate, realizing in that instant that his worries were unfounded. Sandy was low-key, as the kids would put it, but that came as no surprise, really. The character trait was one of her many attributes he found attractive.

  Ben wanted to kiss her back, but Brad’s arrival changed his plans.

  “Morning. Are we trying to leave here soon or do we have time to fish?” Brad kicked a rock in his path.

  “We really should get on the road. Tonight, maybe. If we have a decent day,” Ben added.

  Brad looked disappointed but also like he’d got the answer he expected. With no reply or argument, Ben’s youngest shrugged and turned back toward camp.

  “Don’t forget, there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to fish when we get home. In fact, I’m counting on it,” Ben added.

  “Yeah, I know.” Brad didn’t stop or bother turning around.

  “I feel bad for the kid.” Ben shook his head. “Not like I have a choice. We really do need to get moving before any locals show up. There’s plenty of tire tracks around here. We’re not the only ones using this place.”

  “He’s a sweet kid. It’ll all be worth it when we get home. And he knows you’re doing what’s best for him. For all of us.” Sandy squeezed his hand and smiled.

  “Thanks.” Ben downed the last of his coffee and squeezed her hand back. “Well, should we go give the kids a hand?”

  “I guess we should.” Sandy finished her coffee and led the way.

  Back at camp, Ben saw that the kids had followed Sandy’s instructions and had all their gear, including his tent and Sandy’s, bagged and stacked by the trucks. Allie and Joel were standing over the stove, adding apple slices to a pot of oatmeal, while Brad and Emma played with the dogs. Emma had made it part of her morning routine to tire the dogs out as best she could with an old tennis ball Sam had brought with her from Jack’s. Tired dogs made for somewhat peaceful travel and gave Emma the upper hand when it came to claiming her spot on the Blazer’s back seat.

  Breakfast was simple, and they ate quickly. Ben was worried that the others would want to linger here by the river for a while, but that wasn’t the case. Being this close to home was a great motivator, and the others seemed equally anxious to get back on the road. Ben and Sandy packed up the trucks while the kids topped off their water reserves and replaced what little of the precious resource they’d used this morning while cleaning up, making breakfast, or brewing coffee. Ben reminded them to let the dogs drink their fill as well before they left. That hadn’t worked out so well last time, but the road ahead would be hot and dry, so the choice was a gamble. But there was no telling when the next opportunity for a limitless supply of water would present itself.

  Ben approached the Jeep as Joel sat behind the wheel with the engine idling. “What do you have left in the tank?”

  “About half,” Joel answered.

  Ben stooped down and eyed the ground under the gas tank patch. “Still holding. Good. Let’s try to make it past Topeka before we stop. I think that’s doable?” He reached into the Scrambler, giving Gunner a rub on his head, then did the same to Brad playfully.

  “Dad,” Brad protested.

  “Sounds good.” Joel pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes as the rising sun crested the bridge railing, pushing back the thin margin of shade they were enjoying.

  Ben started for the Blazer but stopped and placed his hand on Joel’s arm. “I’m proud of you, Joel. Both of you.” His eyes cut toward Allie, then back to Joel. “Couldn’t do this without you.”

  “Thanks.” Joel fought off a grin.

  Allie nodded and smiled at Ben. “Thanks.”

  Under the sudden assault of the sun’s scorching rays, Ben felt the remnants of the semi-cool morning vanishing impossibly fast. It served as an immediate and harsh reminder of the challenging conditions that awaited them today.

  Ben took his place behind the wheel of the Blazer, joining Sandy, Emma, and the eager dogs already in position. With a wave, he signaled Joel to lead the way, following the Jeep across the uneven terrain.

  The vast, dusty fields stretched out before them, revealing failed crops as far as the eye could see. This expansive desolation stood in contrast to the comparatively lush oasis of their campsite. In spite of their barren and brown surroundings, Ben was feeling good about their start. It was far too early to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. Breaking camp and knocking out the morning’s chores had gone smoother than he’d anticipated. And most importantly, they’d done it all without interference from outside forces, which was always a plus.

  Over the train tracks and up onto the westbound ramp to I-70, they soon found themselves cruising down the highway at respectable speeds. The burned-out wrecks that littered the interstate almost passed without notice. No longer of interest, the soot-covered shells of abandoned vehicles almost seemed like they belonged or, at the very least, were expected. Ben gave a three-car pileup plenty of room as he drove around the accident, avoiding a scattered mess of broken parts and glass fragments, temporarily giving them a clear view of the path ahead.

  The highway stretched out before them, straight and featureless yet full of uncertainty. This morning, though, he found hope in that uncertainty, and with each wreck passed or mile marker checked off, the satisfaction that they were making their way home dulled the feelings of dread that usually overshadowed his ambitions at the start of a new day on the road.

  28

  Making their way around Topeka, Kansas, had been as uneventful as they could have hoped for. Other than spotting several people searching the ruins of the city for anything of value, Ben and the others encountered no one. Ben hadn’t expected to pass through without incident, but that was part of the reason they hadn’t stopped for gas in Topeka, although they couldn’t hold out for fuel much longer.

  They still had plenty of water from their filtering efforts at camp last night and this morning, although they weren’t into the true heat of the day just yet. At the risk of being overly cautious, Ben had anticipated stopping at every and any place that offered them a chance to top off their reserves—within reason, of course. His primary goal, as always, remained burning through as many miles as possible, but he knew what lay ahead.

  After Topeka, the Kansas River veered north, snaking away from the westbound interstate, leaving them miles from a reliable water source. The muddy waters of the river would eventually cut to the south and cross their path once more near Junction City as a smaller tributary, labeled the Smokey Hill River on his atlas.

  If these weather conditions persisted, they’d have to carefully plan water stops with the same diligence as their fuel stops. And there was no reason to believe there was any relief in sight from the drought. Ben didn’t put a lot of hope in the smaller tributaries holding up to the severe weather. He’d noticed the receding water levels at their last couple of stops, and he only expected to see more of the same as they moved west.

  Ben checked the rearview mirror. He was still having a tough time believing they’d slipped away from camp this morning without any trouble. That was exactly how yesterday started, and the day had become a nightmare. He was doing his best not to overthink their situation, but at this point, he expected trouble around every bend in the road. And whenever they went for any discernable length of time without running into an obstacle or group of people who meant them harm, he couldn’t help but grow increasingly suspect with each passing mile.

  One positive attribute about this part of the country for their purposes was the vast expanses of flat, open spaces, which allowed them to see for miles in every direction at times. Their visibility would improve with time, at least until they hit the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, although that was little consolation when weighed against the harsh conditions they faced. The sparse, mostly dead agricultural landscape also lacked opportunities for shade.

  They’d seen fewer and fewer stands of tall trees along the roadway, and although the sporadic clusters of forest didn’t provide much reprieve from the sun thanks to their dying foliage, the brief spots of shade helped alleviate the sense that they were being cooked alive. Ben couldn’t imagine how discouraging things would be without the thermal paint coating the vehicles’ roofs and hoods.

  Ben noticed Emma taking a big drink from her half-full Nalgene. They’d slipped into a bad habit when it came to staying hydrated: drinking the water when it was still relatively cool from being freshly filtered at the source. Wrapping the bottles in towels helped insulate the durable Lexan containers from the unrelenting heat, but no matter what measures they tried, they were left with warm, sometimes downright hot water within a couple of hours after topping off their supply.

  They all knew this situation was unavoidable and anticipated the degradation of their drinking water, which in turn prompted them to drink heavily at the start of each day and get as much water in as they could before it became unpalatable. That wasn’t a bad practice in harsh conditions, and so far, it had kept them well-hydrated for the most part. But with places to gather water growing scarcer by the mile, their habits would have to change if the water they could carry was going to last between stops.

  Ben cringed as Emma emptied the remains of her container into a bowl for Bajer and Sam. The dogs took turns lapping up the finite resource in a matter of seconds, with Sam licking the bowl dry until she was convinced it had nothing more to give.

  “We’re going to need to be careful with the water, Em. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to find more,” Ben reminded his daughter.

  “I know, but they’re thirsty,” she argued.

  “I know. We all are. Just try and limit what you give them. Okay? They’ll be all right,” Ben added.

  “Okay,” Emma agreed with a sigh.

  Sandy held up the map and pointed to a location near Junction City that Ben had already circled with a pencil. “Water? But gas first, I guess, somewhere around here, maybe. We must be running low by now.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been looking for a place since Topeka.” Ben lifted his hand and eyed the Blazer’s fuel gauge. It had just recently ticked below the quarter-tank mark. “But I’m worried about the water. Have you noticed levels have been getting progressively lower the farther west we travel?”

  “I noticed the exposed sandbars at the river this morning. You could tell it’s normally much higher, but there hasn’t been much rain, and when we do get it, it’s all at once and done.” Sandy stared out the window as they passed a field consisting of row upon row of dead corn plants.

  Ben considered the landscape to be barren and desolate a few days ago, but what they were witnessing outside their windows made the previously seen browns and pale greens of overgrown vegetation choking the roadside seem lush. Due to the drought conditions, the weeds here had failed to take advantage of the absent road maintenance crews and were struggling to reach past knee-high. That boded well for reading signs and highway markers but not for finding water. He doubted anything had grown more than a few inches since they passed through here on their way to Maryland.

  “Come in, guys. What town were we stopping in again? Brad spilled water on the paper you gave me—” Joel was interrupted by his brother.

  “It was an accident,” Brad interjected.

  “Over,” Joel finished, his frustration with Brad evident.

  But all Ben heard was “spilled water.” Today was not the day for that, accident or not.

  He tried not to think about how much water Brad had spilled and replied, ignoring the boys’ argument, “Junction City, but we need fuel first and soon. What’s your level? Over.”

  “We’re still looking pretty good somehow. Still above a quarter tank,” Joel answered.

  Ben held the radio by his face but didn’t answer right away. That didn’t make any sense. The Jeep had gone from losing fuel to making it somehow. Impossible. Something was wrong.

  “That’s not right. You should be close to empty by now. We are. Over,” Ben replied, locking eyes with Sandy as the two shared a confused look.

  “Uh, well, now we’re almost empty after tapping the gauge. I guess it was stuck. Over,” Joel reported.

  Ben let out a sigh as his anxiety returned. They needed to find a place fast. For all he knew, the Scrambler’s gauge was still broken, and the Jeep might not even have what the gauge was reading currently. He regretted not stopping before Topeka now, but he’d been so determined to make up for lost time that he’d decided they could wait. Pushing the envelope when it came to fuel was foolish, a lesson he should have learned by now.

  “Come in. The next gas station you see, stop. Unless it looks really bad. Over,” Ben instructed.

  Sucking fuel from the bottom of an antique Scrambler’s tank was not a good idea, and they needed to find gas before this developed into a bigger, more serious problem. The Jeep could get them home without a fuel gauge, but not without an engine. The empty jerry cans only made the situation more dire.

  Several miles passed with everyone on the edge of their seats as they probed the horizon for any signs of a gas station. Eventually, Joel reported that they’d spotted the remains of a QuikTrip convenience store and gas station on the opposite side of the highway. Ben instructed Joel to lead the way and proceeded to follow the Jeep through the median and across the eastbound lanes, where they turned into the deceleration lane leading to the gas station. In the parking lot, they made the customary lap around the place, looking for anything suspicious, but they saw nothing.

  Ben was more interested in the nearby structures than he was worried about possible dangers from within the ravaged shell of the gas station. Most of the roof was missing. The charred truss had somehow survived and looked to be hanging on by a thread, making the place a deathtrap for anyone desperate enough to venture inside. Ben imagined the whole thing would come crashing down with the next decent breeze.

  On the second time around the parking lot, Joel headed for the fuel tank risers poking out of the asphalt toward the back of the lot. Ben watched the Jeep slowly roll to a stop several yards from where they needed to park to extract gas from the tanks, and he could tell something was wrong.

  Joel raised both hands above the roll bar, clearly frustrated about something. “I think we’re out,” he shouted loud enough for Ben to hear him over the Blazer’s exhaust.

  Ben inched up to the rear of the Scrambler. “Stay put and put it in neutral.”

  Ben maneuvered the Blazer’s push bar against the Scrambler’s rear-mounted tire gently and began to push. The Jeep started rolling, and as soon as they had enough momentum, Ben let off the gas and watched the kids coast the rest of the way. He parked alongside them and turned the Chevy off. Ben would have sought shade while Joel and Allie fueled up, but there was none. This place had lost its fuel island canopy to a runaway eighteen-wheeler that leveled the structure, leaving a crumpled mess of metal scraps that resembled discarded aluminum foil. The truck wound up half buried in the car wash at the opposite corner of the lot.

  “I think I’m just going to stay in the truck unless you need me. I don’t think the dogs care about getting out here, either,” Emma announced.