They had no choice in the matter tonight, though. They couldn’t afford to stop and camp again. Emma’s health depended on them reaching their destination as soon as possible. Even that was no guarantee. What if there was no medicine? What if Rita’s daughter wasn’t there? All the more reason to push through and find out. If Fort Wayne didn’t pan out, they’d have time to come up with another plan of action.

  Ben glanced in the rearview, trying to catch a glimpse of his daughter. Emma’s head was exposed from under the sleeping bag, and she appeared to be sleeping. He watched for a few moments until he saw the bag rise and fall with her breathing. The dark circles under her eyes contrasted starkly with her pale complexion, and he was suddenly more worried about her now than he had been a few minutes ago.

  Sandy reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s okay. She needs to rest. The pain reliever in the first aid kit brought her fever down a little from this morning. She’s going to be all right.”

  Ben kept his eyes on the road. “I appreciate the confidence, and you’re probably right. I’m sure it will all work out, but nothing’s going to make me feel any better until she’s got the medicine she needs.”

  “I understand.” Sandy nodded. It was one thing to say everything would be okay, but believing it was something else. And no matter how hard he tried to remain optimistic, he felt surrounded by a cloud of uncertainty that constantly dimmed that hope.

  Chapter Three

  “Now what?” Ben tapped the brakes.

  Sandy sat up straight in her seat. “I don’t see anything.” She leaned out the window as far as she could. Ben checked the speedometer and was disappointed to see they were barely breaking fifteen miles per hour. He didn’t waste any time and reached out to Joel on the radio.

  “Come in, Joel. What’s the holdup? Over.”

  “There’s an RV blocking the road. We’re gonna have to use the median to go around. But its… It’s not the usual. Well, you’ll see. Over.” Joel sounded at a loss for words, and Ben soon found out why. As the convoy of vehicles veered to the left and began to enter the tall grass and weeds that had taken over the median, the scene unfolded in front of them.

  The old Winnebago Chieftain sported a California license plate, which led Ben to believe the vehicle was headed home. What were they doing here? Maybe they were on vacation when the EMPs hit. The vehicle was different from most they had encountered on the road in that it wasn’t burnt-out or wrecked. The RV was intact, and he would have guessed it was in fairly good shape if not for the couple dozen bullet holes that riddled its exterior.

  The shot-up exterior wasn’t what worried Ben the most, though; it was the graffiti on the side. Across the old Winnebago’s flank, PATRIOT HOOLIGANS was spelled out in black paint over a hastily spray-painted skull. Ben would have preferred almost anything to seeing that name again. As they passed and were able to glimpse the front end, there was no shortage of bullet holes peppering the oversized windshield. Ben wondered if the people in the RV even fought back. Maybe they didn’t have a chance.

  Ben was glad that Emma was oblivious to all of this right now. He checked back on her again just to make sure she was still sleeping.

  He caught Sandy’s gaze as he turned back toward the road. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. The blood-soaked driver’s seat and open door told them all they needed to know. The owners were dead, and the Patriot Hooligan gang had picked the camper clean of anything valuable.

  “Oh.” Sandy put her hand over her mouth. Then he saw what she was looking at. There was a body on the shoulder of the road about twenty yards from the RV. It was one of the owners of the Winnebago, lying in a pool of blood that trailed all the way back to the open door on the camper. It was hard to tell if she had been dragged or crawled there on her own. As they passed, Ben could see that it was a woman but couldn’t make out much else. Eventually, he lost sight of the body from where he was seated.

  Sandy, however, had a front-row seat to the spectacle and continued looking.

  “Stop. Stop the truck. She moved,” Sandy blurted out.

  “What?” Ben tapped the brakes but continued letting the Blazer creep forward.

  “I just saw her move,” Sandy repeated. “We have to help her.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was stop here, but Sandy was already halfway out the door.

  “Wait a minute. Sandy!” But she was gone. Ben looked around nervously. For all he knew, this could be a trap. From the looks of the RV and the amount of blood on the ground, he assumed there was nothing they could do for the woman. But here they were, stopping anyway. Ben put the Blazer into park and raised Joel on the radio again.

  “Don’t stop here. Get down the road a half mile and wait for us there. Over.” Ben hoped Joel wouldn’t ask any questions.

  “What’s going on? Over.” Joel’s voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Just going to check something out really quick. Over.” Ben grabbed the AR-15 and clipped the radio to his side before chasing after Sandy. She’d left her gun behind and only taken the first aid kit and a water bottle.

  “Stay.” Ben pointed at Sam as he rounded the back of the Blazer. There was definitely no time to chase after a stubborn old dog right now. His main goal was to talk Sandy into climbing back into the truck and getting out of here. Everything about this felt wrong, and the voice inside his head was screaming, Danger!

  Ben caught up with Sandy and joined her on the ground, where she was kneeling next to the injured woman. He kept his head on a swivel as he searched the woods on both sides of the interstate for any signs of activity. The tall grass and weeds that grew right up the edge of the shoulder only added to the feeling of vulnerability.

  “She’s alive.” Sandy held up the woman’s head and poured water over her badly chapped lips. She coughed most of the water back up, along with a good amount of blood. She wasn’t long for this world, and there was nothing they could do for her. The help she needed far exceeded what their first aid kit could supply. And as callous as it felt to think, using any of their supplies on her was a waste of resources.

  “I just want to make her comfortable.” Sandy trickled a small amount of water into her mouth, water they might need for themselves. Sandy was fighting back tears as she tended to the woman’s needs. How was he supposed to suggest they leave her here to die alone without coming off as bad as the people who had done this to her?

  “How long ago were they here?” Ben figured he might as well try to get some intel, although he was doubtful that would happen, seeing as how the woman was barely coherent. Judging by the only partially dried blood on the ground, he guessed the attack had happened recently. They shouldn’t sit here any longer than necessary.

  The woman mouthed something, but no sound came out. Ben quickly returned to watching the nearby woods.

  “Ben,” Sandy whispered. He looked down to see Sandy lowering the woman’s head to the ground. She looked back at him and shook her head.

  “She’s gone.” Ben hoped his expression didn’t give away his relief; they could leave now. He helped Sandy to her feet and started for the Blazer, but they both froze in their tracks when they heard a voice coming from inside the RV.

  “Did you…” Sandy started.

  Ben held his finger up to his lips. “Listen.”

  This time there was no mistaking the sound of someone coughing and calling for help. Someone else was still alive in the RV.

  “Here, take this and check on Emma, please. And make sure the truck isn’t overheating. Then come back to me.” Ben handed Sandy the AR, only waiting long enough to see that she understood him before heading to the Winnebago. He caught sight of Sam in the back of the Blazer, her big pink tongue jumping up and down to the rhythm of her heavy panting. They’d been sitting still here on the blacktopped surface for almost five minutes, and without the wind rushing through the Blazer, it probably felt like an oven in there. It did out here.

  He wished they could have afforded to shut the Blazer off, but he’d rather take his chances with overheating than running the risk of having to restart the truck, should they need to make a hasty exit. He hoped the other vehicles were holding up as well under the extreme heat.

  Ben pulled his Glock from the holster and hurried to the RV’s door. He probably wouldn’t need the pistol, but he wouldn’t let his guard down. This could still be a trap. He couldn’t shake the mental image of the Patriot Hooligans hiding in the nearby woods, waiting for Joel and the others to circle back and join the Blazer, making them easy targets to capture all at once. But that wasn’t going to happen. He would make sure of it.

  “Stay put. We’re almost done here. Stay put. Over.” Ben spoke quietly. Joel was probably watching them through his binoculars, which meant he probably saw that Ben had his weapon drawn.

  “Roger that. Let me know if you need help. Over,” Joel responded. Satisfied the others would stay away, Ben prepared to enter the Winnebago.

  Chapter Four

  Ben paused at the camper door and listened while trying to steal a glimpse through one of the windows while he waited for Sandy to come back. He needed her to keep an eye on things out here before he was willing to let the woods out of his sight.

  “She’s fine. I told her to stay down, though.” Sandy joined him at the door.

  “Good, thanks. And the truck?”

  “Running a little hotter than normal, but not in the red,” Sandy answered.

  “Okay, I’m going in to take a look. You watch the woods. If you see anything at all, let me know, then get to the driver’s seat and be ready to go.” Ben made eye contact with her.

  “Got it.” Sandy turned toward the section of woods closest to them. Ben entered slowly, trying to check the red zones of the RV, which meant every possible spot a person could hide. He spotted a body on the floor between the two captain’s chairs up front, but he needed to clear the rest of the RV first. He didn’t want to invest a lot of time in this. Plus, the place already smelled of death, but he didn’t want any surprises, either. He checked the tiny bathroom and then the bedroom at the very back.

  It didn’t take long to search the RV. Every cabinet and storage compartment had been opened and gone through. The place was a mess but otherwise empty, except for the crisp beams of sunlight that shot through the bullet holes in the body of the camper. There was no one here except the driver. Ben ran back to the front of the RV and knelt near the man. He was dying. In fact, Ben was surprised he was still breathing, considering the number of gunshot wounds visible in his upper body alone. A quick glance at the driver’s area revealed at least a dozen holes through the sheet metal and windshield. The RV had been hit hard and heavy by the Hooligans. The gang knew these people had supplies or something worth taking. Either that or they were just a bloodthirsty bunch of bandits with ammunition to burn. Ben’s bet was on the latter.

  Helping the man move into a more comfortable half-upright position, he called for Sandy to toss him the water bottle from the doorway.

  Ben held the bottle and dispensed it slowly. “What happened here?”

  The guy looked to be in his thirties, like the woman. They were obviously a couple who had been attacked by the Hooligans, but now that they were face to face, Ben found himself suddenly more sympathetic to their situation.

  The man started to respond to the question but launched into a fit of coughing. Ben moved back, pulling the Nalgene away and trying to avoid the spatters of blood that came out along with most of the water.

  “Easy, easy.” Ben looked around for something to wipe the blood from the driver’s mouth and found a piece of clothing. “Can you tell me when it happened?” If he didn’t get some information from this poor guy soon, it would be too late.

  “Th… Th… This morning.” The man pulled at Ben’s hand holding the bottle. Ben offered him more water, but he pushed it away. He wanted Ben to come closer. He was trying to say something else.

  “Th… They took her.” The words caught Ben off guard, and he glanced back at Sandy, who’d failed to hold back her tears any longer. Ben turned back to the man. His eyes were quiet now and his hand fell limply to his body when Ben moved it from his arm. He was relieved, both because the guy’s suffering was over and because he didn’t have to tell him what happened to his wife, although he was fully prepared to lie about that.

  “He’s gone. Let’s get out of here.” Ben backed away from the body and joined Sandy outside. They’d pushed their luck too far for his comfort. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the RV. “Come on. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  She resisted for a moment, helplessly stuck under the spell of this horrible display of barbarism. For a few moments longer, she stared at the camper and the woman on the ground but eventually gave way to Ben’s insistence that they move. He scanned the surrounding woods, sure the Patriot Hooligans would come screaming out from the bushes at any moment.

  “Go ahead and get moving. We’re on our way. There’s nothing here. Over.” Ben sat the radio down as he and Sandy’s eyes met and they both slid into their seats.

  “I guess that’s true now. Nothing here.” Sandy stowed the AR-15 and leaned against the door with her arms crossed as Ben accelerated. The encounter had shaken her up a bit; that much was obvious. It had rattled his cage a little, too—he wasn’t afraid to admit that much. It was easy to get caught up in worrying about the kids, as well as Sandy and the others who had joined them, so much so that sometimes it made him believe nothing else mattered.

  “What was it?” Emma asked.

  “We were just checking for survivors. There weren’t any,” Ben answered. It wasn’t a lie, but there was no need to go into detail about what happened. It wouldn’t do his daughter any good, and in her condition, she didn’t need the added stress of wondering if they would be the next victims of the Patriot Hooligans. Ben was worried, too, but living under the constant threat of attack was nothing new.

  Sometimes he felt indifferent to the outside world and the plights of others, but these dangers were hard to deny when he was forced to confront a situation like that, up close and personal. Ben found it easier to deal with the guilt of being callous than to think about the suffering going on around them in any great detail. Easier, but not comfortable by any means. When living was hard like this, though, he mostly thought that was for the best. Being able to detach from the emotional aspect as much as possible kept him sharp, and as long as he could keep moving, he was fine. That was what he told himself, anyway.

  But it was those moments, like the one back there at the RV, moments when a total stranger made an impression in a way that couldn’t be unseen or unheard, no matter how much he would have liked to forget. That type of thing changed a person, even after all the other tragic things they’d witnessed. They couldn’t save, let alone even help, most of the people they ran across out here on the road. For some, like the unlucky couple in the RV, their fate had been sealed long before Ben and the others happened by.

  He watched as the Winnebago disappeared. In a couple of minutes, he and Sandy caught up to the others, and before long, they were back behind the Scout. He considered it extremely fortunate that the unplanned stop had gone as well as it had. That was the perfect opportunity for an ambush. He thought about what the dying man had said. The attack happened this morning sometime, which meant there was a chance they had just missed the Patriot Hooligans. They were out here on this highway right now, patrolling the road for their next victims.

  There was also no more wondering about how a meeting with the gang would unfold. They didn’t seem interested in taking anyone alive, and from the looks of the woman, being captured alive might be a worse fate than being shot to death. Of course, they would never know what really happened back there, but one thing was for sure: the Patriot Hooligans wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone they encountered.

  “I don’t understand why… How could people do that to somebody?” Sandy surprised him.

  Before answering, Ben looked back to see if Emma was paying attention. “They aren’t people. They’re animals. And they did it for whatever they could steal from the RV. That’s what it’s come down to. It’s the same everywhere we go.” Ben spoke quietly, hoping the air rushing in the windows would make it hard for Emma to hear. He wasn’t trying to keep things a secret from her, but she didn’t need to know exactly how much he’d given up on people in general. He was supposed to be optimistic and try to boost morale whenever possible. But he didn’t have the energy to sell that lie at the moment.

  “That poor woman, they dragged her out of the RV and killed her, didn’t they? I thought she crawled there on her own at first, but she didn’t. Why?” Sandy continued staring out the window.

  “I don’t know. I guess they tried to take her captive, but she put up a fight and they decided it wasn’t worth the effort.”

  “So they’re around here somewhere, maybe close.” Sandy suddenly looked nervous and began checking the road behind them. She was right, but what choice did they have? If they pulled over and hid somewhere, then what? They couldn’t stay off the road forever. And they didn’t have time to wait it out, not with Emma looking like she was. Ben checked on his daughter again, and she caught him this time. She must have read the look on his face, the one that said, I’ve never seen you look this pale before in your life and I’m a little scared for you. She forced a smile.

  “Drink?” Ben smiled back. Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed a Nalgene from the pile.

  “What if we catch up to them or they pass us heading back the other way? Should we even be out on the road right now?” Sandy adjusted her position in the seat.

  “We can’t afford to wait around, especially when we don’t know what we’re waiting for. We don’t know we’d be any less likely to run into them later. And we’re close. Just on the other side of Akron, we can leave the interstate behind for a couple days, maybe.” Ben hadn’t said it out loud yet, and when he did, the magnitude of what they were doing sank in. They were about to head off in a direction that would probably take them a couple days’ travel from Cloverdale and I-70 West.