Zip!

  Another round sailed overhead, and Ben dropped below the grass for a moment before returning fire, but his heart sank when he pulled the trigger and heard the dull click of the firing pin. He was out of ammunition and too far away from the shooter for the Glock to be anything more than a slight discouragement to his attacker’s advances. Ben glanced back at the trucks to try and gauge his chances if he made a run for it and was surprised to see Joel walking toward him, wearing his plated vest and carrying the burly M249.

  “Get down,” Joel shouted.

  Ben threw himself back into the ditch as the light machine gun started to spit rounds in his general direction. He hugged the ditch bank tightly, listening to the bark of the weapon and zing of the rounds passing overhead as Joel laid down an impressive barrage of covering fire. Not wanting Joel’s diversion to go to waste, Ben started crawling toward the vehicle, careful to stay low. The SAW rattled through its belt-fed rounds in short bursts. Joel had listened to his dad and was operating the weapon in a manner that allowed him to maintain control. And with Ben caught in the middle, that was a good thing.

  At the top of the ditch bank, Ben rolled to the left in an attempt to get out of Joel’s line of fire so he could get back on his feet and run for the trucks. However, the sudden cessation of gunfire from Joel’s direction startled him. He looked up to see Joel standing motionless, the SAW hanging loosely at his side, its barrel emitting thin wisps of smoke.

  “It’s over,” Joel declared, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and exhaustion.

  Ben stood up and watched the blood-soaked body of a man tumble to the ground from behind the hole-ridden utility pedestal. The man’s rifle fell from his grip and bounced off the blacktop, splintering the stock. The clatter of the fallen rifle shattered the tense silence, a stark reminder of the violent confrontation that had just unfolded.

  “Thanks. You okay?” Ben asked. It wasn’t the first time his son had killed someone, and it wouldn’t be the last, but Ben wasn’t sure what else to say in the moment, although the words he’d found seemed inadequate. He knew the weight of what Joel had just done—the enormity of the sacrifice he had made to protect them both. There was a very real possibility that Joel had saved his life.

  Joel remained rooted to the spot, his demeanor betraying no discernible emotion. Ben approached his son, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he said softly, hoping to guide them both away from the harrowing scene and toward the promise of safety and respite. They had survived, but the echoes of the encounter would undoubtedly linger in their memories for a long time to come.

  Ben took the time to recoup the ammunition links that had been expelled from the weapon. He couldn’t recover them all in the tall grass, but with Joel’s help, they managed to collect most of the pieces. When he and Joel finally reached the running trucks, the girls were waiting outside, weapons in hand and ready to join the fight. Brad and Emma remained inside their respective vehicles but looked no less interested or prepared than the others.

  “How’s Sam?” Ben asked, hoping to avoid talking about how close he’d gotten to being trapped in the ditch with no ammunition.

  “She’s limping on the same leg she hurt last time, but otherwise, she seems all right.” Allie reached into the back of the Blazer and gave Sam a couple of reassuring pats on the head.

  “We better get moving. There could be more of them,” Ben suggested.

  He wasn’t sure if there were any more bad guys left, and even if there were, Joel’s display with the M249 was probably enough to discourage further aggression. But there was no reason to stand around here in the blistering heat. Everyone agreed and broke away, loading into the trucks with minimal small talk about what had just happened. Ben returned the SAW to the Blazer’s cargo area and covered it with a towel while Emma encouraged Sam to drink some water. His decision to add the weapon to their already overloaded truck had turned out to be a good one. He wished all the choices he made were that clear.

  He was glad they’d made it through another incident no worse for the wear, aside from Sam’s leg, but he was embarrassed he’d allowed himself to get into a position like that. This would teach him to go off half-cocked without a plan. Once he knew foul play was involved, he and Joel should have geared up before going after the captured dog, although if they had taken the time to grab extra magazines or anything else, they might have been too late. Out here on the road, there was never a shortage of instances that made Ben second-guess his actions, but he could at least take comfort in knowing those actions had brought Sam back to them today.

  Ben took a minute to inspect the improved gas tank patch and was impressed at the lack of fuel dripping from the undercarriage. He kept his enthusiasm over the repair in check, though. The pessimist in him questioned how the melted rubber door flange would hold up. There was no telling when the Jeep would start leaking fuel again, but until that happened, they could finally rack up some miles.

  Sandy smiled. “Really setting a record pace today.”

  He knew her well enough by now to know that she was only trying to lighten the mood and that she was as disappointed as he was about their progress—or lack thereof.

  Ben checked his watch. “I think we can still make the Kansas state line before dark.”

  He was trying to stay positive about salvaging what was left of the day. However, he was also being honest. They’d wasted a couple of hours here recovering Sam, but they weren’t far from the border. If it wasn’t for their northern detour around Kansas City, they would have crossed the state line already. Of course, driving straight through the distressed city might have earned them far more trouble than a stolen dog.

  With a sense of newfound urgency, Ben mapped out their next steps, considering their options and the potential risks that lay ahead. The delay here had cost them more than time. In spite of topping off all their containers this morning, they’d already consumed nearly half their supply of drinking water.

  “Stay on 10?” Sandy pointed out a sign on the side of the road as she increased speed behind the Scrambler.

  Ben nodded. “Yep. All the way into Excelsior Springs. Then look for 69.”

  There were other water sources along the route they were using to avoid Kansas City, so there was no need for concern yet. And there was no way he could restrict their water consumption in this heat without risking dehydration. His goal for the day had been to reach deep inside Kansas. Now he’d be happy with making the border and finding a safe place to spend the night with unpolluted water.

  Ben settled into the passenger seat, allowing the warm rush of air through the window to cool him as it dried the sweat from his skin. They couldn’t afford many more setbacks, not with their deteriorating physical condition. Despite their attempts to maintain a steady intake of food and water, the relentless interference from external threats had disrupted their routine, making it difficult to attend to their basic needs.

  “You really think we’ll reach Kansas by dark?” Sandy asked.

  “We’ll make it,” Ben reassured himself, his voice ringing with resolve. With a glance at Sandy, then Emma, he offered a faint but reassuring smile. They had come too far to let anything stand in their way now.

  13

  With each passing mile, Ben grappled with concerns that he couldn’t bring himself to voice. The discouraging possibility that they’d fail to reach home within the next couple of days weighed heavily on his mind, a burden he did his best to hide from the others. The longer they remained on the road, the more their chances of success seemed to dwindle, along with their diminishing physical and mental states. There were times when he convinced himself it didn’t matter how long it took them to reach Durango, but he had clarity after this afternoon’s skirmish. They couldn’t maintain this pace indefinitely.

  At first glance, everyone appeared to be holding it together, exhibiting confidence and resilience. Yet beneath the surface, Ben discerned subtle shifts in their demeanor. They were all weary, worn down by the relentless journey that had taken a toll on their bodies and spirits. Ben couldn’t shake the fear that their ability to adapt and overcome was wearing thin, their capacity to recover from the ceaseless setbacks nearing its breaking point.

  “Maybe we can find a place you guys can change?” Sandy guided the Blazer around the back end of a charred and paint-blistered station wagon that was protruding out past the shoulder into the right lane.

  “Yeah, I suppose I could use a change,” Ben admitted.

  “Stinky.” Emma held her nose and waved her hand in the air dramatically. “You guys have windows at least.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out for someplace,” Ben promised half-heartedly.

  Stopping was the last thing on his mind now that they were finally back on the highway, but his mud-encrusted clothing was far from comfortable and the foul odor made the interior of the Blazer smell like a swamp. The pungent aroma of rotting organic material was almost suffocating, making the usual wet dog smell inside the truck seem like a fragrant breeze.

  He was sure Joel was anxious to shed his filthy clothes as well. Ben had become so acquainted with living in a state of constant disarray and filth that he was starting to grow accustomed to it. For someone like him, who normally went out of his way to strive for organization and neatness, life on the road was a challenge beyond the obvious complications.

  The need to chew away at the miles separating them from home made pulling over for any reason, regardless of the significance, feel like a waste of time. Ben liked to try and stop when they could accomplish more than one thing, but this time, there was nothing else that could be accomplished unless they found someplace with water. That wasn’t a dire situation yet, although replenishing their water reserves was never a bad idea when the opportunity presented itself. After Sam’s ordeal, she consumed and spilled close to a full Nalgene. They didn’t have that much water to spare, but it felt inhumane to deny the exhausted dog some much-needed sustenance after what she’d been through.

  Ben swallowed the last of his water and handed the Nalgene back to Emma so she could stash it with the other empty containers. If they were going to stop, they might as well make it worth their while by drinking their fill and doing what little they could to alleviate the effects of the sweltering heat.

  Ben had been studying a spot on the atlas where the Missouri River intersected with their route once again. One of the biggest downsides to avoiding big cities that were anchored around major watersheds like the Missouri River was the necessity to cross twice the number of bridges. While this sounded like a minor inconvenience on the surface, the reality was far more serious. Outside the chance of encountering a bridge clogged with wrecks or, as they’d seen in some places, one that had been completely destroyed, the major waterways attracted other travelers, most of whom were less than friendly.

  Ben likened the significant water crossings to a rare water source on the African plains.. Weak and strong, predator or prey, everyone needed water to survive, and as resources literally dried up, the apparent locations to get water were becoming increasingly crowded. He was genuinely shocked that last night’s campsite hadn’t led to an encounter with someone.

  “Here, I think. We’re not too far now.” Ben held the atlas so Sandy and Emma could both see the location.

  “How long will it take us to get there?” Emma asked.

  Ben looked at the Blazer’s gauges, taking note of their current speed. “Another hour, maybe.”

  “Well, at least that’s something to look forward to.” Sandy forced a smile.

  “I can take over driving from there, too, if you need me to.” Ben had already made up his mind to resume his favorite position and was just planting the seed so she wouldn’t argue with him when the time came.

  “That sounds good to me.” Sandy’s quick and agreeable response was unexpected.

  Ben smiled back at her. He’d be more than happy to take the wheel. He found riding in the passenger seat boring, and at this stage of the trip, he refused to let himself sleep. Things could change in a hurry, and he considered staying alert and attentive to their surroundings as crucial to their survival and overall success.

  “I wish I was old enough to drive,” Emma huffed, letting herself fall back into the rear seat, where she resumed helping her dad organize and reassemble the ammunition belt for the SAW.

  “You’ll be old enough before you know it,” Sandy remarked.

  Emma didn’t respond, but Sandy’s comment was food for thought. Given the current state of things, would it be such a bad idea to teach the younger kids how to drive? It was something they would need to learn eventually, and if things took a turn for the worse, sooner rather than later wouldn’t hurt. Jack had let them both drive his tractor around the farm and the Jeep in the off-road vehicle zone on the beach of the national seashore where he duck-hunted.

  Perhaps the heat had more of a grip on Ben than he realized; it was starting to affect his judgment. Was he being irrational for considering it reasonable to teach a ten- and twelve-year-old how to drive? In contrast to some of the other skills the younger kids had been unfortunately compelled to acquire, introducing them to driving seemed relatively mild and innocuous. After all, Ben had permitted Brad to ride unsafely in the back of the Scrambler, on a seat mostly composed of ammunition cans, for almost the entire journey across the country. He’d given up hope of winning father-of-the-year long ago. If Casey ever found out about half the things the kids had been through under his watch, she’d kill him herself. Of course, that would never happen, but for the first time in his life, he wished she was still around to give him a hard time, for his kids’ sake.

  “You okay?” Sandy asked.

  Ben straightened up in the seat and leaned toward the window, taking full advantage of the incoming air. “Yeah, just thinking. That’s all.”

  He picked up the radio—it was still coated with a thin film of mud from the ditch—and raised the Jeep, eager to occupy his time with a new topic. “Come in. How’s the patch holding up? Over.”

  A few seconds passed before Brad popped his hand above his makeshift seat and gave a thumbs-up.

  “So far, so good,” Allie answered. “I’ve been watching it, and we’re a little below three-quarters of a tank, but that’s about where it should be, I think. Over.”

  “Great. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on the next pit stop. Another thirty miles or so and we’ll pick up 435, then the bridge a few miles after that. We’re planning a stop for water and a change of clothes. Over,” Ben stated.

  “Sounds good. Over,” Allie’s voice crackled back.

  With a few hours of daylight remaining, they were less than fifty miles away from the river and the Missouri-Kansas border. They’d deal with whatever they found at the river when the time came, but he couldn’t help feeling optimistic about their progress despite the late start and problematic fuel stop. Then again, maybe that was just the remaining high he felt from surviving another harrowing ordeal. After the river crossing into Kansas, they’d be a mere ten miles, give or take, from reconnecting with I-70.

  The big interstate would carry them all the way into Colorado until they hit Burlington or Limon and veered south on 24 toward Colorado Springs. Ben wasn’t exactly sure of the path they’d take once they reached their home state. That largely depended on the availability of water. Kansas was vast, and the drive through the Great Plains state would be hot and dry if the current drought continued. But on the bright side, there were only two more pages of atlas before Durango was on the map.

  14

  Water was on Ben’s mind these days almost as much as fuel for the trucks. The farther west and south they went, the hotter and dryer it was becoming. This wasn’t unexpected, but it was no fun to experience from the passenger seat of a rolling steel box that could have passed for an oven. The heat-reflective paint had helped, though, and Ben couldn’t imagine driving through the hottest part of the day without it. Fortunately, the sun was on its way down, which felt like a bittersweet victory today.

  Relief from the exhausting heat was close at hand, but so was the end of safe driving hours. The temptation to push their luck and press on into the night was always there and only seemed more attractive as they closed in on Durango. Ben resisted mentioning the idea to Sandy, but not because he thought she might shoot it down. He was worried she might be game to travel at night, and that would be all the encouragement he’d need to make what he knew was a bad decision.

  If they pulled an all-nighter, stopping only for gas or as they needed to for other unavoidable necessities, they could be in the Rockies tomorrow. That was an invigorating thought. Ben could almost smell the cool churning water aerating over boulders as it tumbled through the mountains, the fresh scent of cedar and pine punctuating the air.

  “There it is, the 435. I see the exit,” Sandy stated.

  A few seconds later, the radio chirped to life, and Allie announced she and Joel had a visual on the exit as well.

  “Roger that. We see it. Take the south exit if you can. Over,” Ben responded.

  They could no longer afford to assume exit ramps and turns were clear and free of blockages, not with the roadside weeds and grass reaching heights that threatened to block signs and make every corner a blind one. It was hard to believe road maintenance had ceased only a few weeks ago. The overgrown conditions looked as though they were the result of several months’ worth of neglect. By the end of summer, even the interstates would be tough to navigate unless a person knew their way. They were lucky to have the atlas.

  Ben eyed the curve of the ramp from the overpass as they crossed Route 435 below them. It looked clear, but signage and a badly burnt semitruck along the side of the road blocked some of their view. Sandy let the Blazer coast around the drastic curve of the exit ramp, keeping pace with the Jeep ahead of them. Allie hugged the outside shoulder, giving them the best vantage point around the weeds and curve of the road.