Caleb shook his head. “Surely not after all this time? Unless someone is there taking care of them. And if they are, we have a whole other problem to deal with. We should just keep moving. Stealing from a cult that tried to kill us—and worse—is one thing. Stealing from some farmer just trying to get by is another.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No one has to feed them. Places like these have thousands of chickens. In a pinch, they’ll just start eating their dead. Or pecking each other to death. You’d be surprised how long they can survive. Chickens are cannibalistic. Even if no one’s looking after them, it’s worth a shot.”

  “We did pick up that salt earlier,” Derek interjected. “A few live chickens can last a long time, if we can find something to store them in. With the weather like it’s been, we could also just salt the meat and store them on the roof.”

  Caleb’s jaw tensed. He was about to nix the idea. Lana’s stomach growled at the prospect of actual meat that wasn’t from a can and she spoke up. “Dad, we can just find the place and do a quick drive-by. See if there’s anyone there. If so, we move on, but if not... it would be great to have one less thing to worry about.”

  Her father sighed. “It could cost us the rest of the night if we stop to find it. Any idea where it might be?”

  Derek studied the map for a long moment, then put his finger on an intersection ahead of them. “There’s a short road we either just passed, or we’re coming up on soon, I think. On the left.” He twisted around. “What mile marker was that last—wait, are those lights?”

  One hand on the back of the passenger seat, Lana braced herself as Caleb hit the brakes. The SUV skidded briefly before he let off and slowed to a stop, the headlights already dark. She peered around her mother’s seat as Derek did the same, and the four of them searched the darkness.

  The roads here were largely flat, and any lights on the road should have been visible from a good distance away—but there were enough hills that a vehicle might disappear for a few minutes before coming into view again. They waited in silence, watching the night until, at last, a distant set of lights appeared.

  Then another. And another. By the time they dipped below another hill, Lana counted at least a dozen. “That’s got to be a convoy of some kind. Can we get off the road here?”

  Her father eased the SUV into motion again, lights still off, and rolled his window down. It let more of the stench inside the cabin, forcing Lana to pull the collar of her T-shirt up to cover her face. “Nearest mile marker to that turn, Derek?” Caleb asked.

  Derek’s flashlight clicked on. “Looks like... one-fifteen.”

  “Scan the side of the road for the mile marker. Use the flashlight if you must, but keep it low, and off when the headlights are in view.”

  They rolled forward at a crawl, the engine barely registering the gas. With no stars or moon in the sky, every night was pitch black now, and it was impossible to see if the road was blocked. Once before, when they’d had to travel dark, they’d nearly driven into the furrow left behind by one of the first, smaller meteorites that had peppered the globe.

  Now, Caleb knew better than to risk it. Twice more, they saw the line of headlights come into view, each time closer than before. They were on the highway, headed right for them.

  “There’s the mile marker!” Derek spotted it out the passenger window and no more than a hundred yards past it they found the turn and took it. Caleb drove the SUV far enough down that they wouldn’t be seen before pulling over.

  Lana tracked the lights twice more before they no longer vanished. In her head, she played through the scenarios. Maybe they hadn’t been spotted at all, and these people—whoever they were—hadn’t seen them. Or they had, but her father had turned off the headlights fast enough that it could be mistaken for a reflection, or another vehicle making a turn.

  Surely, they hadn’t been visible enough to get a firm location. If these people were inclined to look for them, they likely wouldn’t know where to turn. If they did? Fighting in the dark would be difficult. They couldn’t afford to abandon the SUV, certainly not with the temperatures dropping like they had. And they couldn’t take cover behind it and risk damaging something critical.

  Fortunately, none of the worst-case scenarios panned out. After ten minutes of tense waiting, all crouched down behind the SUV and practically suffocating from the awful reek of the chicken farm, Lana counted the vehicles as they passed by without slowing. Thirteen sets of headlights, all closely packed in what could only be called formation.

  Caleb watched them through the binoculars, and when the lights were out of sight again, he grunted low and wary.

  “National guard?” Derek asked quietly, as if someone from the convoy might hear them.

  Lana’s father shook his head. “Black Humvees. They had a logo on the doors I don’t recognize. Like an ‘A’ with a torch at the top, and initials around it--A.S.F. Nothing I’ve seen before. Private mercenary force, maybe. Definitely looked official.”

  Lana groaned out a curse. “General Thomas was bad enough. Now there are mercenaries?”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Caleb said, “but... we should keep an eye out and try not to find out.”

  “In the meantime,” Elizabeth took a few steps away from the SUV, her head craned as if that might help her see through the darkness, “looks like that might be the farm. Caleb, switch on the lights. There’s a building.”

  He did, and Lana’s mother was right—they’d stopped off the side of the road by a wire fence not too far from a gravel-and-ash laden turn into what looked to be a fairly large complex. There were a few buildings there, but the one closest to the road was a barn easily as long as two football fields. It was impossible to say how deep it went. The whole place was dark like everything else—but that was a good sign. No one appeared to be running any light or heat, which likely meant the place was abandoned.

  Whether or not they cared to collect any chickens from the place—Lana really preferred not—the barn wasn’t the only building. She pointed to where the lights illuminated the edge of a porch some distance past it. “Looks like there’s a house.” Houses could mean untouched supplies, ammunition, canned food. Whatever the smell, they couldn’t pass up an opportunity for any of those things. “Want us to go take a look?”

  “We’ll all go.” Caleb headed for the driver’s door to the SUV. “I’ll pull the car in, park it on the other side of the barn. Best if we’re out of sight from the road, just in case. You two go get a look at the house, I’ll check the barn.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Elizabeth opened the passenger door.

  There was a short, tense moment of silence, in which Lana got the feeling her father wanted to say he’d go alone. Once it passed, though, he just gave her a short nod, and they got in as Lana and Derek retrieved their rifles from the back and picked their way through the dark to check out the house.

  It wasn’t the first seemingly loaded moment between her parents that she’d observed over the days since they escaped Calvary and the super-tornado. If she had to guess, she’d have said it had to do with her mother’s brutalizing of the reverend there. Now, though, it seemed like her father was more wary, maybe off-balance, and unsure how to handle her mother.

  Add it to the long list of crap we’re dealing with these days. And probably make sure there’s plenty more space at the bottom.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ELIZABETH

  Outside St. Clair, MO

  Tuesday, July 17th, 2:17 am CST

  The smell took Elizabeth back, and for once it was something of a relief. Lately, she’d almost rather be back in her childhood memories than replaying Calvary over and over in her head.

  She’d been in fourth or fifth grade when they moved into Colby’s trailer. He’d been one of her mother’s slow-burn abusers who hadn’t shown his true colors up front like so many of the others did. All the same, they only lived with him for a few months.

  Colby worked at the farm nearby and he carried the smell home. It permeated his clothes, the couch he flopped on after work, even the truck. She’d wrinkled her nose when they first moved in, complaining to her mother that it turned her stomach. She couldn’t remember what her mother had said exactly, but it was something to the effect of suck it up and be grateful we’re not homeless. She’d never gotten used to it.

  “We should be out of sight here.” Caleb parked the SUV. “You can stay in the car, if you want.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I want to see what we’re dealing with. Plus, I could stretch my legs.”

  He nodded but didn’t open his door. Instead, he stared out the windshield for a long moment before he spoke softly to her. “It’s okay to not be alright. If you need time to—”

  “I’m fine.” She cut him off almost on reflex as a wave of heat coursed through her, along with a wash of emotion. Not exactly anger, but irritation. “Can we just check the barns? We don’t want to be here any longer than we have to be.”

  If Caleb was hurt by her shortness, he hid it well. But her husband was good at that sort of thing. He flashed a tight smile, reached over to squeeze her knee, and eased out of the car. She followed and tried to emulate his stoic demeanor.

  Elizabeth wasn’t good at hiding her emotions and Caleb could see she was struggling. More so than before she’d clubbed a man to death, anyway. She kept playing it over in her head, seeing the blood, the carnage she created out of Reverend Bastion’s head. The way his mouth had turned a foamy red, his eyes wide with animal terror as he stared up at her and died.

  The sequence of events was always the same, but the commentary that came with it changed every time. He was a bad man—evil, really. Both because of his willingness to hurt Lana and for the way he took advantage of other people’s misery to grab and abuse his power. If anyone deserved to die, it was him.

  But, on the other hand, there was, or at least had been, a system of justice in the world. Before the meteor, would she have done the same thing? Made the same choice? In that world, she’d be on her way to prison. That there were no consequences to her killing a person seemed... wrong. Unbalanced. Maybe that was the problem.

  She’d done something terrible, and no one was making her pay for it. However she played it in her head, whatever the commentary, the consistent fact was that she had beaten him to death. No warning, no plea for him to stop, no attempt at reason or even threatening him. Maybe it could have gone differently. If she’d tried to talk him down and he’d attacked her, maybe she wouldn’t feel so dirty for what she’d done. Maybe she could stop seeing blood under her fingernails where there was probably only dirt and ash.

  Caleb was still here, still looked at her the same. Lana sometimes looked at her and seemed almost proud. Proud that her mother had killed a man, up close and personal, and brutally. It felt like this world was reshaping all of them in ways that Elizabeth had been afraid it would.

  And there was nothing to stop it. No order to pull them back from the precipice of becoming monsters. If they slipped, they would fall, and that would be that. Even if there was safety in Colorado, she had a hard time believing she deserved it.

  “Locked,” Caleb muttered. He lifted a heavy padlock on the first of the barn doors, and let it drop with a clank. “Could shoot it off, but it’ll make a lot of noise.”

  Forcing herself to the present, Elizabeth touched the barn door near the lock. It was wood, the paint mostly worn away. “There’s a crowbar in the back of the car,” she offered, grateful for a problem to draw her attention, even for a few minutes. “We can just pry the lock off. It’s probably just to keep the chickens in and predators out.”

  Caleb hurried back to the SUV and a few seconds later, with the cold biting Elizabeth’s ears and nose, they dug at the wood with one end of the crowbar until they could wiggle the edge beneath the metal of the lock. In short order, one side of the lock tore free. Caleb pulled on the door, but piled ash made it difficult to pull open. Elizabeth chipped away at it until they could get their fingers inside and together, they hauled it open.

  The smell hit Elizabeth like a noxious wall, enveloping her and turning her stomach. She nearly threw up, marginally comforted to see Caleb turning away as well, dry retching for several seconds before he gained control of himself. Both drew their shirts up over their noses, but it barely helped.

  Something was certainly alive inside, at least. In the darkness, they heard the flapping of wings and the annoyed sounds of chickens before they switched on their flashlights. When the light spilled over the scene, she almost wished they’d stayed in the dark.

  At least two hundred yards long and half as wide, the barn stretched into the darkness. Every visible foot of the dirt floor was littered with bones, rotting corpses, chicken excrement, and feathers. The whole of it seethed with chickens still alive and moving around. They looked like walking corpses themselves, missing large patches of feathers or parts of their beaks. Even as she watched, she saw them pecking at bodies and at one another. When the light hit them, some scattered, while others made a sudden run at the door. Skittering crows and clucks rose in waves from the room.

  Caleb wheezed out a string of curses. “They just locked them up and left them here?”

  “The other barns are probably full, too.” It was hard to speak, her throat closing in revulsion when she opened her mouth. “I don’t think I can stay in here.”

  “No,” Caleb agreed. “We wanted to know if there were chickens; now we know.’ He staggered back toward the door. “Hell, I’m gonna throw up.”

  They retreated quickly and shoved the barn door closed. A few of the inhabitants managed to get around them and now seemed uncertain if it was a good idea. Caleb shined his flashlight around, looking for them, and they bolted when the light hit them. If he had any desire to catch them, he didn’t share it. Elizabeth didn’t; not until she’d had a moment to recover. “Let’s radio Lana and Derek. See if they found anything inside the house.”

  “There’s a cellar,” Lana reported. “We haven’t gone in the main house yet. Meet you on the porch?”

  “Will do,” Caleb sent back. He started to wipe his nose with his sleeve but stopped, his face contorting with disgust. “My clothes smell like the inside of that place.”

  Probably Elizabeth’s did, too. She didn’t relish the idea of getting back in the car smelling like this. “A place like this could be on well water. Maybe we can wash.”

  “Maybe,” Caleb agreed as they trudged up to the house. “But we’d be lucky if the pipes weren’t busted from freezing.”

  If washing up wasn’t an option, maybe there would at least be fresh clothing in the house somewhere. Clothing that had belonged to someone else. And technically still did, she supposed. Even if whoever lived here was dead, they almost certainly would have left their farm to children, or grandchildren, wouldn’t they? “One day,” she said, almost absently, “everyone’s going to have to go digging for anything that belongs to them.”

  Caleb glanced over at her. “What?”

  She shrugged, mulling the thought over. “I was just thinking out loud. If we were all going to die out, it seems like we’d know it by now. It’s cold, but it could be worse. The rain isn’t as bad. Sometimes you can almost see the sun. So, I figure eventually something will... well, it’ll rise from the ashes. Literally. I wonder what happens then? How you find the house your parents left you, or even their will. How you prove something is yours if they’re gone and there’s no documentation.”

  “I... guess we’ll just have to figure it all out.” Her husband slowed. “You sound optimistic. But I have a feeling we’ll end up scrapping the whole thing. America, I mean. It’ll be something else. Democratic still, I hope. But I’m not sure anyone will own anything like they used to. Maybe we’ll all get a clean slate.”

  The way he said, ‘clean slate,’ Elizabeth didn’t think he was talking about property or inheritance.

  Lana and Derek were already on the porch when they arrived. “Locked,” Lana motioned toward the house. “But there are no lights inside. Wanna take a look?”

  Caleb nodded and moved to the window with his flashlight. With the ash and frost it was hard to see anything at all, but he peered around for a moment and then straightened with a sigh. “Can’t really tell if anyone’s been moving around in there, but there’s an oxygen tank and a walker.”

  “Your call, sir.” Derek stood beside Lana, waiting.

  When Caleb looked to Elizabeth, she didn’t need to think long. Maybe it was the bitter cold, but it didn’t make sense to just stand around outside. “I say we go in. We can always explain if we wake someone up.”

  All the same, Caleb knocked first. When no one answered, it seemed it was a choice between kicking down the door or breaking a window. “Or we could try a window upstairs,” Elizabeth said. “Plenty of people don’t lock them, especially during the summer.”

  Lana gave a snort. “God, I forgot what time of year it actually is. If we could get in without having to patch a hole in something to stay warm, that would be great.”

  “Agreed.” Caleb looked around at the edges of the porch. “Here—Derek, climb on this railing and I’ll boost you up.” Caleb braced against the farmhouse siding and Derek used him as support to clamber on top of the roof.

  Elizabeth shivered as she waited, and when Lana eased closer, she threw an arm around her daughter and pulled her close. She warmed, if only marginally. “What do you think happens after all of this?”

  Lana’s shoulder shifted under Elizabeth’s arm. “What, like for everything?” Elizabeth nodded, and Lana gave a heavy sigh. “I guess I don’t think about it. I just try and focus on right now, what’s ahead of us. But... I don’t know. It can’t be like it was before. If there are other people out there like General Thomas, for all we know it might be three or four new countries.