Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“I was, earlier when I discovered it. But…there were only two bullets left and honestly, it might be the only way Charlie survives.”
I shook my head slowly. I’d even thought about the fact that I was concerned for his welfare just a few minutes before. But now things would be harder for us. More proof of Charlie’s selfishness. If I’d had any niggling doubts about his character—which I really didn’t—this would have squashed them entirely.
I almost inquired about Hosea possibly replacing the gun Charlie had stolen but changed my mind. Weapons were precious right now, not only as a means of protection, but as a means of food. We’d needed both on several occasions. Now we’d have to do without.
Tuck helped me loop my arm through the other strap of my backpack, eyeing me. “Are you okay?”
“Regarding Charlie? Yes. More than okay. Our parting is for the best. Although I’d like to kick him in the teeth for taking the gun.”
He stood there for a moment as if adjusting to this new reality. “Okay, then,” he finally said. “Hosea has arranged for us to ride with a couple crewmen heading to an army base near the border of Kansas and Oklahoma.”
“Oh. Do they think the government is operational there?”
“They have no idea. Someone here happens to know about that location and it’s in driving distance, so they’re going to sacrifice some fuel and check it out.”
I thought about that. I supposed Hosea and the rest of this crew would check out all possible locations where the military might still be stationed and able to provide some answers if they had a way to look up locations. But as of now, they had to go off guesses and memory. “Life really sucks without Google and GPS.”
Tuck let out a small chuff of agreement.
We traveled in the back of a Jeep for the next six hours, the noise of the vehicle and the wind in our faces making it mostly impossible to talk without yelling. But I found it a good opportunity to come to terms with our new normal. It was just me and Tuck now, a duo where we’d once been an awkward threesome. But more than just a duo, I hoped we could find a way to settle into a partnership.
Both the driver and the gruff older man in the passenger seat carried weapons and though they were armed, I still felt exposed in the open vehicle as we passed by people on foot who waved their arms and attempted to get us to stop.
As we skirted around what I assumed were more populated areas, I could see the smoke rising in the sky. And when we moved more slowly around stalled cars, I heard distant wails that could have been dogs, but also might have been human and I began humming to block the sounds that sent shivers down my spine.
When we arrived at the army base, it was completely deserted. “Damn,” Tuck muttered as we stepped down from the Jeep.
“A dead fucking end,” the older man muttered.
“Thanks for the ride,” Tuck said to the two men in the front who looked as disappointed as I felt. I’d allowed myself some hope that when we arrived, there would be some official organization happening, or perhaps some information.
But at least we were a little bit closer to home.
Hosea had located a map for Tuck and so again, we followed along specific routes, walking out of rural Kansas and into Oklahoma, with New Mexico in our future.
“It’s pretty here,” I said, gazing off into the distance where farmhouses could barely be seen beyond spans of yellow fields, giant rolls of hay dotting the landscape. The cows would have plenty to eat anyway. I thought back to the folks Tuck guessed had been roasting a rat under the city overpass and didn’t let my thoughts wander to the possible fate of these cows. Instead, I hummed some more and occupied my mind with music. It had always been my sanctuary, and that was certainly true now.
The idea made me think about what Tuck had told me the night before, his description of spinning from the loss of his mother, the farm, and life as he’d known it. I’d been so bereft during that time too, and especially when he’d turned away from me, but in the midst of my pain, I’d still had music. What if I hadn’t? What other choices might I have made? Where might I have gone for meaning, perhaps taking wrong turns along the way?
The same way Tuck had. And it opened up a wellspring of understanding in me. And a new level of forgiveness.
It also added context to his deep hurt when I hadn’t believed him on the airplane. Tuck had never hesitated to take blame for something if he thought someone else would suffer more in the fallout—I knew that all too well. He’d done the same thing when Abel died, not declaring his innocence because he saw it as throwing Abel under the bus—again. But he had denied any wrongdoing when it came to Charlie’s drugs, and I hadn’t believed him. How terribly that must have stung.