D. MacHale - Storm

Kent backed off. “About like that.”

“In the morning I’ll find a car,” I declared. “If anybody wants to come with me, meet me outside at nine, ready to go. If you change your mind, sleep in.”

I tucked the loose map of Nevada into the atlas and brought it with me into the children’s area, where I returned to my spot on the floor. This time I planned to sleep.

I didn’t mean to be so cold with the others. It just happened. Without intending to, I’d built a wall to keep myself separated from them. I was flying by the seat of my pants, and staying emotionally detached seemed like the best way to keep from being manipulated… if someone was trying to manipulate me.

Tori entered the room and stood over me, dangling the lamp.

“Explain it to me,” she said. “Everything you preached about us needing one another and trusting each other and claiming that ‘we’re all we’ve got’—what happened to that?”

“We are all we’ve got,” I said.

“So that’s why you took my gun and snuck out on some mission of personal revenge that could have gotten you killed? How did that help us, exactly?”

“I told you,” I said unapologetically. “It was something I had to do on my own.”

“But what was the point? To get revenge for Quinn? To make one man pay for disturbing your precious little island? To make you feel a little bit better? How was that supposed to help us all?”

I wished I had a good answer, but I couldn’t come up with one. So I told the truth.

“It wouldn’t have.”

“I told you how much I needed you,” she said. “Didn’t that count for anything?”

“Of course it did. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get hurt, Tori—”

“Bull!” she snapped angrily. “You wanted to wage your own little war! It’s been like that from the beginning. Everything you’ve done, every decision you’ve made, everywhere you’ve led us was about you feeling sorry for yourself and the life you lost. You may have been traveling with us, but you were always on your own journey.”

“You’re getting what you want,” I argued. “I’m going to Nevada.”

“You expected to die tonight,” she cried. “You left us. You left me. The only reason you’re here now is because you chickened out when it counted. I don’t care what you do anymore, Tucker. I’m tired of following you around.”

She turned to leave.

“So what are you going to do?” I called. “Are you coming with me?”

She stopped but didn’t turn back to me as she said, “I’ll be in the car, but from now on we’re on our own.”

She left the room and I was alone.

Everything she said was true. I had to hear the words to realize it. Anger and loss had driven me to take revenge. It felt like the only way to make the pain go away. Every move I had made, every decision, reflected that.

The others were just along for the ride.

I had convinced myself that I was helping to keep everyone together, but the truth was I was using them to support my own quest. I had been quick to criticize everyone else for not doing what was best for the group, while I was being the most selfish of all.

I wanted to run to Tori and apologize. I wanted to tell her that I got it. That I was wrong. That I wanted to try again. I wanted to tell them all… but I couldn’t.

They could be Retros.

Early the next day, I woke before sunrise after not sleeping much. I packed up my gear and brought it outside to the curb. First order of business was to find a new car. Though we were in a rural area, it was the kind of place where most people had big cars. I got into the Fiat and only had to drive a few minutes before I found our next vehicle: a Volvo SC90. It had three rows of seats and still enough room for our gear.

I tried not to think about how all of these cars belonged to people who died inside of them.

When I drove it back to the library, Kent was waiting on the steps.

“I was afraid you took off without us again,” he said.

He never would have said that before my adventure the night before. Now everything I did was going to be scrutinized and questioned.

“Why would I take off without my gear?” I said, pointing to my bag on the curb.

“Oh. Didn’t see that.”

“Load up,” I ordered. “I want to get going.”

As Kent threw his bag in the back, Tori came out of the library.

“Did you have to get such a gas guzzler?” she asked.

“We can always trade it in,” I said. “There are plenty of cars out there to choose from. Is anybody else coming?”

As if in answer, Olivia came out of the library with her bag hanging from her shoulder and her sunglasses on, even though the sun was barely up. She looked as though she was ready for a day at the beach. “You sure you want to come?” I asked.

She walked right up to me, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed me square on the lips.

“Somebody’s got to make sure you eat your greens,” she said. She walked to Kent and tossed her bag to him.

“I’m riding up front,” she said. “I’m tired of being car sick.”

She went right for the passenger door and got in.

Kent shrugged and put her bag in back.

I looked to the library, expecting to see Jon come out. He didn’t.

“Do we say good-bye?’ Tori asked.

“Good-bye,” I said so low that Tori could barely hear it, let alone Jon.

“I’ll drive the first leg,” I said and headed for the driver’s door.

“Wait!” Jon called as he ran from the building with his bag banging around his shoulder. “I was afraid you’d leave without me!”

He loaded up and was given the far back seat. Again.

That was that. We were all going. Even those who didn’t really want to. Was that a sign that we had truly become dependent on each other? Or did one—or some—of us go along in order to monitor our movements for the Retros?

With that in mind, I put the car in gear, and we began our journey.

Next stop: the gates of hell.

It was a tense, quiet, and very long journey.

Jon estimated the trip would cover roughly two thousand miles, which is a very long time to be stuck in the same car with people who were all on edge. We mapped out a route that was the most direct, while carefully skirting major cities. Fortunately most interstates didn’t swing too close to downtown areas, and the only time we had to stop was when we needed gas or to pillage a grocery store. Our route took us from Louisville to the southernmost tip of Indiana and on to Illinois. We swung way south of St. Louis, hit Missouri, and headed straight for Kansas City.

We passed through places I’d always heard of but never expected to visit. I wished I could have appreciated it more. Or even a little. Here we were, traveling across America, but rather than getting a glimpse of all the different cities and places of interest, we saw nothing but abandoned cars, empty skies, and weeds growing up through the roadbed.Nature was already hard at work, trying to take back control. It would have to get in line behind the Retros, SYLO, and anybody else who wanted to stake a claim on the planet.

We guesstimated that it would take us three days of driving. We could have made it in less, but we didn’t dare drive at night. The first night we stayed in a hospital east of St. Louis in a town called Independence. There were plenty of signs all over the empty town that boasted it as being the birthplace of Harry S. Truman. It made me wonder what a former president of the United States would think of the mess his country had become.

We planned to spend the second night near Denver then push on to Nevada the following day.

Very few words were spoken the entire trip. At least very few between me and anybody else. I think they were all pissed at me for abandoning them and then acting as if I didn’t care. Kent and Olivia cozied up in the third row whenever they got the chance. I heard them whispering and giggling but could never make out what they were saying, not that I wanted to know. A couple of times Jon turned around to look at them, and Kent immediately smacked him and told him to mind his own business.