Emmy Laybourne - Savage Drift

And he chugged. Straight scotch. Ugh.

“That’s enough,” I said. “Give me the bottle.”

“You want some?” he asked.

“No, I’m going to put it away.”

“You’re not my freakin’ nanny, Geral dine !” Jake yelled.

“Quiet!” Astrid snapped.

“You heard her!” I said, making a snatch for the bottle.

“Both of you shut up!” she yelled. “I HEAR something.”

All four of us fell silent.

All I could hear was the engine droning and the thud of my own heartbeat.

“Never mind,” she said. She relaxed into her seat.

Jake took another drink from the bottle and then munched on a handful of Goldfish.

“You don’t care that Jake’s getting drunk?” I asked Astrid. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“I wish I could get drunk myself,” she said. She sounded miserable.

“I wonder if we can make it to Missouri on this tank of gas,” Niko said. “We have three-quarters of a tank.”

I sat back and looked out the window.

Miles of drying farmland blurred past.

“I wish we could have saved that woman,” Astrid said.

“I know,” I told her.

Astrid reached over and turned on the radio. FM and XM stations were all down, but there was some of that funny, fuzzy AM radio to be had. There was nothing on the radio about the drift.

“Hey, Astrid,” Niko said. “I know it’s probably pointless, but would you try the GPS?”

I shifted around in my seat, getting comfortable.

In my lap I held what looked like an empty fishbowl. Seemed like the floor mat was damp—something wet pressing against my leg, though the moisture didn’t seep through the leg of my safety suit.

Maybe there was a dead fish down there somewhere.

I stared out the window and after a few minutes I realized my hands were still shaking.

“Don’t you think we should try to warn people?” Astrid asked Niko quietly.

Jake took another swig of the whisky.

I could swear his eyes were red. I could swear he was crying there, looking out the window.

“We can’t save everyone,” Niko said. “But we can still get Josie out of Mizzou, if we’re lucky.”

I knew I should sleep but I couldn’t.

We drove for a couple hours, putting mile after mile between us and Vinita, Oklahoma. The roads were clear—not much traffic at all.

We rolled down the suits, knotting them at the waist as the soldiers had done.

We caught part of President Booker’s weekly address:

My fellow Americans, history will judge us by how we handle this series of devastating crises. Those of you in a position to help must ask yourselves: Am I doing enough? Can I stretch out a hand to one more survivor? Can I make do with less, so that those in dire need can live? And to those of you who have found yourselves homeless, and have lost beloved family and friends—I tell you this: Your government has not forgotten you. Medical care. Food. Water. Shelter. We are working to provide these for you. And once we have regained stability, we will begin to rebuild. Housing. Industry. Purpose. We will overcome this disaster, working together, sacrificing much, never forgetting that America is stronger than ever, united we stand. Divided? Never!

And then the “Star-Spangled Banner” started playing.

Nothing about the drifts.

Did he not know? Was that possible?

If the Network had been running, everybody would know. There’d be images and videos and alarms going off all over the online world.

But only the government had access to the Network now.

It made me feel scared. What else were they keeping from us?

“They’re gonna impeach Booker,” Jake snorted. “The drifts. The NORAD thing. The way he’s handled everything.”

“No, they’re not,” I scoffed. “Who told you that?”

“Rocco.”

“Are you serious? He was a right-wing idiot—”

“Hey!” Jake said, pressing a finger into my chest. “Don’t speak bad of the dead.”

And he held my glance for a moment. His head wavered as he tried to look me in the eye.

Then he threw up his hands and laughed, trying to play off his serious tone.

“I’m just joshin’ you, man,” he said. “Sometimes I think you’re really lame, Dean. A real wet blanket—”

“Oh God, shut up, Jake,” Astrid said from the front seat.

“Let me finish, now, let me finish,” he drawled. “But then I see you’re not such a d-bag. There. See? I had something good to say.”

I chuffed a laugh. Some compliment.

I didn’t respond. Maybe he’d fall asleep. He was drunk enough. Heck, maybe he’d fall out of the car.

“Anybody want some Goldfish?” I asked. “There’s also a box of Golden Grahams and some kiddy applesauce squeezer thingies.”

I tossed up some juice boxes into the front seat, too.

We ate, we drove. Niko said we were at least four hours from Mizzou, though we’d need gas before then.

We still had our gas credits, whatever that meant. I realized we still had our money, too. We’d never paid Rocco.

Niko encouraged us all to get some sleep.

I guess I drifted off because I woke up to Astrid saying, “There! I heard it again! Didn’t you hear it?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Niko said and he shut off the radio.

“Pull over,” Astrid commanded.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just pull over, Niko. Right now.”

Niko pulled onto the shoulder and cut the engine.

We waited. Jake snored. I started to ask Astrid more about this phantom sound but she cut me off, holding her hand up. Her head was cocked.

And then I heard it.

A soft, muted thumping. Coming from behind me.

And a wail. “Mommy!”

We stay in the room until dinner.

Lori won’t let anyone leave.

“Look,” she says. “We go straight to Plaza 900. We eat. We come right back.”

“Why?” Aidan wants to know. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“When’s Mario coming back?” Heather adds. “He should be back by now. He should be here.”

“You heard what Josie said, the doctors are doing their best and we can go back and visit him tomorrow.”

I lay on our bed and look at the wire frame and the stained mattress on the bunk above us.

It was bad, what I had done.

I can see that.

The part of my mind that is still reasonable and well oiled murmurs and tuts inside my head:—Am I suicidal? Is that why I had beaten those boys?

I am done for.

Or am I just a dumb animal now, going on instinct, defending Lori because she is my tribe?

My actions mean she is in for it, too.

In trying to defend her, I have probably doomed her.

And then the darkest, secret voice whispers that we’re all doomed anyway and it’s not my fault.

And that feels good to hear, even if it feels a little dirty to think it. It is true, after all.

The dinner tone comes over the PA system.

One chime—time for the first group to head to Plaza 900. That is us.

There is no talking, no whispering from the kids.

They are simply scared to go to dinner without Mario. They have no idea of the danger I have put us in.

We all hold hands. Aidan’s hand like ice in my right. Heather’s like ice in my left.