Unrest Page 4

  We said nothing, just clung. Rylen watched us with distant eyes, his jaw clenched.

  More footsteps came into the gas station, and Remy and I held each other as we listened.

  “No generator juice,” Matt said.

  “Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here and try someplace else.” Rylen’s voice sounded tense at the mention of stopping at another place. Reality of our lack of safety was hitting hard.

  Rylen and Remy both helped me to my feet and watched me.

  “I’m okay,” I whispered. I touched my lip and let out a little whine of surprise at how swollen it was. My mouth still tasted metallic. But I moved forward and they followed me out.

  Tater was in the car, in the passenger seat, staring forward with glossy eyes. Rylen made sure Remy and I were seated with the door closed before he climbed in the driver’s seat.

  “Tater?” I whispered. I wanted him to look at me, to let me thank him, but he continued to stare blankly ahead like a stone statue. Remy took my hand.

  We followed Devon back down the empty dirt road to get to the original one lane road we’d been on. After our awful encounter with the first people we’d seen in days, the void was a comfort.

  My skin felt tight where the man’s blood had dried on me. I clenched my teeth as the memory of what transpired flashed through my mind. I’d never wanted a shower so badly in my life.

  A low hum came from the front seat and turned to a groan. Rylen shot Tater a startled look as my brother slumped forward, his arms over his head, shoulders wracked with convulsions. It took a moment for me to realize he was crying. My chest constricted and Remy gasped. He sobbed for an anguished minute, the sounds stabbing at my gut. How would Mom comfort him?

  I unbuckled and leaned over the seat to press a hand to Tater’s upper back. “Esta bien, Jacob. Thank you.” Two of my own fat tears ran down and splattered his T-shirt.

  Tater reached back and took my hand, holding it tight.

  “I can’t lose you, Amber.” His voice was thick with tears.

  “I’m here,” I whispered. “Because of you.”

  “But I never . . .” His shoulders shook and he sucked in a breath. “That man. He wasn’t DRI.” Tater sat up, letting go of my hand to wipe his face. “He was just some fucked up man. A victim, like us. But when I saw that gun on you . . .”

  “You did the right thing,” Rylen said. “Anyone who threatens one of our lives is an enemy, DRI or not.” Ry glanced at me, then back at Tater. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

  Tater shook his head. “Everything’s fucked up. They’ve got us all turned against each other like animals.” He put a knuckle to his mouth and turned to the window. I could see the tendons taut in his neck, his arms muscles flexed with tension. Another sob wrenched out of him. “I took his gun, man. It wasn’t even loaded.”

  God above. A sinking heaviness pressed me down. My brother had killed for me, and it hadn’t even been necessary. He could have hit him over the head. Now a man was dead. Tater’s trembling hand covered his face, and I squeezed his shoulder harder. I would have done anything to take this burden from his soul. It was my stupid fault for exploring by myself without my gun. Now Tater would carry this guilt for life.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “There was no way to know it wasn’t loaded,” Rylen tried to assure us. “You couldn’t take the chance.”

  I squeezed Tater’s shoulder harder, trying to infuse my remorse and reassurance into him. I wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, my mouth couldn’t form the words. Nothing was okay.

  We rode in stunned silence for forty-five more minutes until it was time to try again.

  Every cell in my body was on high alert as our cars crept down a side road and we spied a gas station ahead. It was one of the bigger chain companies with four aisles of pumps. Between my breathing and heart rate, I hardly heard Rylen whisper.

  “I think everyone should stay in the vehicles this time except those who need to turn on the generator and pump.”

  He didn’t have to worry. My exploring days were over. We inched closer, all of us swiveling our heads around at the empty rest area off the highway. The closer we got to the mini mart and pumps, the more apparent it became that the place had been looted. Broken glass. Trash strewn and shelves toppled. Everything useful had to be gone. I let out a shaky sigh.

  Devon and Rylen pulled up at the pumps, facing out toward the street so we could take off at a moment’s notice if necessary. Matt and Texas Harry came up to Ry’s window.

  “We’ll check it out,” Texas Harry said. “Y’all keep an eye out for our signal.”

  Rylen nodded and stepped out, sending a rush of cold air in through the open door. He and Devon got the pumps ready. Tater opened his door and stood inside of it, gun propped on his shoulder as he kept watch. His jaw was set hard. I looked over at Remy and found her watching him, rubbing her arms.

  She abruptly turned to look out the back window, away from him. “So weird to see towns abandoned,” she whispered. I followed her lead, turning and sitting on my knees, resting my arms and chin on the back of the seat. In the nearby field was a small farmhouse with a silo in the distance. I stared at the house and wondered how unethical it would be to check out houses for food. Even though the DRI probably took every scrap long ago.

  A beep rang out, making us all jump.

  Our heads spun toward the minimart where Texas Harry was swinging an arm over his head like a helicopter. Numbers popped up on the tank screen.

  “Yes!” I cried. Rylen and Devon got their pumps going. Remy and I hugged each other as the sound of rushing gasoline filled the vehicle.

  But after a few moments the pumps shut off with a wheezing sound.

  “Damn it,” Tater said. “Only a quarter tank.”

  My heart sank with dread at the thought of having to stop again soon.

  Nobody said anything as everyone piled back in the SUV and minivan, and took off back down the road.

  I stared from the window. Hunger began to gnaw at me. We would find food. I had to stay hopeful.

  We got back on the side road, which soon turned from pavement to gravel. The bumpiness kept me on edge. On one side of us were patchy trees; the other side was rocky flatness stretching into picturesque mountains of striated browns, tans, and reds. In the near distance, running parallel to the mountains, was a main highway. Every so often there were abandoned cars off to the side that had probably run out of gasoline.

  The sky above was a soft, hazy blue with grayish clouds that made me shiver. A winter sky, and we were moving north. It would only get colder. I freaking hated the cold.

  I looked around at our clothing. Tater and Rylen both wore jeans, boots, and T-shirts. Remy had leggings and a light sweater over a tank top, and I had skinny jeans with a flimsy, poor excuse for a sweatshirt. We were both in sneakers. Our clothes were okay for a south Nevada winter, but not a northern Utah winter. I really wished we had boots with thick socks, and sweatshirts with coats and earmuffs and—

  “Fuck, veer off!” Tater shouted.

  I grabbed Remy’s arm and the oh-shit handle as Rylen abruptly turned into the trees. The SUV bumped and rattled. Up ahead, Devon was doing the same thing in the minivan. We went as far as we could until the trees became too thick to pass. Then we turned our faces to the windows, all of us breathing hard as we strained to see. I could barely make out the mountains and main road now, until a caravan of yellow busses came into view on the distant highway, followed by three white vans and a black sedan.

  My pulse pounded in my throat as I imagined townspeople on those busses, just as my parents and Abuela had been, thinking they were being brought somewhere safe, only to be murdered. Suddenly I could hear the screams from last night, people from my town standing at the gates of the camp, screaming and screaming. It was so real that I gasped as my vision cleared, jumping in panic.

  Tater saw and stared at me, but I shook my head, mouthing,
“I’m okay.”

  We’d all been holding our breath, trying to will ourselves and our vehicles to be invisible, until Remy let out an anguished, barely audible, “Oh, my gosh. Those people!”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Tater said. He sounded numb.

  My eyes burned and I swallowed hard. I wanted to stop those busses, to save them from their fate. We were ill-prepared to do that, and it left me feeling helpless. After several silent minutes passed, we reversed back on to the road. Remy and I never let go of one another.

  We weren’t driving much longer when Devon pulled aside again, this time less recklessly. There was a car on the side of the road, halfway into the trees.

  “Flat tire,” Ry whispered.

  “I’ll check it out,” Tater said. “You guys stay here.”

  We watched as Tater and New York Josh approached, guns out. Within a minute, they had the doors and trunk open. Tater grabbed something out of it and turned. He held up an unopened big bag of wavy potato chips.

  Remy and I accidentally let out yells of joy before covering our mouths. Rylen chuckled at our excitement, and then whispered, “Score,” as Josh held up a gallon of water. We all climbed out of our vehicles. My body was too excited about salty goodness to care about the biting chill on my arms. I took the chips from Tater and opened it as I stood in front of our SUV. I rationed it into ten piles on the hood of the car.

  Together, we practically pounced. There were smiles and moans all around as we crunched and laughed and licked the oil from our palms and fingers. Except Tater, who ignored his pile and stared off at the mountains.

  “Eat,” I whispered, nudging him.

  “I don’t want—”

  “Damn it, Tater,” I hissed. “Eat the stupid chips!”

  “I don’t want them!” His shout caused everyone to stop and turn. Again, his jaw set and he glared around at our group. Then he stomped to the car and got in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut.

  “So . . .” Mark said. “Does this mean he doesn’t want his chips?”

  “Have them,” I said. Each of the guys happily grabbed one from Tater’s pile, and it hurt my heart to see his portion dwindle away until not a crumb was left on the hood of our car. We passed around a water bottle until everyone had had a few gulps. I took the last of it to the driver’s side and opened the door.

  “Drink this, or so help me.” He snatched it from my hand and tipped it back. I heard his stomach give a massive growl, and I fought a rush of tears.

  “Tater,” I whispered.

  “I’m fine.” But he wouldn’t look at me. “Just ready to be there.” When he reached for the door handle, I let him close it.

  “Hey,” I heard Josh say to the group. “If they abandoned this car ‘cause of the tire, I bet it still has gas.” He walked to the van and began pulling things out.

  I didn’t know anything about siphoning gas, so it was fascinating to see Josh work. He stuck a long hose down into the abandoned car’s tank, then pushed a short black tube in next to it. He put the other end of the long hose into a red gas canister on the ground. He blew hard into the short tube, and we all cheered a second later as gas began to flow through the long one. It seemed to go on forever, which made me giddy. Between the chips, water, and gasoline, everyone was cheering, clapping each other on the backs.

  When I saw a rare grin grace Rylen’s face, I threw my arms around his shoulders in a spontaneous hug. The second he stiffened, I became self-conscious and nearly backed off. But then I felt his arms slip around my waist, his hands splayed across my back. He pulled me to him and everything was right in that moment when the side of his face pressed into my neck.

  “Let’s fill up and get the hell outta here,” Tex said.

  I exhaled and let my arms fall to my sides as Rylen did the same. He moved away without looking at me. Remy was watching, biting her lower lip. She gave me a small, sad smile. Even moments of happiness were fleeting and awkward, dripping with guilt and loss.

  If I had my cell phone I would have texted Remy: FML. It felt like ages ago that we had technology, when it’d really only been a month. I let Remy pull me by the fingertips back into the car. We were silent as a beautiful glugging sound came from the gas tank.

  “What do you think the date is?” I asked.

  Remy shook her head. She opened her door and called out to the nearest guy, Officer Sean. “Do any of you know the date?”

  He looked down at his watch and his eyes widened. “Damn. It’s December twenty-sixth.”

  Remy gasped and it felt like I’d belly flopped hard into a pool, like my skin was stinging and the breath had been knocked out of me.

  They’d killed our family on Christmas.

  Rylen walked over, crossing his arms as he examined our faces. “What’s wrong?”

  “Christmas was yesterday.” I struggled to get the words out. He blinked and his eyes narrowed, as if what he’d heard couldn’t possibly be true. The fact that a day so important in our old lives, an event we counted down for and focused so much of our energy on, could bypass us without a blip in any of our minds was so shocking I felt literally spooked. And to have something so wretched happen on that joyous date.

  Remy pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. It felt as if the universe had turned on us. And how had we lost track of time? Holidays—those special moments with loved ones were the essence of who we were—we couldn’t lose that.

  “What?” Tater was there now, and Rylen mumbled something to him.

  Tater’s hand went into his curly, unruly hair and he grimaced. The look of loss on his face struck me like a blow as he met my eyes. Our Christmas traditions. Our family. It’s like we expected all of that to be put on hold while we figured out the mess of the world, and then we could go back to being normal. But things would never be normal again. We would never have a family Christmas again. No more American-Mexican hodgepodge of stuffing a turkey and rolling tamales. Sugar cookies and flan.

  But would we ever celebrate again? Or would Christmas forever become the day of the bomb? If it hadn’t been clear before, it certainly was now. Our enemy did not cherish the things we cherished. They were not like us. And they clearly wanted to strip us of everything we held dear.

  “They’ve taken everything,” Remy whispered.

  “Not everything,” I told her. “We won’t let them.”

  We drove for a good long while with Remy and I taking turns keeping watch out the back window for any followers. We were on a back road in the middle of nowhere in desert land, so we should have felt safe, but the desertedness felt eerie. The longer we drove, the less I trusted the aloneness. A sense of sadness and fear had draped itself over us, like being tangled in a hot blanket during a nightmare, unable to disengage.

  My stomach ached with hunger, and I caught Remy rubbing hers at one point. Had there really been a time in our lives when we could help ourselves to food at any given time? Our old lives seemed like a distant fairytale now.

  When the sun dipped low on the horizon, we found the thickest copse of trees possible, also partly hidden from the main road by a hill. We climbed out and it was freaking cold. Like, see-your-breath cold. The guys were stretching their legs as they pulled on beanie caps and rubbed their hands together.

  Remy and I took a short walk away from the guys to relieve ourselves. When Remy came out from behind the tree, she was wincing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I hardly peed, and it burned.”

  Shit. I hoped she wasn’t getting a urinary tract infection. “It could be dehydration. Let’s get you some water.” I would have to keep any eye on her.

  When we approached the guys, the ten of us stood there looking around at each other expectantly.

  “We have enough food for one more meal,” I said flatly. “Should we have it tonight or tomorrow?”

  Everyone’s bleak faces matched how I felt.

  “We had breakfast today,” said Sean. “And a snack. I can wait u
ntil morning if you all can.”

  We all nodded, though I’d bet their stomachs were hurting as badly as mine.

  “I thought this was the desert,” Matt said. “It’s cold as shit.”

  “We’re not in the Middle East, dumbass,” Mark said, giving him a shove. “Desert means dry, not hot.”

  And it was definitely dry. I would do just about anything to plunge my grungy body into a lake, or be rained on. I scratched my itchy neck at my hairline and was startled to feel crustiness there. A bout of nausea rolled over me at the sight of the dried blood on my fingers, under my nails. My breaths came out in spurts as I rubbed my fingers on my jeans, digging my nails in.

  “What’s wrong?” Rylen asked me.

  I shook my head. Don’t freak, Amber. “We should at least drink some water,” I managed to say. They agreed.

  We all took our portions, but I only drank half of mine. When nobody was looking, I gave the rest to Remy.

  “No, you drink it.” She shifted from one leg to another, trying to stay warm.

  “Remy, don’t mess with me.” I shoved it at her and she huffed before taking it and chugging the rest.

  “Do we have any trash bags?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I think so, why?”

  “I know how to try and get some water. I learned it in one of my bio classes.”

  I recalled her going on a lot of field trips to the outskirts of Vegas desert land with her science classes. It would be epically awesome if she could do this. I dug through the back of the SUV and found a roll of bags with a rubber band around it.

  “I hope I can remember the details,” she said. “What I remember most is the hot teaching assistant. One of those outdoorsy hipster guys with long hair.” She sighed and shrugged when I snorted.

  “You can do it,” I told her. “What else do you need?”

  The guys had watched, enthralled and filled with hope as Remy worked. The next morning, their hope turned to impressed cheer to find the bags filled partway with water from condensation that dripped down to the bottom.

  After we’d all drunk a few gulps, I was feeling momentarily content until Remy came back from a bathroom break looking pale. I immediately stood and felt her forehead. She was too warm.