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It was still dark when Jake crawled out from underneath a pile of blankets. Overnight, the temperature in his room must've dropped another ten degrees or so, and his breath fogged in front of his face. He didn't bother lighting the candle; his eyes were used to the dark, and the faint glow from the moon falling in through the window was enough to locate his clothes. He tried not to shiver—it always made the cold seem worse—but quickly scooted into his jeans, and let out a contented breath once he'd pulled a thick sweater over his head. Two pairs of socks followed, although his feet still felt like ice even after he'd put them on. He tiptoed out of the room and across the landing to the stairs, boots in hand—he didn't want to wake his mother.
Downstairs, the fire in the hearth had burned down to embers. He threw a couple of logs onto it before poking the glowing coals until they were tinted bright orange. Noticing their stockpile of firewood was dwindling fast, he made a mental note to chop more tomorrow, after they got back from Black Jack.
With the fire blazing up again, he finally sat down on the nearby couch to put on his boots and lace them up. The stairs creaked, and he glanced up to see his father sneaking down, briefly stopping halfway down as he caught sight of Jake.
"Mom still asleep?"
Johnston nodded and crept down the last few steps.
By the light of a single candle, they ate a quick, cold breakfast, consisting of some of the Chinese rice cakes that had been airdropped at Thanksgiving, and the last of the preserved peaches Jake'd discovered when going through the ranch's cellar. To discover the dusty jars behind a stack of outdated Kansas Farmer's Magazines had been a pleasant surprise. The preserves were old, but had turned out to still be perfectly edible. Jake reflected that even though his mother had given some of their supplies away, the Greens were better off than many other people in Jericho—especially the newly arrived refugees, many of whom had nothing but the tattered clothes on their backs.
With the cold winter ahead and the situation around town so dire, Jake feared what might happen once gas ran out and there was no more power. The Bintners wouldn't be the last people to freeze to death in their own home. But that was what today's shopping trip was all about, wasn't it? To find a way to restore power through a more permanent setup than gas-run generators.
His father cleared his throat, pulling Jake from his thoughts. "You done?" Johnston pointed at the bowl in Jake's hands, and Jake discovered he'd finished the last of the peaches a while ago.
"Yeah."
"Good. I'll clean up in here for your mother. Why don't you go load the final provisions in the car?"
They'd thought it wiser to keep the extra cans of gas and the food his mother had prepared inside, fearing someone would break into the car during the night. Nobody in Jericho was likely to steal the more than three-hundred pounds of salt from the trunk, but food and gas? That was another thing entirely. And it wouldn't do to get stranded somewhere along I-70 without gas. They'd be easy pickings for whatever gang might be haunting the area.
A few minutes later, Jake unlocked the front door and stepped out, burdened with the heavy gas cans and a bag of food. He halted in mid-step, surprised at what he found. At the sound of the door opening, Heather had pushed up from the top step of the porch and was turning toward him. Bundled up in her coat, she rubbed her gloved hands together.
"What're you doing out here?" Jake shifted his grip on the heavy cans. "Why didn't you knock?"
"I was waiting." She reached to take one of the gas cans from him and he offered her the food instead. "And I didn't want to wake your mother, or April."
"How long were you out here?"
"Oh, not long." She shrugged. "Five minutes, maybe."
"Hm." Judging by the color in her cheeks, he figured it was a bit longer than that. He couldn't help but wonder why she'd arrived ahead of schedule. Had she feared they'd leave without her? To be honest, the thought had crossed his mind. He didn't really want to take Heather out there, away from Jericho, where God knows what might happen. The last time they'd ventured out of town, he and Eric had nearly got themselves killed, and then brought Ravenwood down upon them. He wanted to keep Heather safe; and the uncertain, crazy world out there was anything but.
But she should know he'd never sneak out on her. She deserved better than that. And, truth was, they did need her. He figured he could separate a half-decent mechanical governor from a completely worthless piece of junk, but he also knew Heather was right about one thing: she'd know exactly what they were looking for. If they were going to risk the trip, they might as well make sure they had every chance of being successful.
Even if that included taking Heather on what could prove to be a very dangerous trip.
A watery sun bleached the color from the flat, monotonous Kansas landscape. It did little to warm up the interior of the car, and the Roadrunner's old heater couldn't keep up with the frigid mid-winter air it was sucking in through the vents. Heather snuggled deeper into her coat, burying her hands in its pockets. Jake was driving at a moderate speed, guiding the car with a steady hand. If she dipped her head a little sideways, she could just make out his profile, gaze firmly settled on the road.
They'd barely passed the Leaving Jericho sign before Jake turned off the highway and onto one of the many smaller country roads.
"Hey." Dale straightened on the back seat next to Heather. "That's not—."
"We're not gonna use the main roads." Jake shifted gear, slowing down further to avoid bumping them over a nasty pothole. "They're too dangerous."
"But this way it'll take forever and—."
Johnston shot Dale a look over his shoulder. "Better forever than never at all."
Dale looked as if he was going to offer another comeback but then, with a small shrug, snapped his mouth shut and settled back into the seat.
Heather listened to the exchange without commenting. She reckoned she had to trust Jake knew what he was doing. He'd been out here, and thinking about Gray's stories still sent shivers down her spine. So if Jake thought it was safer to stick to the back roads....
She settled into the worn upholstery a bit more comfortably. Either way, it was going to be a long, long drive to Black Jack.
Jake kept the car at an easy pace to conserve gas, and the landscape passed by slowly. Endless bare farm fields were intermingled with patches of low scrub, their naked branches empty of leaves. Heather didn't see a single sign of human life. Kansas in winter was always a desolate place, but on a clear day like today, people would usually be out regardless: farmers preparing their land for sowing spring crops, or mending fences; delivery trucks lumbering to and from their depots; people visiting family. But she hadn't seen a soul since they'd left Jericho.
As they drove by yet another boarded-up farmhouse, dust swirling in the yard, Heather couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Where is everyone?"
Jake glanced in the rear view mirror, catching her eye for a moment. "Gone." His voice was soft.
"Gone where?" Dale leaned forward between the two front seats.
"South." Jake shrugged and shifted his attention back to the road. "Or one of the FEMA camps, maybe. It's no longer safe out here."
As if to underscore his statement, a mile further down the road, they came upon the wreckage of an overturned SUV. It had Nebraska plates, and someone had stripped the tires off, leaving the car looking strangely naked. Rust had already set in, and debris that had no value to anyone lay scattered about, half-buried in the dirt. Jake swerved to avoid driving over the smattering of glass splinters surrounding the wreck and—.
"Is that a body?" Dale leaned over to Heather's side of the car, peering out.
"Oh my god." Heather found she couldn't turn away, even though she didn't want to look and see the frozen remains of what had once been a person. The body was lying half in, half outside of the car, withered fingers curled up in a loose fist. Her stomach churned and nausea rose in her throat. She swallowed hard.
"Hey? Hey!"
Jake calling her finally made it through the buzzing in her ears, and Heather found the will to turn at last from the scene that was already falling away behind them. Jake shot her a quick look over his shoulder before seeking her gaze in the mirror again. "You okay?"
She nodded, swallowing again. "Yeah—yeah.... Um, shouldn't we stop, or something?"
"To do what?" It was Johnston who spoke, his voice sounding more gruff than she was used to. "Give them a funeral?"
Heather shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Something...."
Johnston was shaking his head. She couldn't see his face, but from the way he held himself in the seat in front of her, with tension in the lines of his shoulders, she could tell he didn't like what he was telling her any more than she did. He was probably right, though, she decided. To those people in that car, it no longer mattered what they did. And they couldn't spare the time, or they'd never make it to Black Jack and back home before dark. She didn't know for sure, but she strongly suspected that if the roads were dangerous by day, they would be doubly so after the sun set.
For a long time after, nobody in the car spoke. Heather was left with her own thoughts. Much of the thrill she'd felt at the idea of a trip out of town (a trip with Jake, even if she refused to admit that was part of it) had evaporated at the sight of the wreck and the body—hearing from Gray how was bad it was had turned out not to be quite the same thing as seeing it with her own eyes.
She'd half-dozed off into a slumber, the gentle motion of the car rocking her to sleep, when Jake pulled over and switched off the engine. Heather started awake. "We're there?"
Jake chuckled humorlessly. "Not quite."
She glanced around. They were parked on the top of a slight rise in the mostly flat landscape. For miles around, all she could see was farmland, hardly even a tree in sight. Cold dread slithered through her belly as it dawned on her that Jake had stopped at this particular spot for a reason: there was no way anyone could sneak up on them unnoticed. In her mind's eye, she saw the wreckage again, the curled fist.... A shiver ran along her spine, and it had nothing to do with the gust of cold air washing into the car as Johnston opened his door and climbed out.
"We're about twenty miles from Black Jack." Jake twisted in his seat to face her. "Dad suggested we determine a couple of possible route out of there before going in. And I want to top off the tank. Just in case, you know...." He shrugged a shoulder.
Heather nodded weakly. He didn't need to finish. Just in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Roger had warned them about the guards, and after what she'd seen.... It was a bit of a shock to realize how fast the United States had fallen into anarchy and chaos.
"Don't worry, we'll be fine." Jake gave her an encouraging smile, and she tried to smile back. "C'mon, we got lunch."
She followed Jake out of the car. The air was frigid, a cold wind from the north blowing unhindered across the empty, flat land. She put up the collar on her coat and stuffed her hands deeper into its pockets. Yet, despite the cold, it was pleasant to breathe in some fresh air and to be able to stretch her legs a little. She didn't have a working watch, but if they were twenty miles from Black Jack, she figured they must've been driving for five to six hours. She glanced up at the sun to confirm her guestimate.
"You hungry?" Johnston Green was holding up a thermos. "I've got soup."
She grinned. "Love some." Johnston poured a measure of the thick broth into a plastic cup and offered it to her. The scent wafting up in the tendrils of steam was spicy, making her mouth water and reminding her she'd only had some stale crackers for breakfast. "That smells good."
Johnston chortled as he twisted the cap back on the bottle. "So it should; Gail made it."
Thanking him before turning away, Heather wrapped her hands around the cup, relishing the heat that seeped through her gloves into her cold fingers, and took a nip from the soup. It tasted as good as it smelled, and she had to be careful not to gulp it down eagerly. Despite having been in a thermos for many hours, it was still hot enough to burn her tongue.
As she was finishing, she saw that Jake had raised the hood of the Roadrunner and was peering into the engine. She frowned and wandered over to join him. "We're not having engine trouble, are we?"
He glanced sideways. "No." Reaching into the engine to fiddle with some lines, he added, "Just being cautious. This old girl probably isn't really ready for a long, hard road trip."
Heather nodded in understanding. The old cars, the only ones that were still running, the cars without electronics were, well, old. Her own Charlotte needed a lot of care and attention just to keep her going, and the Roadrunner had to carry four people and a heavy load of salt for two hundred miles in search of supplies.
Jake dropped the hood and cleaned his hands on a rag. He turned, leaning against the car and glanced up at her. "Listen, once we get to Black Jack, don't go wandering off by yourself, alright? Stay close to me, or to Dad."
Heather raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in mock-offense. "You goin' all protective on me, Jake Green?"
He didn't smile back. " We don't know what we'll find. I just don't want you to get hurt. Okay?"
She deflated a little. "Okay."
He gazed off into the distance for a minute, along the road leading toward Black Jack, before turning back to her. "Listen, Heather.... About that kiss—."
She held out a hand to stop him. "You don't have to explain, I get it. It doesn't matter." She'd already regretted ever bringing it up, the day before. She didn't regret kissing him, but a month had passed since that day, and he hadn't mentioned it again. Had avoided her, instead. That should've been a clear enough message for her. "It meant nothing."
He held her eyes briefly, not speaking. Heather tried to read something in his gaze, but couldn't decipher what he was thinking.
"The mayor says he's all done with fueling up." Dale sauntered over. "He says we're ready to go."
With a last long look in Heather's direction, Jake pushed up off the car and made for the driver's door. It wasn't until weeks later, when she sat alone in a cell in New Bern, expecting not to make it out alive, that Heather wondered what Jake would've said if she hadn't interrupted him, or if Dale hadn't come over before he had a chance to reply. Might her life have turned out differently if he'd had a chance to speak?
She'd never know.