Chương 68

Gladice drove with both hands on the wheel. The old pickup rattled over the patched road. Louis sat in the passenger seat with the cane between his knees and the sheriff's radio in his lap. He took out the blackened locket, held it in his palm for a few seconds, then returned it to his pocket. Pieces of glass still clung to his sleeve, and he could smell blood on his clothes. In the back, Angelique studied a map with the shotgun between her boots. Jennifer held the valise against her chest.

They remained silent as the road turned beneath the pines and the bait store disappeared behind them. Louis broke the silence.

"I got the call out." Gladice kept her eyes on the road.

"To who?"

"The number I knew. A pizza place across from the Dominion embassy in Richmond. He walked the message over."

"A what?" Gladice glanced at him.

"A pizza place?"

"Used to order from the place a lot when I was there with my dad. I memorized the number." She laughed.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm not." He looked down at the radio in his lap.

"It's the only way I know to reach the Dominion from here without raising a million alarms." Gladice shook her head.

"You are your father's son." He did not answer. Jennifer watched them from the back seat, confused.

"What did you tell them?" Angelique asked.

"Who we are. Where we are. That we need help. I told them to come to the Florida border."

"That was smart." She lowered the map.

"If the guy actually delivered the message."

"He said he would." Angelique nodded.

"We have to hope he did." Jennifer spoke from the back seat, her voice almost lost beneath the engine.

"Will your father come?" Louis turned toward her. Her face was pale, and tears stood in her eyes.

"He'll send someone." She swallowed.

"And then I go to—where you said?"

"The Dominion. Yes."

"To live?"

"If you want." She looked down at her trembling hands.

"I don't know what to want." Gladice said, "You don't have to decide now." Jennifer nodded without looking up. For a while, the only sounds in the truck were the engine and the tires on the patched county road. Flat fields, pines, wire fences, and drainage ditches passed on either side. Gladice followed a highway sign and turned onto a smoother road. Jennifer broke the silence.

"Can we talk about the men in the store?"

"Jenny," Gladice said, "there's nothing to talk about."

"They are dead."

"Yes."

"Because of us."

"Because we are at war," Gladice said.

"Either they died or we did." Jennifer stared at the back of Gladice's head.

"Louis said the old man had family."

"He did."

"He was just doing his job."

"He was going for a shotgun, Jenny."

"Maybe he wouldn't have—""He would have." Gladice interrupted her.

"He would have killed Louis the moment he had the chance." She looked at Jennifer in the rearview mirror.

"You don't have to like it. But you better learn to live with it." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Jennifer pressed her lips together. Her chin trembled. Angelique put a hand on her shoulder. Louis looked out at the road.

"You saved my life, Gladie."

"Obviously," she said. Louis turned toward her.

"Thank you." She looked at him, then returned her attention to the road.

"You're welcome." The county road led them beneath an overpass and onto a ramp. Gladice followed it up to the main highway. She merged into the right lane and kept the pickup close to the shoulder. A long military convoy was already moving south in the left lane. Matte-green pickups, canvas-covered transports, and trucks carrying soldiers stretched along the highway beside them. A crimson X-shaped cross was painted on one of the doors. Gladice tightened her grip on the wheel.

"They're all going south," she said. The convoy moved slightly faster than they did. A military pickup drew level with them on the left, then pulled ahead. A soldier in the passenger seat, no older than Louis, looked down through the open window. He looked exhausted. A troop transport came alongside next. Soldiers sat beneath the raised rear flap with their boots over the edge and rifles between their knees. One glanced toward their pickup before looking away.

Behind it came a fuel truck with drums chained to its bed. Jennifer turned toward the left-side window.

"What's happening?"

"War," Gladice said.

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what it looks like." Angelique opened the map across her knees.

"If they are moving that much equipment south, the border is already in play."

"And we're driving right toward it," Louis said.

"Yes." The military column continued beside them. A communications truck passed, followed by two tank transporters. One of the tracked vehicles was uncovered. Jennifer pulled back from the window. Louis looked at Gladice.

"Tanks?"

"Looks like it," she said.

"M1 Abrams." Ten minutes later, traffic in the right lane had begun to slow beside the convoy. A white pickup dropped back rather than remain alongside the military trucks, and a delivery van moved onto the shoulder to give them more room. The sheriff's radio crackled in Louis's lap.

"—Butler County to all units, Sheriff Pearson confirmed deceased. Repeat, Sheriff Pearson confirmed deceased. Civilian fatality confirmed. Suspects believed armed. Exercise caution." Louis's heart jumped into his throat. Static filled the radio, followed by another dispatcher.

"State says military traffic gets priority southbound. Keep civilian lanes clear where possible." Gladice exhaled.

"There we go." Louis watched the military trucks passing on their left.

"We can't stay on the highway."

"No," Angelique agreed.

"They'll be checking cars near the border." Jennifer looked from one face to the next.

"But we need the border."

"We need a place near the border," Louis said.

"Not on it." A military truck crossed the lane divider to avoid a broken section of pavement. Gladice moved closer to the shoulder until it returned to the left lane. The radio crackled again.

"—Unit Seven reports scene secured at Earl's. Repeat, scene secured. Awaiting investigators. All units be alert for additional persons connected to Pearson shooting. Suspects may be traveling on foot or by vehicle. Number unknown." Jennifer closed her eyes.

"Can they track this truck?" Louis asked.

"Not yet," said Gladice.

"They'll check the license, but it'll take time. We can drop it before then." A sign ahead marked a narrower state route running east.

"That one?" Gladice asked. Louis checked the map, then looked at the military column beside them.

"Yes," he said.

"Take it." Gladice eased off the accelerator and waited for an engineering truck to pass on the left. Diesel exhaust drifted across their lane. When they reached the junction, she turned onto the exit ramp. The pickup jolted over a break in the pavement. The state route curved into the pines, and traffic quickly thinned. The radio continued to hiss in Louis's lap. Louis turned and looked back. Through a gap in the trees, he could still see the southbound convoy.

"Did they notice us?" Jennifer asked.

"I doubt it," Gladice said.

"They look too occupied to care about one pickup turning off." For a while, they saw no other traffic. They passed two intersections, a boarded filling station, and a small cinderblock church. At two of the crossings, wide fresh tire marks led south. The radio hissed again.

"—Attention all units. Roadblocks in effect along Interstate 65, HS 29, HS 231. Report any civilian traffic attempting to pass. Lethal force authorized for non-compliance with stop order. Repeat—" Static cut off the broadcast. Louis turned up the volume.

"Maybe don't," Gladice said.

"Better to know."

"Poor Jenny needs a break." Jennifer said, without opening her eyes, "I want to go home." Gladice glanced at her in the mirror.

"You are home, Jenny. The Free World is right over that border." Jennifer made a sound between a laugh and a sob. Angelique leaned forward. She took the radio from Louis's lap, lowered the volume, and handed it back.

"We are close." They drove another mile. Angelique kept the map open across her knees. Several smaller roads ended ahead, while the others joined the main routes leading to the border crossings.

"Turn here," Angelique said. Gladice slowed and turned onto a gravel road between two wooden posts. A faded No Trespassing sign hung from one of them. The road climbed through the pines, dropped into a hollow, and narrowed to two tire ruts. After a quarter mile, Gladice pulled beneath a stand of scrub oak and parked. She turned off the engine. The metal ticked as it cooled. Louis looked out the window. No houses or other vehicles were visible, and the trees screened the pickup from the road.

Gladice turned toward the others.

"We walk from here. Head south. If we find a line to follow, we follow it. If we find cover, we take it." Jennifer's hands tightened on the valise strap.

"How far is it?"

"Depends," Gladice said.

"Could be five miles. Could be less. We need to find a good place to wait until dark."

"Why not now?"

"Because we don't know who is between us and the border. I would rather not walk into a patrol in daylight." Jennifer swallowed.

"Alright." They climbed out of the pickup. The air beneath the trees was cold and damp and smelled of old leaves. Louis clipped the sheriff's radio to the outside of the backpack before Gladice put it on. The pack held their food, water, and ammunition, and she carried the rifle. Angelique took the shotgun and the field bag. Louis kept the M1911 at the back of his waistband and picked up the cane. Pain went through his knee when he put his weight on it. Jennifer carried only the valise, pressed against her chest.

Louis had not seen her open it since the cabin. They left the pickup beneath the scrub oaks and headed south through the trees. By the next morning, they would either reach Florida or die in Alabama.