Page 103 of Last Light

But it’s better than it was.

Life isn’t going to be good—not anymore, not like it was for four days at that house. But that wasn’t real. This is.

And at the end of the world, you learn to take what comes.

You don’t daydream about better.

I go to sleep, aware of Travis occasionally caressing my hair, my neck, my face.

At least he doesn’t feel so far away from me anymore.

Ten

THE NEXT DAY IS A LOTlike the one before.

We’re finally getting out of the mountains, and the woods are slowly thinning into hilly pastureland. In some ways this makes traveling easier, but it also leaves us a lot more exposed.

People in this area haven’t left like they did in Virginia—which is on the coast and threatened by hurricanes—or in the parts of West Virginia and Kentucky that were bombarded by all those damaging earthquakes.

Folks around here must have had it pretty good in terms of natural disasters, but that means there’s a lot more of them around. Most of the towns are occupied and guarded, but there are also groups still living on farms and in small communities throughout the countryside.

We’re shot at a few times as we drive by. Just warning shots, but still... It makes me nervous. We’ve been able to stay under the radar for most of our journey, but here at the end we can no longer keep out of sight.

We stop a couple of times to plan a route away from any sort of town or community, but it’s harder than it should be. I remember driving to Saint Louis when I was a kid, and once we got away from the East Coast, it felt like we’d go miles and miles without seeing any sign of life except the other cars on the interstates.

But now the middle of Kentucky feels crowded.

Too crowded.

Travis is on edge. The dog doesn’t look comfortable cramped up on the floor at my feet. And more than once I wonder why we’re even doing this.

This trip is taking forever, and there’s a good chance the drove will have gotten to Fort Knox before us. Even if we get there first, why would they believe us? And if we can persuade them to leave, where will everyone go then?

I think longingly about the little house we left behind but push it out of my mind.

Even that house probably wouldn’t stay safe forever.

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