Page 34 of Embers

The only thing that bothers me about our new situation is that Cal keeps letting other people believe he’s my dad.

He’s not my father. He’s nothing like my father. But he always calls me kid when we’re out and about. He only calls me baby at night when we’re alone. And I guess our age difference leads others to the assumption that we’re family when we’re not.

I don’t make a big deal about it since ultimately it doesn’t matter what other people think, but it still bothers me sometimes.

In the early summer, I turn twenty-one, and Cal gives me a pretty red gemstone set in a flower pendant on a gold chain. I have no idea how he managed to find such a beautiful piece of jewelry. I love it more than anything I’ve ever owned and wear it every day.

We’re having to travel farther and farther out to find houses and shops to scavenge, so most of our trips are overnight now and some even longer. In mid-July, we decide it’s worth the risk and fuel to take an even longer trip, and we go east, hitting abandoned small communities and farms in the rural regions we find.

We do pretty well. We come away with more than enough food and supplies for the time spent and gas used. Occasionally we encounter other travelers or locals as we go, but we don’t run into any real trouble.

It’s not as chaotic around here as it used to be. Few towns are left that are in control of gangs, and most of the violent types have joined up with droves or roving gangs or else been killed off. Or they’ve settled down to scrape out an existence the best they can like the rest of us.

Of course, none of that means we can relax. Even everyday people might turn violent if they’re hungry enough or the temptation is strong enough. But I feel almost comfortable on the road now in a way I never did before.

Cal and I know what we’re doing. That doesn’t mean we can let down our guard, but chances are we’ll be okay as long as we don’t run smack into hostiles.

We’re on our way back from the four-day trip when we hear gunfire in the distance. It’s not an uncommon occurrence even now, so it’s not a reason to panic. We react quickly. Cal is in the passenger seat, and he reaches for his assault rifle, rolling his window down and hanging halfway out of the truck so he can fire back if he needs to. I pull the pickup off the back road we’ve been following, speeding up enough to push through some scrubby foliage that lines the road.

Cal’s truck drives fine on all kinds of terrain, and getting off the road is the simplest and most obvious safety precaution.

When we reach the top of a hill, I see the source of the noise. A gunfight. Between two people behind a pickup truck and a group of attackers.

I pull our truck to a stop.

“Looks like an ambush. The folks in the truck were probably just passin’ through.”

I see now Cal is likely right. The attackers have a fortified position, and they clearly waited until the road narrowed and curved tightly before they struck.

“It doesn’t look like a normal gang.” I’m squinting, trying to identify details. “They don’t even look very old. Are they teenagers?”

“Yep.” Cal has pulled back into his seat since we’re not immediately in danger. “Looks like eight of ’em. That youngest ain’t more’n fourteen.” He lets out a weird breath. “Fuck.”

“What should we do?” For some reason, seeing kids younger than me attacking innocent travelers is one of the worst things I’ve ever encountered.

“We can go wide and avoid the whole fuckin’ mess.”

I lick my lips. Turn my head to meet Cal’s eyes.

He gives a brief nod, clearly reading my mind. “Maybe we can scare ’em. Come at ’em from behind. They’re barely more’n kids. They might run when they lose the advantage.”

“Okay. Let’s try that.”

His eyes somehow get darker as his gaze pins me down. “We can give it a try. But if they fight back, we’re takin’ off. Right away. No argument.”

I nod slowly.

“I mean it. I feel bad for those folks too, but they’re strangers. And if it comes down to you or a couple of strangers, I’m always gonna pick you.”

My chest tightens at the gruff words. “I get it. Believe it or not, I wouldn’t be too happy if you were hurt or killed either.”

His eyes flare with warmth so briefly I almost miss it. Then I stiffen my back, poise my foot over the gas pedal and brace my hands on the wheel. “So just drive at them?”

“Yeah. Right at ’em. I’ll start shooting.”

“No kill shots unless you have to. They’re just kids.”

“I know. I don’t wanna kill ’em either.”

---