Page 22 of Citadel

Breanna and I stare in astonishment. His shoulder must have gotten dislocated, and he forced it back into place.

I’ve never seen anything like it outside of a movie.

He doesn’t comment on it. Just mutters we better get going.

We’re still following the line of the James River, and there’re more surviving towns and structures now than on the coast. The hurricanes might have reached this far inland, but the buildings weren’t completely wiped out by them. There are no established communities, however.

We haven’t run into another human being in all the days we’ve been traveling.

Which is why it’s such a shock when one afternoon, a couple of days after my near fall over the cliff, just as we’re cresting a hill, following a crumbling road, we hear the sound of an engine.

Anengine.

The three of us all process it at the same time. Cole reacts the quickest, shooing me and Breanna off the road and pulling out his pistol.

Then a pickup truck comes into view from the east, driving in the same direction we’re walking.

We don’t move. There’s nowhere to hide anyway, and now it’s too late. Surely Cole is menacing enough to scare off most attackers.

The truck slows down as it approaches. Then I can see that it’s an old man driving it. There’s a matching old lady leaning over the driver and aiming a rifle at us.

Breanna and I immediately put up our hands.

“What you folks doin’ in these parts?” the man asks.

“Traveling through,” Cole says. He’s still got the pistol in his hand, but he’s not aiming it at the older couple.

“Where you comin’ from?”

“The coast,” he says. “They lost their people, so I’m tryin’ to find them somewhere safe.” Cole must be making an effort to sound friendlier than normal because he isn’t quite his normal brusque self.

“Didn’t think anyone was left on the coast,” the lady says. She’s still aiming the rifle, but she looks more relaxed now. “That’s really where you’re from?”

“Yes,” Breanna says with a smile. “We’ve been there, but there’s no one left for us now. We need a new home. Do you know of any communities hereabouts?”

The old people look at each other. Then turn back to us. “You decent people? The fella looks kind of rough.”

“Yes! We are. My sister and I are just trying to survive. And Cole has been helping us when he didn’t have to.”

“Okay,” the old lady says. “If your man will put away his weapons, y’all can get in the back. Our town is about an hour east. We got a few hundred left, and so far we’re getting by. I assume y’all aren’t afraid of hard work.”

“No! We’re happy to work. We’d appreciate any help, and I promise we won’t be any trouble.” Breanna has the most winning, engaging smile most people have ever seen. It’s nearly impossible to resist her, and most people don’t even want to.

It feels like a miracle when the old couple lets us climb into the bed of the pickup and then starts driving.

I cling to the side since the road is bouncy, and it’s been years since I’ve ridden in a vehicle other than a boat. Breanna and I exchange hopeful looks, and even Cole appears somewhat dazed.

Can this actually be happening? Is the entire last leg of our trip being cut down to an hour? And we’re being taken directly to an established town of a few hundred other people?

Somewhere we might actually be safe?

I’m not going to believe it until we see it, but it’s the first time in a long time I’ve felt something resembling hope.

* * *

The couple’s names are Theresa and Ned. Theresa opens the back window from the cab and chats with Breanna the entire drive, asking about the coast, our families, what we’ve seen on our trip, and why the big fella refuses to smile.

Breanna answers her easily in her charismatic manner. As far as I can tell, she’s not faking. She must like these people as much as I do.

---