Page 2 of Homestead

“Must’ve been a trailhead,” Grandpa says, just as surprised as I am.

The pavement is crumbling and filled with potholes, but there’s still occasionally a faded hint of the painted lines from parking spaces. “Look—there’s a sign.”

When he shifts into park, I jump out and hurry over to lift the toppled sign. Most of it is unreadable, but enough remains to prove it used to be a trail map and instructions for hikers.

I let the sign drop because several bugs are crawling on it, skittering too close to my hands.

“Think this musta been part of the national park or somethin’,” Grandpa says. He’s a small, lanky man with untrimmed gray hair and a long, wiry beard. I’ve always encouraged him to improve his hygiene and self-care, but he insists there’s no point anymore. “Look, got a building over there. Get back in and we’ll check it out.”

I climb into my seat, wiping my hands on my jeans, which have stretched and thinned so much over the years that it now feels like mere threads are holding them together.

They’re the jeans I was wearing when I left Bentonville at fourteen. I was a little chubby back then, having developed hips and boobs early and disliking exercise. My calorie intake dropped drastically after Impact, and my activity level increased. So even though my body has changed and matured over the years, I can still wear the same size. I do have other clothes that I’ve managed to scavenge, but none of them fit as well as these old jeans. I dread having to give them up.

Grandpa drives us over to the small building—half of it has collapsed from the elements and disrepair—and I slide behind the steering wheel as he gets out to investigate.

He taught me to drive early on, and we never leave our vehicle unattended if there’s any choice.

I look around at the parking lot as he disappears around the back in search of a usable entrance. There are a couple of abandoned cars. And on the far side of the lot, there’s an exit onto an old road.

A paved road.

This is all new to me. The scene feels foreign. Alien. We haven’t emerged from the safety of these woods for nine years.

Grandpa returns in a few minutes, grumbling that it’s hopeless and the building looks to already be pillaged anyway.

“Should we try the road?” I ask him, pointing toward the exit.

“S’pose so. Looks like this area mighta been more developed, so maybe there’s more supplies around here.”

“Maybe there’re people.”

That’s not a hopeful statement. It’s an anxious one. We have occasionally encountered travelers or other holed-up inhabitants in the woods, but they’ve always been more a threat than a promise. Grandpa had to kill a couple of men who liked the looks of me too much, and one couple took off with a whole box of supplies we’d found. A few we encountered were nice. Grandpa has always told me to flutter my eyelashes and act helpless so they might feel sorry for us. It sometimes works, but it’s always felt like a risk.

I’d rather stay away from people if possible since they can so rarely be trusted.

Grandpa is over seventy now. I try not to think about what will happen to me when he dies.

I’ve never been on my own. I’ve always had someone to take care of me.

I drive us out of the parking lot and onto the rough pavement of the damaged road. The surrounding area is still partly wooded, but it’s different. Not as thick and impenetrable as we’re used to. When we get to the top of a big hill, I can actually see out into the distance. Trees and fields and hills and old roads and even a couple of actual towns that are probably abandoned now.

Beyond that, it looks like farms. More settlements.

It’s hard to tell from this distance, but they might not be deserted.

Maybe people live out this way. Not just hermits and stragglers but actual communities.

I’m honestly not sure they exist anymore.

“Don’t know about this, Chloe, doll.” Grandpa is frowning as he squints out at the expansive view.

“Yeah. I know. Should we turn around?”

“Think so. Looks like people live out this way. Can’t trust ’em.”

I’m already making a U-turn. It feels scarily open here without the shelter of the forest. I don’t like it. I want to get back.

After a minute, I hear a sound behind us. I don’t immediately recognize what it is because it’s so out of context.

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