Prepper Mountain

CHRIS BOSTIC

First printing, April 2019

Copyright © 2019, Chris Bostic

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1092594097

Cover Design by Chris Bostic

All characters and events in this book are fictitious products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

DEDICATION

To my loving family;

Thanks for putting up with me while

I turn every great vacation into

a survivalist disaster

.

CHAPTER 1

For most people, the last day of sophomore year should have been a time for celebration. For a while, it was off the charts. Just not long enough.

“You, uhm, excited about the summer?” I managed to ask after several quiet footsteps and an equal number of furtive looks at Katelyn Jennings. The fact she had agreed to walk home with me was astounding. Birds sang and butterflies circled—both the flowers and my stomach. I could only hope my parents didn’t blow it.

Katelyn turned her heart-shaped face to me and teased me with her big brown eyes. I dug my hands into my pockets and tried to keep a silly grin off my face. I wasn’t sure I completely succeeded.

“Yeah, we might be going to the beach at the end of June,” she said.

“Cool. Where at?” Images of Katelyn in a bikini danced in my head until I missed almost her entire reply.

“…mostly be at Myrtle, if we get to go.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I asked without thinking.

“You know,” she replied. “All the protests or whatevs. My folks have been saying that the government might shut everything down.”

“Like the beach?”

“No, silly…I mean not really. It’s more the traveling around, like out of state.” She looked at me curiously, perhaps wondering if I’d been joking. I tried not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

I knew things in general seemed pretty awful. Far worse than I could ever remember, not that I’d paid much attention before. But everyone was definitely edgy, and the cops were everywhere, watching everything. My parents helped remind me of that all the time. Still, I had no clue about the government cracking down on people traveling. That seemed ridiculous, and equally as unlikely.

“If we get to go, my folks wanted to at least keep it close to home…so they were thinking Myrtle.”

“I hope it all works out. That, uhm, sounds nice.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s gonna be awesome. I can’t wait.” She smiled, forming the cutest dimples in her round cheeks. “How about you, Zach?”

I struggled to think of a way to make my summer plans sound more exciting. There wasn’t much to say to spice it up. “We’re going camping in the Smokies.”

“Oh.” A little frown creased her forehead. “Like in a tent?”

“I think so.”

“That sounds, uh…”

Horrible, I know. “Maybe we’ll get a cabin this year.”

“You don’t have one of those camper things?”

She was right. It seemed like everyone around there had some kind of pop-up or the tow behind ones. It was surprising too. It was something outdoorsy parents like mine should’ve had—preferably with air conditioning. Anything had to be better than a rock or tree root poking through the thin vinyl floor of a tent.

I just shrugged and pretended to avoid one of the many cracks in the deteriorating sidewalk.

Katelyn looked at the hazy green of the mountaintops in the distance and smirked. “At least you don’t have far to drive.”

“Yeah, not even a half hour. At least when the tourists aren’t around.” I looked at her and grinned. “I guess if travel’s shut down, that definitely won’t be a problem.”

“True enough.” Katelyn smiled back. “I didn’t think anybody who lived around here actually went to the park. Seems kinda crowded in the summer.”

“Really crowded,” I replied. “Or it used to be. My dad was saying that no one’s been doing much vacationing the last couple years on account of the epic depression, so maybe a travel ban wouldn’t make a difference.” Saying that made me realize Katelyn’s folks must’ve had really good jobs. And still had them, unlike so many others. Most folks barely had enough to eat since the stock market collapsed.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Katelyn adjusted her backpack and scratched her chin. “I guess there’s lots of poor folks now and such. Are you guys-”

I interrupted before she could ask about my situation. “It’s not much farther. At least it’s not too hot today.”

“Another typical Knoxville summer, huh?” Katelyn sighed. “Is it always this hot down in the valleys?”

“Yeah. Where’d you move here from?”

“Nashville. It’s not any cooler.” She pushed a lock of long brown hair off her forehead before it matted with sweat. “Probably hotter.”

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. It wasn’t horribly damp—yet. “It’s cooler in the mountains.” Temperature-wise, but maybe not in the other, more important, way.

I supposed that her moving to town recently was the only reason she had been willing to come home with me. All the other locals knew about my unique situation. Of them, my friend Joe seemed to be the most understanding. He was more of a class clown who never took anything too seriously.

“I pity the ones who can’t afford air conditioning,” Katelyn said, probably not meaning to come off like a snob. Not that I would’ve held it against her. She was too pretty to offend me for long.

I worried more that she’d see the fans in our windows and would immediately figure out that we were one of those newly poor, unfortunate families. But better that than the aluminum foil that usually covered them. Before I could start to regret asking her to come over, we were almost there.

“Just one more block,” I said. “You sure you don’t want me to carry your backpack?”

“That’s sweet, but it really doesn’t weigh a thing. I took pretty much all my junk home yesterday.” She smiled and softly added, “I’m really glad you asked me to come over.”

I choked on my saliva, and barely managed to spit out, “Well, I’m…glad you agreed to.”

“Don’t be silly.” She laughed it off, as if it was completely normal for a guy like me to be seen with a girl as perfect as her. I thought it had been a longshot when I’d asked her to hang out with me. Even then, I still didn’t believe she’d agreed.

Before I could dwell on my good fortune, she added, “You know, it was weird that we were texting the last couple weeks, then nothing. I thought you were mad at me.”

“No way. It was just, uhm, the phone thing.”

“So you were saying your phone had a bug?”

I hesitated before saying, “Sorta.” It was more like a different kind of bug.

“Are you gonna get a new one soon?”

Though encouraged that she cared enough to ask, I really needed to dodge the question. There was no way to answer even half-truthfully and not scare her off.

Before the pause became too awkward, I came up with something. “It, uhm, might be a while…I think.”

“Why?”

“Things are just really messed up now.”

“With the phone?”

I nodded, cursing myself for not being able to tell the truth about my crazy parents. I’d told myself she’d find out everything eventually, but I hadn’t expected it would be so soon.

We rounded the corner to head down my cul-de-sac and were greeted by more flashing lights than a nightclub. The police cars didn’t surprise me. That was nothing new. It was the trio of black Suburbans with darkened windows that set me on full alarm. Two blocked the driveway, pinning our Jeep in front of the garage. The third was parked sideways in our yard.

I grabbed Katelyn’s hand, something I never could’ve done without full-on panic spurring me on. “We, uh, we’d better go to your house.”

“What? Is that-”

I pulled her hand, cutting her question short, and dragged her across the street.

“Shouldn’t we-”

“No.” I wanted to tell her it was the neighbors, but couldn’t lie. “That looks serious. We’d better stay out of the way.”

She dug in her heels, not ready to be hauled away without an explanation. “What about your folks, Zach? Was your house next door?”

The words flew out faster than I could think. “They’re not home now. And my house looked fine…really. We should probably stay outta the way.” At least I didn’t give anything away, and she seemed to buy the explanation.

“I hope everything’s okay,” Katelyn said, her voice subdued. The cute little wrinkle across her forehead caught a tiny drip of sweat. I raised my free hand to dab it away.

“It’s all good. Don’t worry.”

If only I could’ve listened to my own advice.

CHAPTER 2

As much as I wanted to forget about the jet black vehicles, I couldn’t. Katelyn had popped in an old superhero movie in the coolness of her basement theater room and I’d unexpectedly found myself snuggled with her on the couch. The blanket had given my hands some cover for when the opportunity came for a little exploring, but I needed too much time to work up the courage.

Her older brother hadn’t come home yet, and her mom had stopped in for a quick hello before heading back upstairs. The alone time had been everything I imagined it would be, except for the nagging feeling that I needed to get home.

Every time the movie had cut to soldiers or secret agents, my mind went back to the scene at my house. Katelyn had probably known I was distracted; I’d done a terrible job hiding my worries. With a quick apology, I had to cut our first date painfully short and headed home.

Katelyn had been nice enough to offer to come along, but I hadn’t needed to think long about turning her down. That wasn’t the way I wanted to introduce my family to her. If possible, I would’ve preferred she never had to meet them. I’d have rather lived on her couch permanently.

I hurried along the street, covering the eight blocks faster than I ever had before. Not too fast, though. A jog at best. Anything more would’ve soaked me with perspiration, and I probably wouldn’t have made it. Though tall and fairly slender, running wasn’t my strong suit —not that many other things were either.

One block away, I rushed past Joe’s house and didn’t bother stopping. He’d given me the thumbs up back at school when he’d seen me starting home with Katelyn. I owed him the details sometime, but that would have to wait until later.

I paused before rounding the corner to my street and took a deep breath. After wiping the sweat off my brow with a shirt sleeve, I decided to stroll by naturally out on the main road, planning to take a quick peek down the block toward the cul-de-sac and keep on going if the lights were still flashing. I could come back later when the action died down.

But that wouldn’t be necessary. The agents’ vehicles were gone.

I stopped in the middle of the street to scan my house. Only our battered old Jeep was pulled out on the driveway.  Dad’s minivan was parked inside the garage. Then I spotted a lone black Suburban parked halfway up the block, pointing toward my house. We really were under surveillance. Again. Why this time?

There was no point in walking on, especially since whoever was in the Suburban had probably already seen me. I crossed to the sidewalk on the side of the street opposite the Feds, and walked straight for my house without slowing. No one made an attempt to stop me.

I pushed the front door open to find my sister Maddie sprawled on the couch. She shot up as the floor creaked, and said, “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Nice to see you too.”

She snorted and turned back to the television, but not before I saw the black smudges under her eyes. Maddie’s raccoon eyes were bleeding onto her cheeks where she had more foundation than a skyscraper.

I couldn’t believe my parents let her wear that much make-up, but they didn’t care as long as it was all-natural. That meant homegrown, like pretty much all our food.

After quickly confirming that nothing seemed out of place, including our pointless crates of dehydrated fruit, canned vegetables, and a pile of blankets stacked in the living room, I sat on the arm of the couch. “What’s up, Mad-eyes?”

“More like Mad-die,” she said, stifling a sniffle. “Luke’s never gonna ask me out if the Feds keep showing up over here.”

Though I often liked to pick on her a little to get a reaction, I decided not to rub in my good news about Katelyn. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard for him not to notice, huh?” Not unlike how it would be hard for anyone to miss the ridiculous stack of tubs on the far wall next to the television, or the so-called “bug out” backpacks piled in the other corner.

She turned away from me to reach for a Kleenex. “Duh.”

I deserved that. He lived four houses up the street, about where the Suburban was parked to keep watch over us.

“Nice talking to you.” I didn’t need to get involved in her dating drama, so I stood up to go find my parents. “Hang in there, baby sis.”

“I’m not a baby,” she blubbered and blew her nose like a trumpet. “I’m in high school now.”

“Unfortunately,” I whispered under my breath. The last thing I needed for next year was both my siblings embarrassing me around the hallways.

I heard the thump of bass and the sound of crashing chords echoing through the floor from the basement. My older brother, Austin, was probably down there, listening to some alternative rock bands singing about the impending end of the world. I doubted that was on the government-approved playlist. We were subjected to nothing but ultrapatriotic tunes on the government-run radio stations, and a brand new national anthem every morning at school.

There wasn’t much for me to say to Austin anyway, so I generally avoided the basement. Leaving Maddie and her tears behind in the living room, I turned to the kitchen.

My dad was sitting in a chair, poring over the newspaper like it held the secrets to the universe. He wore the same type of dress clothes he would’ve worn when he was still working. He’d been laid off from his bank job since the first of the year, and still dressed like he might head into the office any minute.

Dad lowered the paper long enough to say, “Hi, Zach. How was your last day of school?”

Before I could reply, the paper barrier shifted back into place, blocking out his face. “Fine,” I said noncommittally, and wondered if he’d be the first one to mention our visitors.

Dad turned the page and kept on reading, giving me the answer. Everything looked the same in the kitchen too, including the towering stack of towels and washcloths on top of crates of mason jars that completely took over one counter. Whoever they’d been, at least they didn’t seem to have made a huge mess this time.

“So…uhm, we had some people stop by today?”

His voiced carried through the Knoxville Tribune. “I guess you could say that.”

“And?”

“Just more of the same.”

“Meaning?”

Dad sighed and lowered the paper. “Some government crackpot didn’t take a liking to my latest articles on the erosions to personal liberty and the sorry state of the economy. Minimum acceptable rates of return are astronomical. The cost of capital can’t be supported by the equity holders, meaning private investment is in the crapper…not to mention that regulations have quadrupled under the new regime. Figure in that the FDIC is every bit as broke as the Treasury.” He rattled his paper as if he was shaking the ink off the page like ants. “They’re not going to cover the defaults, and we’re way too far gone to save ourselves. But how could we? Fifty trillion in debt will do that, you know? Especially when the bills are due.”

Whenever he started spouting jargon, it was easiest to agree. “Sure, I guess.”

“Darn right. And still they keep spending money like drunken sailors to prop up a military industrial apparatus that’s squeezing the liberty out of this country day by precious day. We’re at the crossroads, that’s all I wrote.”

“Yeah, that’s all,” I mumbled, trying to hide my concern. I knew Dad had a tendency to go full rogue—hence our recent visitors—but this seemed like a dangerously bold charge. There was no doubt freedom of speech had eroded significantly in the last couple years. First, the multiple financial crises that had led to rampant crime. Then the new president, who my parents often referred to as the dictator-in-chief.

Dad lowered the paper with a scowl. “These jokers, it’s criminal. As if we needed another bailout to bail out the last bailout, or the one before that. It’s past hopeless, especially since the Feds are really trampling all over our freedoms now, and not just in the financial sectors.” He snorted and turned back to his reading, effectively dismissing me. That was fine with me. I knew the country faced some serious financial problems, not just in Knoxville. Far worse than any recession, or apparently any depression too. It was worldwide pain, though Dad made it about as easy to understand as a geometry proof. Side-angle-side seemed more like a way to describe politics, but with more opposing viewpoints than an octagon—but none as dangerous as the dictator-in-chief’s.

I stood in the doorway for a while longer, wondering if I should head off to my room or be more concerned about why someone was sitting up the road observing us. The whole treasonous article thing only made partial sense, since full-time surveillance seemed a bit of an overreaction. Then again, the government wasn’t afraid of a show of force, as my mom often said.

“Harold!” Mom called from somewhere upstairs. “You move the key to the safe?”

“Wasn’t me!” Dad grumbled as he stood up and neatly folded the newspaper. He laid it on the table nonchalantly, and the headline flew at me like a 3D movie.

Martial Law Declared in Knoxville.

I froze, ignoring whatever Mom said in reply. As soon as Dad disappeared upstairs, I snatched it off the table. Except for a school project, it had to be the first newspaper I’d read in my life.

Other ominously titled articles took up the whole first page underneath the headline.

National Guard Deployed.

Six Dead in Clash with Police.

Travel Restricted Without Permit.

The paper slipped from my fingers to land on the table. It couldn’t drown out Austin’s growling anarchy metal, which seemed to take on a life of its own. As the music swirled around me, I shook, not from the beat. Or lack thereof.

I couldn’t believe what was happening to our town. Only it was, and it was about to get much worse.

CHAPTER 3

“Kids?” Mom called from upstairs, shaking me out of my stupor.

“Yeah?” I answered for Maddie, who remained balled up on the couch.

“Come on up, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” I walked back into the living room first to shake Maddie out of her lovesick lethargy. “Mom needs us upstairs.”

“What for?” She rolled over, wiping drool from her mouth. Even more terrifying were the bloodshot, puffy eyes.

“Whoa! What the-”

I bumped into the coffee table as I backed away from the crazed raccoon, afraid of getting rabies from her pink polished talons.

“Really, Zach.” Maddie sat up with a huff.

I kept a hand clutched to my chest to keep my heart inside. “Sorry, but you should really ease up on the eyeshadow. You look like you’re wearing a Halloween mask.”

“Thanks.” She ran a hand through her disheveled raven-colored hair. “Like you’ve never looked your best.”

“At least I’ve never looked like a red-eyed zombie before.”

“Vampires have the red eyes, dumbass.”

“No wonder you like to sit in the dark all the time.” I laughed at my own joke, which was more common than I preferred. Somehow no one else seemed to appreciate my particular brand of humor.

“Jeez, you’re such a moron.” Maddie finished pulling her long hair into a ponytail, leaving a few strands loose to frame her ghastly face—probably on purpose. She wasn’t completely obsessed with contrasting black and pale like some kids. She was too worried about being pretty and popular to do all that. “Not all vampires need to stay out of the sun, you know.”

“Good, then I’m pulling the blinds.” I strode over the window and grabbed the cord. Before I could give it a yank, a sharp voice startled me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mom said.

“Jeez, Mom. You scared the crap outta me.”

“Better now than later,” she replied. “You never were a fan of taking a dump in the woods.”

“Mom, gross,” Maddie said.

“Point taken, darling,” Mom said. “Anyway, you two forget that I was wanting to speak to you?”

“Uhm…no.” I dropped the cord to the blinds and turned the rest of the way around to face her. “What about Austin?”

“He’s already helping me out. At least I have one kid who listens.”

I fought back a retort and nodded.

Mom was looking like a zoo keeper again today, which had nothing to do with her actual job in pharmaceutical sales. She was in her knee-length khaki shorts and matching tan button-up shirt.

“I need you to gather up your stuff. We’re gonna start our, erm, vacation a bit early.”

“Now?” Maddie shrieked and shared a quick glance with me.

“It’s barely June. I thought we were going in July.” I didn’t add anything about needing more time to hang out with Katelyn, but it was foremost in my mind. Especially since it sounded like her trip to Myrtle Beach was canceled.

“Plans change.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Like I always say, Be Prepared.”

“That’s the Boy Scout motto.” I snorted at the irony. Even though my buddy Joe was in Scouts, she hadn’t let me stay in the program. Still, she always ran around quoting them.

“Whatever. At least they got that part right.”

“Right, because they’re not good enough at making kids self-reliant.”

“Not as good as me.” Mom headed over toward the door to the basement, slowing the stride of her hiking boots only long enough to make her case for the thousandth time. “Video Game Merit Badge, that’s just a joke. And a badge for chess too. Seriously, Zach? Might as well be Girl Scouts.”

Mom opened the door and disappeared down the steps, presumably leaving Dad upstairs to work on his packing. That left me with a still sleepy, or rather lovesick, Maddie stunned in the living room.

“What the heck was that all about?” she asked, probably not expecting me to answer.

“I have no idea.” I truly didn’t. Then the newspaper headline popped back into my head. I took off for the kitchen, saying, “You gotta see this.”

“What?”

“Hang on, sis,” I said as I grabbed the paper off the table and rushed back to thrust it in her face. “Read it.”

“Yeah, the world sucks. So what?”

“The part about travel restricted.” I shook the paper like Dad had done earlier, trying to prove a point that wasn’t about to sink in through her over-dyed hair. “Who plans a trip in the middle of a martial law crackdown.”

“Our mother,” Maddie deadpanned. “Are you surprised?”

She had a point. Only Mom would do something crazy like that. Especially after the Feds had just been there.

“So, what were the cops looking for?”

“Was it cops?” Maddie said, questioning my word choice. She stifled a yawn before continuing. “It looked like a bunch of guys in suits and sunglasses. I thought they might be looking for aliens or something. I kinda expected the one guy to pull out that pen thingy and tell us all to stare at it.”

“The mind eraser?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“You watch too many movies. But seriously…what were they doing here this time?”

“I dunno.” My sister chased a loose lock of hair across her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “They took Dad’s laptop and all our old cell phones, but that was about it.”

“Good thing he hasn’t used that thing in years.” It wasn’t such a good thing about us losing our phones. Not that I had expected to get mine turned back on, but it brought home the idea that I really wasn’t going to be able to text Katelyn anytime soon.

Maddie headed across the room toward the steps. She paused on the first one to remark wryly, “Considering that they’d already been bugged, I don’t know why they wanted our phones.”

“If that’s true,” I muttered. It sounded like conspiracy theory nonsense to me, but Dad remained convinced someone was out to spy on all of us, not just him.

Maddie disappeared upstairs, seemingly more willing to pack than I would’ve expected. Ordinarily, she’d whine for a week about a simple camping trip. She’d been going on for ages about how she had no interest in making the trip to the Smokies our only summer vacation. Her sights were set on beaches, apparently much like Katelyn’s.

I never understood the connection between girls and beaches. I couldn’t have cared less about sun and sand, not that the mountain getaway was going to be any better. Not with my crazy family.

“Zach?” Mom interrupted my thoughts with one of her typical shouts from halfway across the house. The woman never stood still and rarely lowered her voice.

“Yes?”

“Give me a hand with the rain barrel, honey?”

“Sure.” I wanted to ask her what Austin was doing. Her favorite son was supposed to be downstairs too, but he must’ve been too busy planning his latest piercing to be bothered. Or maybe he actually was packing.

I strolled down the steps in no hurry at first before jumping the last two onto the hard concrete. Music thumped from the opposite corner. A sliver of light poured from beneath Austin’s door, lighting a path on the cold floor. Ever since he had moved to the basement, we heard him far more than we ever saw him.

“Over here,” Mom said, and I knew exactly where she would be. I had to push my way past a wall of plastic tubs before finding her in the back corner by a giant blue water jug. She had an empty milk carton in each hand.

“We need to pack a bunch for the trip,” she said. “Might as well bring it with us rather than waste it here.”

All I could see was myself ending up sitting on, or underneath, milk jugs in the back of the Jeep. “Isn’t there plenty of free water in all the streams?”

“Sure, but we’d have to treat that. Might as well use up the clean water first.”

I shrugged and kneeled next to her. I wasn’t so sure how water from the roof could be any cleaner than a mountain stream, but I knew better than to ask. I’d get a thirty minute dissertation on how rainwater harvesting was saving the planet—and our family checkbook.

Mom patted the oversized spigot on the bottom of the tank, and I got a partial lecture. “This filter makes it purer than that crap they sell in the store…for a tidy profit too, I might add.” She handed me the first jug. “Set ‘em in the crates as I fill ‘em?”

“Sure.”

We worked an assembly line production until the whole tank ran dry. There was easily fifty gallons. Good thing it hadn’t rained in quite a while or we would’ve run out of empty milk jugs.

She hopped to her feet, ready to sprint off to her next task. Before she could leave, I had to ask, “Why are we leaving so soon?”

“It’s time,” she said cryptically.

“How so? I don’t get it.”

“It’s just time to go.” She patted my cheek like I was a two-year-old. “Don’t worry, honey. Momma’s in charge.”

“That’s what scares me,” I muttered to myself as she bounded upstairs.

CHAPTER 4

After moping to the sound of Austin’s muffled war music for a moment, I finally headed off to my room to pack. I pushed the door open to my hideout from a world of crazy.

Every day when I came home from school, I expected to find my entire room reorganized into military precision like our basement storeroom. Instead, the blanket was still thrown haphazardly across the bed, which was completely normal. I pulled open my closet door to find everything exactly where I had put it. Not neat enough to please my dad. It barely pleased me, and I wasn’t that picky.

I found my duffel bag under a small pile of semi-dirty clothes in the far corner of the room. I threw it on the bed and started shoving in a little bit of everything. Upon realizing I only had one fistful of clean underwear, I stepped to the hallway.

“How long are we staying?”

No one answered.

“Dad? Mom? I need to know how many days of clothes to pack.”

I expected the usual answer that I needed to bring five or six days of boxers, maybe even a week to ten days. Any more than that, and they’d be doing laundry because no one has more than ten pairs of underwear. Especially not all clean at the same time.

I was met with more silence. Before I could raise my voice to Mom-like levels, she finally replied.

“Bring all you’ve got, kiddo. Dirty ones too.”

I shook my head, not expecting that answer. “All?”

“Yes, please.”

“Uhm, okay.”

I returned to my room to make clothes sausage, cramming everything into the one bag and sitting on it. The seams stretched painfully and the zipper groaned as I finally jammed practically my entire wardrobe into the bag. It was amazing how much space gym shorts and t-shirts took up.

Even if we had air conditioning, I would’ve been sweating after that struggle.

I flopped onto the bed. The duffel bag was too stiff to use as a headrest, so I rolled it onto the floor with a thump and stretched out on my pillow. I stared at the ceiling and wondered at how quickly my day had turned from flying on the clouds to lower than whale crap on the bottom of the ocean.

Katelyn’s heart-shaped face stayed foremost on my mind as I ran through how the day should have unfolded. She would’ve smiled and looked around my room, and not even groaned when she noticed the pile of clothes semi-arranged next to my bed. I would’ve dropped her hand long enough to straighten the blanket and waved for her to have a seat. In mere seconds, we would’ve been stretched out on the mattress, and maybe even started to make out a little as the sinking afternoon sun turned my room to shadows.

Voices from the hallway took over, stopping me at a critical point. I shook them out of my head to resume the dream. Before I could run a hand the rest of the way up Katelyn’s imaginary shirt, Mom and Dad were suddenly inches from my door arguing about clothing.

“You can’t wear khakis and dress shoes on this trip,” she said, completely ending the daydream as miserably as the rest of my summer.

“They’re slacks and loafers, and I can bring ‘em if I want to.”

“Harold, for heaven’s sake. Women wear slacks.” She paused as if considering her words. “Well most do, not me. Anyway, be a man and please pack some jeans.”

“But-”

“You’re not gonna need your ties either, darling. At least not until we need to do some field first aid, and I’ve got stuff for that.”

It probably should’ve disturbed me that Mom thought first aid was more a reality than a possibility, but I’d been used to her talking that way for years.

“Yes, dear.” Dad agreed quickly, but that wasn’t unusual either. She had a way of being firm and soft simultaneously, kind of like shaking your hand and stealing your wallet at the same time.

I heard his footsteps pad back to his bedroom, probably to dump out his entire garment bag to fill a backpack instead. It wouldn’t take much space for him to pack jeans. I’d only seen him wear one pair—ever.

Thinking of jeans, I rolled back over to bury my face in my pillow. As hard as I tried to conjure an image of Katelyn in those tight-fitting jeans she’d worn all winter long, I couldn’t concentrate. Between Mom yelling commands and the headlines in the paper, my summer was in turmoil only a few hours after it actually started.

The so-called vacation was seeming less like a semi-enjoyable family trip, and more like a giant question mark. The biggest unknown was when I’d see Katelyn again. I had a sneaking suspicion that a full load of clothes meant it might be weeks before we got back home, and there was no doubt she would’ve given up on me by then.

With a sigh, I sat up and muttered to myself. I would’ve rather talked to a pet, but man’s best friend wasn’t welcome in our house. The opposition to cats I could almost understand, but not even a lousy guinea pig was allowed. As I was told many times, we didn’t need another mouth to feed, especially if we ever needed to bug out.

I stood up and grabbed the duffel bag off the floor. It must’ve weighed a good fifty pounds. I took one last glimpse around the room to see if I could bring anything else along to kill some time. Three or four weeks of family camping would be worse than torture, and I knew plenty about that. My parents always said the new government wasn’t reserving torture for terrorists anymore. They’d supposedly moved on to their own citizens, and were on their way to making torture as commonplace as traffic tickets.

I didn’t have a working phone, and my other electronic devices were more outdated than my dad’s tie collection. There were a couple of books lying on the floor next to my rarely used desk. I flipped over the first, one from a super-popular, fairly new dystopian series. Joe had hooked me up with that one.

There hadn’t been a lot of new movies released in a while, and especially not any with a big budget, otherwise that book surely would’ve been made into the next blockbuster. But it took money to go to movies. A ton of it. The theater had never been cheap, but it’d truly become ridiculously expensive.

I tossed the book aside, not willing to read it for a third time. The ones under it were a collection of popular stuff I really didn’t like. They were Austin’s hand-me-downs. I hated zombies and vampires, but those were right up his alley. He had left them behind when he’d moved to his new room in the basement a couple years ago, and I hadn’t been bothered to bring them to him.

“So much for reading,” I said, and turned to the door. “No phone, no games, no nothing. Should be a great time.”

“It’s not about that,” Mom said, startling me. She stood outside my door wearing a backpack, a knee-length leather jacket draped over her free arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll find ways to keep you occupied.”

“I’m sure you will,” I grumbled. We’ll probably spend all the first day making our own compost heap and digging a latrine. “Should be a real blast.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said. She hopped down the stairs with more energy than the average forty-year-old should have, leaving me planted at the top step.

I hovered for a while longer, not quite as ready to head out of town. Camping I didn’t really mind, but we never stayed in a real campground with showers and a flush toilet. Even a smelly porta-potty like the plastic ones they brought into the park for big events would’ve been an upgrade over the composting outhouses. The cobwebbed sheds they were crammed into were creepy too, and always smelled horrible. No matter how much you didn’t want to, a guy couldn’t resist taking a look into the pit. Maybe taking a dump in the woods wasn’t so bad after all.

“Coming, Zach?” Dad said as he brushed past me in the hall. He’d opted for more of a business casual look, going with brown khakis rather than the usual slick dressy pants.

I pushed aside visions of a turd monster floating in a sea of clumpy brown latrine water, and headed to the stairs.

I made it halfway down when the entire house shook. I clutched the railing to keep from slipping while the duffel bag tried to pull my arm out of its socket. Before I could get the question out, the house was enveloped in a roar that rattled the window frames. I would’ve sworn the glass would crack. The thunderous growl turned to a sonic boom and scream of jet engines.

Mom yelled something from the front door, but I couldn’t make out the words over the racket. I ran two steps at a time to join her at the doorway. We watched several fighter jets streak off toward the mountains without another word.

As I stood dumbfounded, she turned to Dad and said, “We need to load up the Jeep, Harold. That’s our cue.”

CHAPTER 5

Austin came rushing up from the basement a moment later carrying a plastic tub. “What the hell was that?”

“You know what I told you about using that kind of language in my house,” Mom shot back.

“Jeez, the world comes to an end and I still can’t say baby curses.”

Dad added a stern look. “Austin, listen to your mother.”

“Fine, whatever. What’s going on?”

“Flyover,” Mom said. “It’s beginning just like I thought.”

“Cool.” Austin dropped the tub to run to the door. “Are you sure?”

“Hard to say,” Dad replied.

“But better safe than sorry,” Mom added on quickly. “Get the rest of the MREs up here so we can finish packing the Jeep.”

Austin peered through the narrow glass panels alongside the door. “Uhm, Mom, you know there’s a strange car parked up the street watching the house.”

“Figures.” She looked over his shoulder. “That’s no car. It’s the same ole Suburban we’ve come to know and hate.” She obviously cursed under her breath, but that kind of language was perfectly fine for the adults in the house. “I should’ve known we couldn’t get rid of them that easily.”

“Who?” I asked, but no one answered. Mom told Dad to go with her and Austin downstairs to grab more of the not-so-delicious powdered food. I stood there in the entryway with Maddie waiting for someone to tell me something. It wouldn’t be my sister. She was busy staring up the street toward the black vehicle. But not at the people watching us. I’m sure it was at Luke’s house.

“What’s all this end of the world business?” Maddie said unexpectedly.

I wasn’t any expert on the subject, since I preferred to stay in my room and keep out of a lot of the non-stop conspiracy theorizing. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but say, “Have you not been paying attention? What’s Dad been talking about the last few months…maybe years?”

She didn’t take her eyes off Luke’s house. “Something about the banks…and always about how the country’s broke.”

I nodded approvingly. Other than leaving out the erosions to free speech and militarization of the police, she knew about as much as I did—and that didn’t go very far to explain why jets were flying overhead. The strange cars up the street made a little more sense, but I was not at all prepared when I heard the grumble of another pair of jet engines turn into a second round of house-rattling sonic booms.

“Those guys are in a hurry,” I said absently.

“So are we,” Mom replied, as she returned to the front room with her chin resting on top of a pair of plastic tubs.

“This is about it,” Dad said. He turned to the left and dropped his tubs by the garage door. “We’d better load up inside if they’re watching. I’ll go pull the Jeep in.”

“Good plan, darling,” Mom said, and turned to me. “As soon as we get loaded, Austin’s gonna take your dad’s Honda around the block a couple times. We’ll make sure that guy follows, then we’ll get outta here.”

I wasn’t sure how Austin would get back with us. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Before I could consider that further, Dad said, “C’mon, kids. Bring this stuff to the garage while I pull in your mom’s Jeep.”

“Sure, Pops,” Austin said.

Rather than let him show me up, I followed him out, making sure Mom and Maddie were behind me. From inside a closed garage, we made quick work of filling a four door Jeep with a seemingly endless supply of water jugs, dried food, camping gear, and so on. It helped that we had a rack on the back plugged into the trailer hitch where we could stack extra boxes. Still it was going to be ridiculously crowded, even if Austin wasn’t coming.

Dad finished winding a strap around the tubs to tie them tight to the trailer rack. He turned to Maddie and me. “You two go play outside while Austin gets in the Honda.”

“We’re not eight, Dad,” she said.

I had to agree. “We haven’t played outside in years.”

“That’s what’s wrong with kids these days,” Mom interjected.

My sister and I groaned in unison and headed toward the front door.

“Fine,” Maddie said. “What should we play, hopscotch or hide and seek?”

“Very funny,” Mom said. “You’ll be playing hide and seek soon enough, so maybe…”

“What?” I said, but everyone ignored me again.

Before I could complain, Maddie grabbed my arm and said, “Come on, big bro. Maybe we can go for a walk.”

Dad lost his usual composure. He snapped, “Don’t be going anywhere! Stay in the yard.”

“Aww, we can’t even play in the street,” Maddie fake whined.

“Just stay in the yard, please,” Dad pleaded, suddenly subdued. He sank down on the couch looking every bit of his forty-something years. Maybe more like Grandpa. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was probably pushing fifty. He was in decent shape other than a little donut around the middle from too many powdered ones.

Mom was the fit one. Besides telling us how many miles she’d walked around the hospital all day on her shifts, she was always the first to want to go for yet another walk every night. Suddenly, we couldn’t do that anymore; not with the black car parked up the street.

“Mad, what do you wanna do?” I asked as the two of us stepped out the front door.

“Go to Luke’s,” she said. “They can’t stop us if we just walk up there.”

“Does he even know you exist?”

I instantly regretted saying it that way. Her head whipped around at me, with eyes filled with something between rage and tears. Rather than snap, she mumbled, “Sorta.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, uhm, I’m kinda pissed ‘cause nobody’s telling us what’s going on, you know.”

“What’s to know? Like you said before, the world’s gone to crap.”

“And now we’re suddenly leaving early for a vacation that doesn’t really seem like one.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I mean sure, we bring MREs and that kinda junk on vacation. Mom’s weird like that. But all that extra water and clothes and stuff, like we’re leaving for a long time. This isn’t some normal camping trip. Something’s up.”

Maddie shrugged and sat on the front porch. She kept staring up the street, showing no interest in anything other than maybe feeling sorry for herself.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, I walked out to the giant maple tree in our front yard.

“Remember when we used to climb this thing?” I asked. Maddie shrugged again. “Wanna give it a try?”

“You can’t get your big ass up there,” she replied, which couldn’t have been any further from the truth. I wasn’t anywhere close to overweight, and perhaps a bit thinner than most.

I puffed up my cheeks like a squirrel holding a week’s supply of nuts. “You calling me fat?”

“If the boot fits,” she said with a grin, quoting Jessie from our favorite Disney movie.

“It wouldn’t fit if I was chubby.”

“Whatever, stickboy.”

She turned her attention back to Luke’s house. I focused on the lower branch and pulled myself up without any troubles. In seconds, I was halfway up the tree, perched on a branch.

Joe and I had always talked about trying out for a ninja warrior contest, but my desire usually derailed after about twenty minutes of training. That, and a lack of anything more than a tree to climb, wasn’t going to get me past the first obstacle on the course.

I sat on a branch and wrapped my arms around the trunk. My head rested against the tree, and I listened to the breeze rustle through the leaves. I kept waiting for the telltale squeaking of the garage door opening, but Austin was taking forever. More likely, Mom was over explaining whatever plan she had in mind. She’d tell her favorite son everything.

Maddie walked over to the base of the tree and leaned against it.

“I talked to Katelyn today,” I said, surprising myself. I hadn’t planned on sharing that, but boredom won out. Maybe I needed to brag a little too. “Even went over to her house for a while.”

“Katelyn who?”

“Jennings.”

“Who’s that?”

“The new girl from this year. She’s gonna be a junior like me, from Nashville. Tall, like almost my height.” Maddie shook her head, so I continued. “The hot brunette with the biggest-”

“Hold it right there.” Maddie interrupted me. “I don’t need to know any more, perv.”

“Who’s the perv? I was gonna say biggest brown eyes.”

“Yeah, right.” She pushed off the tree and took a couple tentative steps toward the street. The black car was pointed right at us. Even the front window was tinted so darkly I couldn’t see anyone inside. Maybe it was empty.

The squeal of rollers in desperate need of oiling cut through the afternoon like a siren. Dad should’ve worked on the garage door months ago, but he’d been too busy spending all his newfound free time either reading the paper until he memorized the financial pages—or writing articles for journals and websites that seemed to end up getting the Feds sent over to our house on a regular basis.

I’d learned a whole lot of new words over the last year, such as dissident, subversive, and seditious. I never would’ve thought that about Dad. He was too mild-mannered. The anti-hero, or rather the one who hid in business clothes all day but never revealed his cape. Not even to us.

The hero’s Honda growled to the life in the garage more like a muted cat than a lion. Mom’s yellow Jeep sat next to it, pointed nose out so the guys down the street wouldn’t notice the rack of boxes stacked on the back.

The minivan backed out slowly at first. I dropped to the lowest limb of the maple to see if Austin really was driving. With a flat-billed skater-boy ball cap pulled down low, he backed into the street and swung the van around, narrowly missing the Johnston’s festering trash can. It’d been sitting at the curb for three days without being dumped. At least the recycling bins didn’t reek when they’d sat around too long.

The Johnston’s can was piled high with the lid propped open, and the flies circled. Thankfully, we were upwind. It was one of the few times I appreciated Mom’s devotion to composting. We barely had one trash bag a week for a family of five.

All the city services were running late. We were lucky to still have running water, Mom had said, though she didn’t trust the quality. When we weren’t living off the rain barrel, we filtered the City water before cooking, drinking, or even brushing our teeth.

Besides trash sitting out across town, the streets were as crumbling as the broken sidewalks I’d walked on with Katelyn earlier. Before Austin headed up the street, I wondered if he couldn’t lose the Suburban just by dodging potholes that were more like craters.

Austin stepped on the gas, squealing tires louder than the garage door rollers. The Honda showed more power than I expected. It fishtailed up the street before the tires gripped and thrust it forward like a tan-colored minivan rocket.

The black Suburban didn’t move as Austin flew past.

CHAPTER 6

I stared up the road as forlornly as Maddie. Mom and Dad were probably staring through the slats in the window blinds wondering exactly the same thing as me. Definitely not the same as Maddie.

I lowered myself to the ground to slowly head back to the house. Then I heard the crunching of loose pebbles on the pavement. I froze, leaning against the tree with my body toward the house, looking over my shoulder at the street. The black vehicle moved toward me.

Maddie stepped back from the curb as the Suburban raced toward our driveway. Right when I thought it would jump the curb and plant itself in our yard, the driver jerked the wheel hard to the left.

The windows were blacker than a cast iron skillet. I couldn’t even make out the outline of a driver as the vehicle whipped around and headed up the cul-de-sac in pursuit of Austin. The motor growled with power not normal for a vehicle that size. It was jet engine loud.

The grumble of the motor merged with burning rubber, staying with me long after the Suburban disappeared from sight. Mom threw the front door open and had to yell to be heard.

“Get in the Jeep!”

“What?” Maddie said. I gave her a brotherly shove in the back before jogging to the garage to find Dad opening the driver’s door.

“Get in back, guys,” he said.

I was too busy processing everything else. “What about Austin?”

“He’ll lose the tail and be back here in a minute,” Mom replied casually. “You ever see that boy drive?”

“Like a maniac.” He drove me to school for a while, and I hated every minute of it. How he’d managed to make it a year without an accident, or a speeding ticket, was nothing short of miraculous—especially with the increasing number of policemen on the streets. It was to the point that they were practically on every corner around downtown, all with snarls underneath their helmets and body armor.

I heard tires squealing from several blocks away. I stuck my head out the garage door. There was nothing flat about our subdivision, which helped me catch a glimpse of the Suburban between two houses. It was just up the hillside, moving through the neighborhood faster than the late for work dads and show off teens. The old man on the corner down from Joe’s house was probably shaking a cane at the Feds and yelling at them to slow down.

The Suburban rounded a corner, heading in the direction of Katelyn’s house. A pang of regret hit me as I returned to the Jeep to attempt to cram myself into the backseat next to my sister. I so strongly wished I was getting ready to snuggle up with Katelyn on her comfy couch instead.

“Climb on in, kids,” Mom said.

“Where?” Maddie pointed to a small back seat stuffed with bags and water jugs. Somehow the three of us were supposed to fit in there.

I opened the door behind the driver’s seat. An avalanche of uncomfortable footwear spilled onto the garage floor.

“Sorry about that,” Mom said. “Just jam those under the seat if you can.”

“More like sit on them,” I muttered.

“What’s that, hon?”

“Just saying they might not fit in here. Kinda like me.”

Maddie sighed as she opened the door across from me. “Mom, you know we’re not two anymore, right?”

“Ha, imagine if we still had to use those bulky car seats, Harold.” Mom got that faraway look in her eyes, while I squirmed to shove a foot between water jugs.

“Not funny, Mom.” Maddie grunted as she shoved a duffel bag off her seat onto my side.

“Watch it.” I didn’t really mean it though. I was well enough cocooned that she couldn’t do more than push it to the middle, which was where I guessed Austin was supposed to sit. I should’ve tried to make him room on the outside, but I couldn’t budge.

The Jeep was the biggest of its type, but my knees were still crammed against the back of Dad’s seat. My chin rested on the duffel bag, while my feet were surrounded by a pile of boots. The water bottles that wouldn’t fit in the crates were arranged in the small cargo area in the back into an unsteady wall, pressing against my head every time I leaned back. If we hit a bump, they’d probably spill onto me like falling bricks.

Somehow, from underneath a pair of backpacks, Mom turned around to make sure we were settled in. She couldn’t see my sister, who was packed in directly behind her.

“Maddie, could you scootch over?” she asked.

That drew a quick response. “No.”

“You need to make room for Austin.”

“How?”

“It’s either that or he’s gotta climb over you,” Dad said, ever the reasonable one. “You want his butt in your face?”

“Eww, no.”

“Then you might want to slide over.” Dad turned the key to start the engine. It growled to life while Maddie growled under her breath. She huffed and jerked and threw herself around, looking like a tantrum in a straitjacket. She was stronger than she seemed, and could do just about anything when she set her mind to the task. It was a strong-willed mind.

Maddie glared at Mom, who continued watching her. “Don’t even tell me to put on my seatbelt.”

“I suppose we can leave those off this time.” She pointed to all the padding around us. “Besides safer than air bags, huh?”

“Doubtful,” Maddie muttered.

“Yeah,” I said, “the wheels will probably snap off under all this weight.”

Dad grinned in the rear view mirror. He surely couldn’t see any more than me and a pile of junk. “We will be riding a little lower, for sure.”

“He’s calling you fat,” I whispered to Maddie. She wasn’t any thicker than I was, but it was always fun to mess with her.

She stuck out her tongue and tried to extricate an arm from a pile of luggage, probably to punch me.

“Nice love tap.” I laughed at her when she’d finally wiggled an arm loose. I counted myself lucky she didn’t have enough room to wind up and deliver more than a gentle shove. I couldn’t have defended myself if she’d gotten a free shot. “That what you wanna do with Lukey?”

“More like you and Katelyn.”

“Who’s that?” Mom asked.

“The, uhm, new girl in my class, the one-”

“Zach’s obsessed with her big ole boobs,” Maddie interrupted. She shot me a devious, but playful, look.

Mom shot upright, inadvertently throwing the backpack up onto the dashboard. “What?”

“I did not say that!” I glared at my sister, who leaned away but kept the grin plastered all over her face thicker than her makeup.

“You like her.”

“Maybe.”

“You went to her house today.” I could’ve punched her, or myself, for mentioning any of that earlier.

“What?” Mom looked at Dad. “Harold, did you know any of this?”

“I thought he went to Joe’s.”

They launched into their own conversation while I stared out my window at the inside of the garage. There was too much junk piled around me to see out the front without a huge effort.

“Sorry, Zach. I was just kidding.”

“It’s okay.” I tried to shrug without knocking something over. “At least it gives them something to talk about.”

Maddie nodded. “Does this suck or what?”

“Just wait ‘til Austin gets back.”

The idea of driving more than two minutes in those cramped conditions filled me with dread. It made no sense why we weren’t taking the van. The park had plenty of paved roads, and we would’ve certainly had a lot more room in the Honda.

Before I could ask, Maddie whined, “Mom, this is ridiculous. We’re gonna suffocate back here.”

“Or die from the fumes,” I added. “Why’d you start the car already?”

My parents ignored our complaints, which wasn’t uncommon. Mom reached into her backpack and fished out a tablet computer. She turned to Dad and said, “Good thing they didn’t find this one.”

“Yeah, you were right about the hiding place. They missed my rifle too, but I didn’t see your pistol.”

As I watched bewildered, she patted her backpack. “Got it already, locked and loaded.”

“What the heck?” I whispered to Maddie, but she’d zoned out. Apparently the shovels and the rakes hanging on the garage wall were more interesting than our parents’ bizarre conversation.

“Just hurry up on that thing,” Dad told Mom, nodding his head at the tablet.

“I know. Just need to make sure the others got my message about bugging out. We won’t have a connection later…and that’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want anyone tracing us.” She looked up from the screen at Dad. “You brought the two-ways?”

“Of course.”

“Good. They’ll be safe.”

As I shook my head wondering why this seemed nothing like an actual vacation, Maddie asked, “Can I stay home?”

“That’s not an option, young lady,” Dad replied.

“But I’m old enough to stay alone.”

“Maybe,” he answered, not sounding all that convinced. I’d rarely stayed home alone, but that was mostly because Dad was always there. Not that I really saw him around. He was usually holed up in the computer room banging away on the keyboard sounding like someone was teaching a monkey to type.

“It’s not about that.” Mom lowered her voice to plead with her. “Please, sweetie. We need to go.”

“Why?” I asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“Because we need to,” Dad added.

“Mom just said-”

“Zach, please.” Mom whipped around but softened her tone when she looked at my face. “Because it’s not safe, and that’s all I’m gonna say.”

CHAPTER 7

Squealing tires put an end to any further discussion. Dad sat up even straighter than normal, his arms splayed out to the sides to grip the edge of the steering wheel like he was driving a tank.

“He’s back, Harold. Pull out.”

I expected Dad to say, “Aye, Captain,” but I was much more of a smart-aleck than him. He put the Jeep in gear and eased us out into the driveway.

A tan blur zipped past me, followed by the screeching of brakes. In seconds, the door on Maddie’s side was thrown open, and my older brother launched himself into the Jeep. She groaned as he landed on her.

“Go!” he yelled, with feet dangling out the door.

Dad stepped on the gas, while Mom reached up to press the garage door button on the visor over his head. Austin held the backpack on Maddie’s lap for support, and I snaked a hand out to grab his wrist until he could somehow pull himself all the way inside.

“I lost ‘em…past the creek bridge.” Austin gasped for air between phrases. He brushed matted hair from his forehead. “I turned onto Old Mill…before the roadblock…and cut through the back way.”

“Roadblocks?” I said.

“We’d better use bug out Plan B,” Mom told Dad, ignoring my question.

“Yeah, we’re definitely going the other way,” he replied. “Great work, son.”

If I wasn’t freaking out about the possibility of several black cars trailing us, I might’ve been a little offended. Dad never told me I did a great job on anything. Maybe I hadn’t.

“They’ll be sending another unit to check on the house…soon,” Mom said. “Don’t slow down, Harold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The Jeep leaned sharply to the side as Dad made a left onto the main road leading from our house—away from Katelyn’s. There wasn’t much time to think about that couch again when it felt like we might veer off the road any second.

As the Jeep straightened back out and headed down the street, Austin squirmed, trying to wedge himself into a seat that would’ve been too small without all the gear.

“Suck in your gut, sis,” Austin said.

“You too? Shut up!”

“No, seriously. I can’t close the door.” He grunted as if to prove the point.

I listened for it to latch, but it was several more groans and snorts before I heard the telltale click.

“Cozy little clown car, huh?” he said, still with the lopsided grin.

“Hardly.” Maddie stared straight ahead. At least she could see where we were going. The sunlight dried up to a trickle like a creek in the summertime, leaving me with a view of nothing more than a dark green blur flying past my window. Trees crowded the edge of the road, and the lanes weren’t very wide to begin with.

Our house was outside the dense, developed part of Knoxville, tucked into the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. The road followed the terrain, mostly weaving along the cold, rocky streams. But it wasn’t long before I felt the Jeep begin to climb. Dad eased off the gas sporadically as we cut back and forth, following a ridge up the side of a mountain to the east of town.

“So far, so good.” Mom took her eyes off the road to pull out a map. She struggled to find room to unfold it.

“Don’t worry.” Dad leaned into a turn. “I got it.”

My ears popped as we started up a steeper section, and something shifted in the back. At least we were headed uphill, so the water jugs weren’t falling all over me.

“Which way are you going now?” Mom asked, still trying to check out the map. It was folded in half, not about to go back the way it had been before.

The map flew out of her hands when we hit a bump. Despite being weighted down, I rose out of my seat to bang my head against the steel frame of the Jeep.

While I was busy checking my scalp for blood, Mom yelled, “Harold!”

“Sorry, everyone. Forgot how bad the road is.”

“Pothole, Pops?” Austin asked.

“More like off-roading,” Maddie chimed in. “Is that even a street?”

“Sure, kiddo.” Dad slowed before he punished the Jeep again on another bump. “But that’s why we left the Honda at home.”

Mom retrieved the map, and modified her earlier question. “You do know where you’re going?”

I wondered that myself. The forest had really closed in on us. I couldn’t even see pavement next to me, making me think we were on more of a driveway. The tires rumbled, and I tilted my head enough to get a look in the rear view mirror. A cloud of white dust followed behind us in the tunnel-like opening between the trees.

“Sure…call it Plan C. Just taking a little gravel to avoid the roadblock at Miller’s corner.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know one’s there?”

“I’ve been getting out some too, you know…checking things out.”

I wondered when but didn’t say anything. It must’ve been while I was off at school.

I couldn’t help but think about my friends. The first was Joe, who was probably at home oblivious, watching old DVD’s or gaming. But I especially thought of Katelyn. Though I didn’t know what exactly my family was prepared for, worry for her took over my thoughts. Odd as it seemed, I figured we had to be better prepped than her family for whatever was in store for us.

Mom tilted her head even farther and squinted through her eyelashes like she was looking at the sun. Her voice became as sweet as syrupy iced tea.

“Aww, Harold. You really did check out all my bug out routes. How nice.”

“Puke.” Maddie fished a finger from beneath a duffel bag, but had to lean over to make a gagging motion.

She nearly made herself vomit when the Jeep hit a hole and bounced again.

There was a huge thump in the back that sounded like the wheels really did break off. We kept rolling as Maddie said, “That wasn’t the tubs, was it?”

I imagined them cracked open, scattering our stuff all over the dusty road. I craned my neck as far as I could get, but couldn’t see over the water jug mountain behind me. Austin and Mom didn’t have any more success.

“You better pull over, darling,” Mom said.

Dad was scrunched down in his seat, futilely trying to look out the rear view mirror.

“I had that stuff bound tight. It’s not going anywhere.”

We hit another bump, and Mom more firmly said, “Harold, please. Don’t ruin the mission being stubborn.”

“Fine.”

If he pulled off to the side, I didn’t notice. It seemed like we just stopped in the middle of the road. I reached for the door handle, but couldn’t get to it without moving another heavy bag, or two, first.

The cloud of white dust following the Jeep kept on coming, enveloping us in a type of fog like you’d see on the mountain sides in the mornings, or just after a rainstorm. It hadn’t rained in an unusually long time, hence the dust.

“Let me out,” Maddie complained.

“Hang on, I’m trying.”

Austin pulled the lock up on his door and manually popped it open. He practically tumbled into a bush, as the force of a loosened load propelled him out of the vehicle. It was as if we’d been riding pressurized like a submarine.

“Little help, Pops,” I said as Dad walked past, headed to the back. Even though I tapped my forehead on the window, he kept going. The determined look on his face rivaled any look I’d ever seen on him; more so than simply poring over the numbers of some client’s financial statement.

Maddie tried to slide out Austin’s side and tipped over, burying her face in his vacated seat. Rather than try to get up, she stayed there and whimpered like a puppy.

I sat for a moment longer without moving, wondering why all the mission, stakeout, bug out talk wasn’t as shocking as it should’ve been. The reason was obvious. I’d be trained for years to expect the overly excitable silliness. A couple years before, we’d left town at a moment’s notice because Mom heard the remnants of a tropical storm were coming our way. It rained a lot and power was out for a week, but it was far from the end of the world.

I realized that was the curse of being a prepper’s son. With endless planning and false alarms, nothing could shock me anymore. Or so I thought.

Mostly, at that point, the trip seemed like another ridiculous vacation. Or maybe a bug out trial run like the phony fire alarms at school where Joe would try to get me to goof off with him. Sometimes I wondered if he’d been the one who’d pulled the alarm.

If this was only a drill, Mom and Dad seemed a whole lot more on edge than the teachers ever did.

Once I finally brought myself back to reality, the dust fog had cleared to leave a dusky orange glow. There couldn’t have been much daylight left, but at least Dad would have plenty of time to repack the load—so long as it wasn’t spread halfway down the mountain. Fortunately, Austin was out of the Jeep to help him. I’d make it out eventually if I tried harder.

I finally managed to get my hand close enough to the side to brush my fingers over the window controls. I gave up on opening the door for the moment, settling for some fresh air. The button mashed down, but nothing happened.

“Seriously, child locks.”

Mom was still planted in the front seat under a load of backpacks.

“Not now, hon.” She kept staring out Dad’s open door. “Your father’s taking a long time.” Her fingers drummed on the top pack. “Harold, is everything alright?”

“Fine, darling.”

“Then what’s-”

Mom’s words were cut short by a deep, gigantic boom. The blast rumbled, echoing through the valley, shaking the Jeep.

It wasn’t close, but still reminded me of an earthshaking thunderclap. Maddie covered her ears and screamed, and she wasn’t one to be frightened of storms.

Dad ran back to his seat and yanked the door closed. “That’s not thunder!”

CHAPTER 8

Austin dove back into the car like a battering ram. Luckily for Maddie, she’d already sat up at the sound of the explosion. My brother’s eyes were even darker and wilder than normal. I hadn’t seen him move that fast ever, except when he was driving, of course.

Dad mashed his foot on the gas before Austin had the door closed. The tires slung gravel into the wheel wells. If I could’ve gripped something other than luggage, I’d have held on for dear life. Maybe I did anyway.

“The load’s fine, but we’d better get where we’re going.”

I had to strain to hear Mom over the sound of the tires skidding on gravel. “Is that what I think it was?”

Dad’s shoulders hunched forward. I leaned in as far as I could, but only heard him say, “Yeah.”

“Close?”

“Not really,” He paused to look behind us. “But I really don’t like this dust cloud.”

“Better that than headlights.” Mom patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe they’ll mistake it for smoke.”

“They’d better.”

I decided that was the end of me not getting any answers, even though it turned out I didn’t necessarily want to know.

“What are you two talking about?” I asked sharply.

“Your father needs to concentrate on the road,” Mom replied without looking back.

“What is going on? Bombs and smoke and people watching our house. I demand answers.”

Austin inserted himself into the conversation. “Ooh, Mom, Zach’s demanding answers.”

“You care to explain things to me, brother?”

“Uhm, no. Not really.”

If Maddie hadn’t been in the way, I might’ve tried to slug him. Instead, she sided with me in my quest for the truth.

“Seriously, Mom, please tell us what’s going on,” she said, surprising me with the sudden firmness in her normally high-pitched, soft voice.

“I said I would…later.”

I bit my lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and had to force myself to keep from snarling when I said, “That’s not good enough.”

“Fine,” Mom huffed. “We’re not going on an early vacation.”

“No sh-”

The Jeep swerved hard to the side, stealing my breath as the wheels gripped for traction. Branches brushed against the window on my side, and I jerked my head away reflexively. The crash I expected didn’t materialize, and Dad regained control.

On some of these roads, we would’ve been lucky to hit a tree. They were the only thing to keep us from plummeting to the bottom of a wooded canyon.

“Whew,” Dad said. “That was a close one.”

“No sh-”

Mom whipped her head around, and I choked on the words—again.

“It’s plain and simple, kids,” she said. “Things have gotten to the point that it’s not safe around home anymore. And not just because the Feds are watching us.”

Most people might’ve thought having officers watching your house was a good thing, like some kind of police protection. But I knew it wasn’t reassuring when they were out to get you.

“Meaning what’s not safe?” Maddie asked.

“Everything, genius, “Austin said.

His head was resting against the window—not the smartest move. I couldn’t keep from chuckling when Dad hit another bump, sending him into the same support bar I’d smacked earlier.

“You’re being so vague,” Maddie said. She made a point of ignoring Austin. “Like what, Mom.”

“We just need to beat the roadblock and get up to camp before everything goes to hell. Literally.”

“It’s coming any second.” Dad sighed. “Martial law is supposed to be a response to lawlessness, but it’s only creating more of it because of the way they oppress us.”

Maddie shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean…”

“There’s no freedom, no travel, with soldiers around to enforce a curfew,” Mom explained. “You can’t put people into a cage and expect them not to fight their way out.”

“Or eat their young,” Dad added.

“Nice,” I muttered, realizing in some uncertain way that the government had apparently continued to ratchet down on their citizens’ freedoms until the point that some were willing to fight back. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if my parents were one of those types, or just people who’d rather hide under a rock until the world got straightened out. Even the concept of fighting back seemed like a death wish, though I was quickly understanding the reason why people might try.

I swallowed down a ball of anxiety and snuck a sidelong glimpse at Maddie. For someone who used to stay up until all hours of the night video chatting with her friends, she looked exhausted. I figured her sleep patterns must have changed when we’d lost our phones. She was probably out of practice when it came to staying up late, but it was barely sunset. And there was definitely no shortage of whining.

I could relate.

If I could’ve gotten an arm out, I would’ve wrapped it around her or let her rest on my shoulder. Instead, her head drooped forward. She used the duffel bag like a hard lumpy pillow, burying her face into it.

I expected to hear sobbing, but she was tough at times. Or maybe the road was just too noisy.

Dad slowed to make another hard turn. Mom gave him the questioning look again, but didn’t say anything.

The road we turned onto was even more treacherous than the last. I pictured two wheel ruts with a strip of grass growing up between them, but couldn’t see to confirm that. I’d have asked Maddie, but she had somehow found a way to fall asleep.

The branches closed in, choking it down to a one-way path. There wasn’t even a spot to pull over to let anyone pass. Then the grass turned to rocks.

The Jeep’s frame groaned as it lurched over uneven dips, all the while climbing higher onto the mountainside.

“There used to be some cabins back here,” Dad told Mom. “You know, back when there were actually tourists.”

“To think the city folk actually drove this road to get there,” Mom remarked.

We hit another big bump, and I heard the air escape from Dad’s lungs with a whoosh. It took a moment before he replied, “I reckon they took better care of it back then.”

Mom laughed, and I was surprised how much better it made me feel.

“Are we staying back here…in the cabins?” I asked, butting into their conversation.

“No, hon,” Mom said, turning around this time. “But we’re not too much farther, I think.” She’d given up on the map a mile or two back.

“A couple more turns and across a little ravine,” Dad said. “It’s not far.”

“Doesn’t sound that close,” I replied, knowing how it could take a long time to cover just a mile on the curvy mountain highways. What we were on was hardly a road.

“Nah, it’s close,” Dad said. “I promise.”

“Good, ‘cause I gotta pee,” Austin said. “These bumps are killing me.”

“On the plus side of the ledger, we’re not leaving a cloud of dust.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re driving so slow,” Austin said. He winced with every bump and leaned over to hug the bag on his lap. “I’m seriously about to burst.”

“Oh, gross.” Maddie mumbled into her duffel bag pillow, and failed in trying to scoot over closer to me.

I stared out the side window and got a better look at my surroundings. Dad had us slowed down to a crawl on an especially steep climb. The pace reminded me of the speed Grandpa used to go when we drove around his farm in his old pick-up truck. We’d bounce over the fields looking at his cattle. He’d made his own road on the farm, much like Dad was doing now. Of course, Grandpa’s road was a rolling pasture in the foothills, while this one was little more than a rocky, near vertical path through a forest.

Sometimes it was hard to remember my Dad was raised on a farm, especially when he wore his work clothes every day and talked in banker jargon. One time Mom kidded him about that, and he’d said, “T-bills or pork futures, it’s all the same thing.”

“Not really, is it?” she’d replied.

“Of course not. T-bills are controlled by the Fed and have nothing to do with commodity prices, but I was just making a comparison.”

Mom had scratched her head. “How?”

“Corn prices versus stocks and bonds.” She hadn’t look as confused as I had been, but he’d continued trying to explain. “I’m just saying that farmers watch the reports and read the paper as much as I do. We’re just looking at different sections of the financials.”

Somewhere in there was supposedly the explanation of how he came to love numbers. It’d never made much sense to me, and I had no desire to learn no matter how hard Dad had tried. I wasn’t too bad at math myself, but going to college to study to be an accountant wasn’t high on my list. Mostly, I wondered if there’d even be colleges in two more years. So many State-run universities had seen their whole teaching staffs replaced by professors friendlier to the new regime, while private colleges were closing by the dozens. My parents seemed genuinely concerned about sending me off to school.

I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life, and I hoped to not have to figure that out for a while. At that moment, I was more interested in finding out where we were going, and why. I settled for an answer to the first question.

“Hey, Mom? Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“If it’s not those tourist cabins, where exactly are we going?”

“It’s really close now,” Dad said. He kept his eyes on the road, since the drop-offs seemed to get as steep as canyons the higher we climbed. “I’ve just gotta jump on the highway for a minute. Need to use the bridge to get across the creek.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“There’s a clearing with an old, abandoned church up ahead,” she said. “It’s not gonna be so bad.”

I assumed that it couldn’t be much worse than anywhere we’d camped before. I’d spent a lot of nights in a tent in the Smokies previously, although nothing I’d seen so far looked familiar. Then again, it was nothing but the same trees everywhere around there. The slopes of the mountains were as woody green as the valleys. Rocks poked out on some of the taller, steeper peaks, but mostly they were covered with pines, spruce, and other hardwoods.

We took a hard turn to the right, and Dad brought the Jeep to a gravel-crunching halt. Mom’s hand shot to the dashboard, her eyes suddenly bulging.

Dad turned back to Austin and said, “If you gotta pee, you’d better get out now. We might be here a while.”

CHAPTER 9

“Seriously?” Austin didn’t wait for the answer. He flew out of the Jeep and disappeared behind us.

“What is it?” I asked while my brother was still outside. I knew from past experience it would take him a while. The boy’s bladder could hold water like a camel.

Mom pointed through the windshield. “Flashing lights below us…on the highway.”

“Probably a roadblock,” Dad added, tilting his head to the side to apparently get a better look. “That’s the main road from Gatlinburg to Cherokee, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Just our luck, Harold.”

Mom reached for the map. Once she had it unfolded, Dad said, “I’d better see that.”

She slumped in her seat to get a look in the rear view mirror. “We’re gonna need lights if that boy doesn’t hurry up.”

“Not if I can help it.” Dad ran a finger over the map, tracing a route I couldn’t make out from the backseat. “I think this might work.”

“It’s about time,” Mom said when Austin finally returned.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” he replied.

“Now we gotta go,” Dad said. “Hold on tight.”

The road was too narrow to turn around, so he put the Jeep in reverse. My stomach knotted, and I gripped the duffel bag on my lap tightly. My mind flashed images of a car flying off the side of a mountain, crashing to the ground in a burning heap.

When branches slapped against my window, beads of sweat on my brow built to a full blown trickle. Impossibly, Dad used the mirrors to keep us mostly on the road. He made it back to the turnoff to the cabins without throwing a wheel off the road, and spun us around.

Mom was right about needing lights, though. We had maybe a half hour before the pale blue glow of the instrument panel would be all the light we had inside the Jeep. Outside, I could still make out the forest mere inches away from my window, but it was turning to shadows, soon to give me nothing to look at but dark lumps.

“It’s really gonna get dark quick,” Mom said, echoing my thoughts.

I looked to Maddie, expecting to see her quivering. Instead, she was head down on the duffel bag again, somehow finding a way to sleep through Dad’s masterful, though rough, bit of backwards driving.

“I’m starving,” Austin announced. “When’s dinner?”

Food was the last thing on my mind. My stomach was busy eating itself.

“Not any time soon,” Dad answered.

“What about this overlook, Harold?” Mom pointed to the map, holding it close to the clock for extra light. “The kids would probably like to stretch their legs.”

He sighed, almost imperceptibly. “I guess.”

We headed back to a gravel crossroad, and Dad took a right this time. Surprisingly, the road was wider than the one we’d been on. A grassy ditch separated what seemed like two narrow lanes from the forest. It was a little lighter without a tight canopy overhead, but the sun had obviously set.

Every so often, there was a spot to pull over along the side of the road. Some were big enough patches of gravel that two or three cars could park there.

We passed a trailhead on the left, which had an even larger parking area. A faded brown sign tilted to the side. I couldn’t make out any of the words, and the condition of the brush clogging the start of the trail made it seem like no one had hiked it in years.

Right when I thought we were in a remote area of the park, the road abruptly switched over to asphalt. Not smooth, but a huge improvement compared to gravel. Dad kicked up the speed like we’d made it to a superhighway, punishing the shocks on potholes that were starting to blend in with the rest of the dark pavement.

“It should be around the curve,” Mom said.

“We’re not staying long,” Dad replied. “We need to stick to the gravel. It’s a little too, uhm, civilized on the hard road.”

A fresh shiver gripped me; it had nothing to do with the dropping temperatures.

Austin leaned forward. “Then why are we stopping?”

“You were the hungry one,” Mom reminded him.

“Yeah, but…”

“I’d like to see Gatlinburg,” Dad said. “But we’re eating in the car. There’s no time to sit around.”

Maddie lifted her head, and scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Are we getting out?”

“For a second.”

“They’ll have to, Harold. All the food’s wedged into the back.”

The tires hummed on the asphalt as Dad pushed the Jeep as fast as he dared in the twilight. The road curved back and forth, hugging the mountainsides like a coiled serpent. When it cut to the left, Dad let off on the accelerator, and we coasted into a paved lot on the side of the road.

The trees were pushed back from the road, giving a view over the valley. The mountains at the far end were a deep, hazy gray, losing all of their detail.

Austin flopped out of the car before everyone else. He moaned and groaned while Maddie and I sat trapped in the back waiting to be let out.

“Little help, Pops,” I called before Dad had the chance walk away.

He stuck his head back in the Jeep and peeked behind the seat at us. “Why?”

“I can’t reach the door handle.”

“Oh, sorry.”

When he pulled the handle, the door burst open, shoving him a couple steps back. He swayed, and dropped to a knee. While holding onto the door to regain his balance, I threw the first of several duffel bags onto the parking lot.

“Little crowded back there, huh?”

“You don’t say.”

My knees didn’t want to unfold. I eventually got a leg out, despite Maddie’s less than encouraging motivational words. “Move it, Zach,” she whined and threw in other, not so complimentary names.

“I’m trying, sis.”

“Try harder. I’m freakin’ dying here.”

“Hurry up, slowpokes,” Mom said. “We need to keep it quick, remember.”

My legs wobbled when I tried to stand, and I had to lean on the door like Dad. Maddie squeezed herself over to the opening, and once the jelly feeling left, I was able to give her a yank to pull her out.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I am not going back in there!”

“It’s not like you have a choice,” Austin said. “So quit the effing whining.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mom grabbed Austin by the arm and jerked him toward the rear of the Jeep. “I’m not having that.”

“Having what, a good time? ‘Cause this is already so awesome.”

“Your smart mouth, mister.” She pointed at Dad, who was trying to take the world’s most complicated strap system off the tubs. “Go give him a hand. Please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He scuffed his feet on the pavement, mumbling something to himself.

I went to help out before I was told. As soon as I got a good look at the complex lattice work of rope and tie-downs Dad had used, I knew there was no way we would’ve lost the load on a bump. We could’ve rolled down the hill and it still would’ve stuck tight.

“Helluva knot you’ve got there, Pops,” Austin said.

Dad scratched his head like he didn’t even know where to start untying his own creation.

“You’re quite the Boy Scout,” I said. “Is that a combination half-hitch and sheet bend?”

“Like you’d know,” Austin said.

I ignored the jab. He was right. Austin got to join for a couple years, but Mom had decided she could do a better job of teaching her kids wilderness survival.

“I don’t think we’re eating now, boys,” Dad said. “This is gonna take too long.”

“Seriously?” Austin rubbed his stomach and groaned. I rubbed my own stomach for an entirely different reason.

Maddie came shuffling over with her shoulders hunched. Mom had an arm wrapped around her, talking softly so we couldn’t hear.

“You’ll have to settle for something to drink, Austin,” Dad said. “Babe, you got any water in the Jeep?”

“About a thousand gallons,” I answered for Mom, and couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke.

Dad frowned. “I meant a cooler. Is everyone here a comedian?”

“Some more than others,” I muttered under my breath.

“The cooler’s behind the back row,” Maddie said softly.

Mom shrugged. “Probably not the best place to put that, but you’re the one who did the packing, Harold.”

“Thanks for mentioning that.” Dad waved a hand dismissively at our cargo and walked off toward the overlook. “It’ll have to wait.”

I stepped over a duffel bag to follow him to the stone wall. A narrow valley spread out below us, revealing a once bustling tourist town.

I expected to see more lights at dusk, but the streetlights weren’t turned on. Or maybe the City couldn’t afford to keep them lit.

A steel-framed observation tower poked into the sky at the far end of the valley, but it didn’t come close to challenging the height of the surrounding mountains. Ordinarily, the platform would’ve been lined with tourists, but I noticed even the streets seemed empty. Rather than the gridlock of traffic along the narrow, winding main street through the town, the headlights were few and far between.

“I’ve never seen it this quiet before,” I whispered.

Mom was standing behind me. “To think we rarely used to drive through Gatlinburg. It was always so crowded…especially in the summer.”

“It’s almost time for curfew,” Dad remarked. “People are rushing to their houses. Everyone knows what happens if you get caught out after dark.”

I watched a car turn off from the main street to disappear behind some buildings. We were too far away to hear the squeal of the tires, but it surely happened judging by the speed.

There wasn’t much to Gatlinburg off the strip, which was mostly shuttered gift shops and other touristy stuff, so maybe the lack of traffic made some sense. There weren’t a lot of houses in the narrow valley.

According to Dad, hardly anyone could afford big vacations anymore, or little ones. Maybe long distance travel wasn’t even allowed with the new travel permits. But it still seemed like there should’ve been more people out.

“It’s weird seeing all the empty hotels,” Maddie said. “There’re so many, but they’re all dark.”

“This is the new reality, kids. If good people don’t rise up and do something about all this, you’d better get used to it.” Dad wheeled around to head back to the car. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Exactly what you expected?” Mom asked him.

“Yeah. We made the right-”

A burst of brilliant light shot from deep within the valley, like lightning reaching for the sky. I staggered backwards, clutching at my eyes.

CHAPTER 10

A punch to the chest sent me to the ground; a sudden breeze rushed at us. The boom contained within the valley was devastating, as though the sound bounced off the distant mountain to punish us one more time.

I staggered back to my feet. Dad was leaning against the Jeep, pulling Mom up with him. Austin was already at the edge, clamping his hand over a screaming Maddie’s mouth.

“Shut up, Maddie!” he yelled, over and over until I got to her.

“Leave her alone!” I fired back and pulled her away from him. Mom was right behind me to console her while she sobbed. I was happy to offer up the shoulder, but Mom was better with the words.

“What the hell just happened?” Austin said. He stared over the stone wall at a cloud of smoke rising in the air.

“I don’t know,” Dad replied. “It’s too soon.” He scratched his thinning hair and shot a look at Mom. “We’d better get outta here.”

“Get to the Jeep,” she commanded, but my boots were rooted to the parking lot.

The sound of gunshots from the valley floor should’ve made me run, but I found myself staying at the wall to look.

Flashing lights, blues and reds, cut through the air like the inside of a smoky dance club. It smelled about as bad. My heart pounded in time with a fast, hip-hop beat of gunfire.

“C’mon,” Dad said, but I was still transfixed, or more like paralyzed.

The valley was draped in the mountain fog the Smokies were famous for, but this cloud brought a burning, sulfur odor with it. Though it wasn’t unbearable, I pinched my nose shut anyway. It was difficult to suck enough air without choking.

I tried to find the tip of the observation tower through the haze, but couldn’t see more than the strobe lit wisps.

“Surely that’s not the start…” Mom caught me looking at her. She shook her head and quickly added, “More rioting, Harold?”

My thoughts instantly went back to Dad’s newspaper.

“Probably.” Dad tugged at her arm. “We really should go.”

“This’ll make your paper tomorrow,” she said.

“As if we’ll see one,” I muttered as I struggled to take in the scene below us, physically and mentally.

“I’d rather not be one of the casualties.” Dad hurried to the Jeep and held the door open for Maddie to slide in. She was the definition of shell-shocked. Her body moved numbly; her eyes were glassed over. Mine burned from the acrid air. Tears built in the corners, which I’m sure were totally due to the smoke.

Austin was agitatedly hopping from one foot to another. There was no restraining him when he was in the middle of one of his jumpy fits. Mom wouldn’t medicate him, at least not with anything a doctor might prescribe. In contrast to Maddie, his eyes were wild.

Mom had to practically shove him into the Jeep to keep him caged. I felt the vehicle rock as I stepped in and mashed myself next to my sister.

Dad threw a duffel bag on top of me, which I passed off to Maddie. After he tossed in another one for my lap, he hurried to the driver’s seat.

“So this is the new reality?” I asked once we were settled in.

“I just, I just, uhm…I didn’t think it would be this soon,” Dad said cryptically. “My God. What’s this country come to?”

“It’s like I’ve been saying, Harold. Folks are desperate. What else would you expect them to do?”

“Not them, the Feds. How could they?” He muttered more gibberish and ran his hands through what remained of his salt-and-peppered dark hair. I wished he’d put them back on the wheel as we sped out of the parking lot. “I mean, I’m not okay with the bombs, you know. But…the shootings…our own people.”

“It’s a new civil war,” Mom said. My stomach clenched again. If we took many more curves, I was definitely going to need the window rolled down, but it wasn’t entirely from his driving.

“Sorta. Not exactly brother versus brother.”

“More like the weak versus the strong,” she said so softly I could barely hear her over the sound of the tires flying along the pavement.

“Brother versus Big Brother.” He turned to Mom. “I hope you’re prepared.”

“For once you’ll be happy to know I am. Ready as we’ll ever be.”

I don’t know why, but I blurted out, “For how long?”

“There ain’t no goin’ back,” Austin said. He brushed sweaty black hair off his forehead, while Maddie buried her face in her hands to cry.

“That’s not true, hon,” Mom said. She spun around to check on Maddie. “It’ll calm down. We’ll get back.”

I didn’t pay much attention to the road other than to notice Dad was driving way too fast for the time of night. The sun had set back around nine o’clock, meaning we were already pushing bedtime for my parents. All the while, my mind was busy trying to process things that never should’ve happened, and wondering if our non-vacation would change from weeks to months, or more.

If this kind of thing could happen in little Gatlinburg, I wondered what was going on in Knoxville. Maybe even back home in our neighborhood. My buddies could get caught up in something. Especially Joe, who was always finding a new way to get into trouble.

My thoughts instantly turned to Katelyn. Though it was looking hopeless for my family, at least we had a head start to nowhere. I couldn’t bear to think of her trapped in our neighborhood as riots flared and homes burned.

Before I knew it, Dad was slowing at the bottom of a big hill. He kept the headlights off and crept toward the intersection with a wider road.

“Clear your way?” he asked.

“No roadblocks,” Mom replied.

“Good. About time we caught a break.”

“Gun it!” Austin shouted from the back seat. His leg twitching was getting totally out of control. I thought he might jump out and run if Dad didn’t start moving.

I strained to see anything through the side window, but the world had lost definition. Obviously, we were still deep in the woods. Other than a few clearings, the whole National Park was nothing but forest for thousands of acres. I could tell there was a little ribbon of a gap curving away from us, which was the road we needed to cross.

Dad pushed down on the accelerator, but not enough to make the tires complain. It probably wasn’t fast enough for Austin. If his future career in wildlife management or something else outdoorsy didn’t work out, he’d have made a great racecar driver. If there would be such a thing as actual jobs in the future. A bleak future.

The load in the back shifted as we lurched forward. Nothing fell on me at first, but Dad soon made a sharp turn to the left to take the main road. I leaned to my right, bumping against Maddie. Several of the water jugs gave way, tumbling away from me onto Maddie and Austin. We never should’ve messed with them at the overlook. They’d gone miles of bumpy road without bothering us.

Maddie freaked out like a spider had crawled on her. “Get them off me!” She couldn’t move her arms much, but her body twisted side to side, her feet pounding away like she was trying to kick them.

“Chill, dude,” Austin said, fighting back against the jugs. “You’re the one that wanted the drink.”

“That was you,” she shrieked.

Dad slowed, but Mom wasn’t about to have that. “Relax, children. Deal with it and we’ll be there in a second.” She spun back to the front. “Now move it, Harold.”

Maddie’s face suddenly scrunched up, and she gasped. “Awww, man, now they’re leaking.” She shot upright, shoulders thrown back. “Oh my God, it’s so cold!”

“Sit still, sis.” I tried to help her out without getting soaked myself.

A jug had lodged itself behind her back during all her squirming. I pulled out the mangled bottle eventually, drizzling water all over the bags we were holding—and our pant legs.

She was right. The water was surprisingly cold. It went straight through my jeans and ran with a trickle to my shoes. I managed to shove the crumpled bottle to the floor of the Jeep and sat back with a sigh.

“Jeez, finally.” I said, releasing a huge breath. “That sucked.”

“I’m soaked,” Maddie said.

Austin couldn’t just drop it. “I don’t know how.”

“The cap came off, and the top was all smashed in.” I looked over at him with my sternest ‘leave her alone’ look, not that I expected it to work.

“It’s just water. You’ll dry out.”

“That’s right,” Mom added encouragingly. “We’ve got plenty of it.”

“True that,” I mumbled, still working to move fallen bottles from our crowded seat to the equally crowded floor.

With that mini-crisis solved, I sat back to look out the window. A knee-high wall of stone pinched the road. Dad slowed as we passed over the bridge and stepped on the gas once we were clear of the little choke point. The water bottle waterfall wasn’t exactly a nice distraction, but it had helped pass the time while we were dangerously exposed on the main road.

“Almost there,” he said to Mom. “Help me out.”

“I’m looking.”

I assumed he meant to find the turn off to wherever we were headed. As we rounded a curve to the right, I figured as long as we didn’t see headlights coming, we’d be all right. So, of course, we did.

CHAPTER 11

“Harold!” Mom screamed louder than I’d ever heard her before.

Yellow beams punched through the darkness, lighting up the trees outside my window. Dad jerked the wheel and we flew off the road. The nose of the Jeep dipped, sending another avalanche of water jugs onto us.

A shriek escaped from Maddie as we slammed into a hole. I held my breath, and the Jeep bucked like a mechanical bull. My head smacked the side wall, adding a few more stars to the thousands plastered in the sky.

I was certain the front axle should’ve ripped off the Jeep, but it kept plowing ahead like a plane crash landing in a forest. I gripped my head, readying to plummet.

We didn’t tumble down a hill. The Jeep climbed instead, escaping from the headlights before the other vehicle fully rounded the curve.

It was dead quiet inside the Jeep, other than Dad grunting as he fought the wheel. Outside, branches beat against our windows as the rugged vehicle bounced up the hill. It was going as fast as a racehorse when a pack mule would’ve been more appropriate.

Eventually, I realized we were actually on a driveway. At first, I’d been too busy wondering about the headlights bearing down on us. Had they seen us?

As the oncoming vehicle rounded the curve in the main road, I imagined them looking for us like the searchlights at a prison. We would’ve been caught dead to rights in the wide open, but the mountain path was dark, narrow, and steep. It was ideal for hiding.

“Slow down,” Mom said through gritted teeth, while she gripped the dashboard and bounced in her seat.

“Sorry about that bump,” Dad said, apologizing for something that seemed like minutes ago. “I couldn’t hit the brakes or they’d see us light up.”

“I thought you ran off the road,” Maddie said softly.

I whispered to her, “So did I.”

“Not much of a road, is it?” Mom said, though she already knew the answer. It turned out that she’d been this way a couple times before with Dad scouting the woods and trails around our hideout.

“The worst one yet,” I said.

“That’s what we want,” Mom replied. “We’re gonna be fine now.” But I noticed she kept turning to look behind us as if she expected the other vehicle to follow. Thankfully, nothing but moonlight chased us up the bumpy hill.

If it hadn’t been so steep, I would’ve been ready to get out of the Jeep and walk. When my mind and body were at their breaking points, the road finally leveled out into a little clearing. I sat up but noticed little more than the grassy opening in the woods initially.

Dad swung the Jeep around the edge of the clearing, and a dark structure came into view. It was surprisingly large, almost as big as a barn. A metal roof glimmered in the moonlight.

Tall, narrow windows lined the side of the building. They were more of a kaleidoscope of black, gray, and brown than an allover kind of dark.

“There’s our new home,” Dad said.

Mom shot him a questioning look. “We’re not staying there.”

It was Dad’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“No buildings.” She shook her head. “Seriously, Harold. We talked about this.”

“What are you two talking about?” Maddie asked, but our parents lowered their voices and ignored her.

The Jeep ground to a halt. I imagined it breathing a huge sigh of relief like a winded pony after a long run, but maybe that was just me.

I rearranged the cargo enough that I could open the door without waiting for help. I wasn’t exactly eager to see this new home—or whatever it was. But anything felt better than the small, hard bench seat of our bucking bronco.

Maddie stumbled out and collapsed against the side of the vehicle. She wasn’t going to be much help carrying anything, not that I could blame her. She kept her mouth pinched tight, though she’d open it briefly to suck in huge breaths of cool mountain air. Her face was as sickly white as the moon, and I stepped back in case she was about to throw up.

Austin came around our side, and that got her talking.

He laughed and pointed at the dark stain on her pants that showed up all too well in the moonlight. “You’ve wet yourself.”

“Did not,” she snapped.

He looked at me and chuckled louder. “So did Zach.”

“Dude, you know it was the water.”

“Sure it was. Keep telling yourself that.”

My fingers curled into a ball. “I’ll tell you-”

“Children,” Mom said sharply. “Save your energy for unpacking. Go give your father a hand.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I trudged to the back of the Jeep to find Dad struggling to untie his massive knot. He was muttering under his breath, and it didn’t appear to be just from the knot. Mom had him bothered. But the untangling was going to be a challenge, much like the kind of bird’s nest that fishing line would make, and I was totally useless untying those.

The tower of tubs, nearly as tall as the Jeep, leaned to the side. If the rope came off, the higher ones would topple onto the ground.

“What’s what here?” Austin asked.

“Camping stuff in the green ones. Food in the blues.” Dad grunted as he struggled against the knot. “Might have to cut it.”

“Don’t waste the rope,” Mom said from over my shoulder.

“Easy for you to say,” Dad mumbled as she walked off with a duffel bag slung over each shoulder. With a muffled curse, the rope finally slipped and Dad braced himself to give it a yank. It unwound slowly, and the top tub wavered on the precipice. “About time. Start taking ‘em down.”

I pulled a green tub off the top of the stack and sat it beside me before grabbing another. They were fairly light, but too bulky to carry more than two at a time.

I looked up to find Mom over by the door to the old church.

“Are we going inside?” I asked Dad.

“You better ask her.” He panted as he leaned over with hands on his knees.

I trudged over to the building and watched with curiosity as Mom disappeared inside. After hesitating at the bottom of the steps, I took a deep breath and climbed into the darkness. The ancient boards creaked, sounding like they would collapse with every step. If the tubs were heavier, I would’ve carried them one at a time.

“Mom? I thought we were camping?”

“So did I.” Her voice carried to me like an echo. “We will…eventually.”

“Huh?”

“Go ahead and get stretched out for the night. It’s late.”

Ordinarily, I would’ve disagreed. It was nothing new for me to stay up past midnight, but the events of the day were weighing heavily on me. I was definitely ready to lie down, but not quite ready to sleep.

Mom’s boots clunked over the floor. I didn’t know how she could see where she was walking. She was beside me before I could make out her silhouette. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Me, too. I need to help Dad unload.” My eagerness to help had almost nothing to do with the dank, dark aura of the abandoned church, and I hadn’t even spotted the little graveyard yet.

 Austin was coming up the steps with loaded arms as we headed out. We had to step back inside to let him go first. Maddie trailed behind him holding a backpack in her hands.

“Wow, this place is cool,” he said, which was probably the first time he’d ever thought that about a church. His eyes must’ve adjusted quicker than mine, though I was finally able to make out the shapes of wooden benches arranged in two rows with an aisle leading up to the front.

Maddie mumbled an inaudible reply. She stretched her arms way out in front of herself, and shuffled her feet like a zombie. Even so, she stubbed a foot on the closest pew and nearly tumbled over the back of the seat into it.

“That was graceful,” Austin teased, knowing that she took her dance classes very seriously.

She replied with something unkind. Mom shushed her, though he obviously deserved it.

“You okay?” Mom asked.

Maddie nodded and offered a weak, “Uh huh.”

“Just drop the stuff by the door and go get more.” Mom hurried outside, and I followed behind her.

“Can we turn a light on?” Maddie’s voice trailed behind us.

“No, sweetie,” Mom replied over her shoulder. “We better not.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t argue with your mother,” Dad said. He passed us on his way to the church carrying a pair of stacked tubs.

We made five more trips back and forth to the Jeep before it was finally unloaded, except for all the water bottles. I stood outside next to the church steps and took in our surroundings.

The woods were close in all directions. The largest part of the clearing was right in front of the building where we’d pulled up. There was a cleared patch in the back too, but I didn’t head off to explore right then. It was time to collapse and try to get some sleep.

Mom stuck her head out the door. “Pull the Jeep around back, Harold? Please.”

“Sure.” He threw the rope into the back and ran around to the driver’s seat. The engine growled to life, but the grumbling noise didn’t quit when it should have. A thunderous sound built from the direction of the road.

I grabbed the top step to steady myself and squinted, waiting for a vehicle to appear on the driveway. But the roar grew impossibly loud. I covered my ears and trembled, unable to move, as the noise turned to a piercing, throaty screech.

A low-flying jet screamed up from the valley, hurtling toward us. In the distance, back in the direction of Gatlinburg, a boom echoed through the hills. I swore the ground rumbled like an earthquake, though we were miles from town.

CHAPTER 12

“That’s why we’re not turning any lights on!” Mom screamed over the sound of the departing jet plane.

“The brake lights were on,” I mumbled, and Mom spun her head around to look at the Jeep. Gravel flew as Dad whipped the vehicle around the back of the building out of sight from the driveway.

Mom covered her mouth and muttered, “Oh, crap. You’re right.”

I turned my eyes back to the sky, expecting the plane to reappear any second. Or another to follow the first.

My heart beat as many RPMs as the Jeep’s engine until my stomach felt queasy. I leaned heavily against the steps but couldn’t see the sky well enough. Though I didn’t want to be any more exposed, I pushed off the building and staggered out into the clearing. Everything was so confusing. I couldn’t wrap my head around whether or not my parents were right about this end of the world stuff. I’d gone so long thinking they were crazy.

“Maybe you were right about camping outside tonight,” Dad told Mom when he returned.

“Sure, now you listen. You know I wasn’t planning on using the building until winter anyway.”

“Winter?” I interrupted. “It’s barely June! How long are we-”

“Calm down, hon,” Mom said. “No one’s saying we’re gonna-”

“You just said it!”

“It’s a plan. You plan for long term, but hope you can go back sooner.”

Much like mine, Dad’s eyes kept returning to the sky. “Don’t count on it,” he muttered.

“Great.” I plodded back to the steps and sank down. Leaning my back against the wooden siding of the church, I considered the weight of the matter. With everything I’d seen over the last couple hours, it made perfect sense, but that didn’t make reality sit any better with me. “So we’re supposed to survive out here for six months, maybe longer?”

“At least. We can make it. We’ve got plenty of dried food, and canned stuff too.” I turned up my nose. Mom turned to Dad and added, “We’d better get the garden started tomorrow. The chances of getting away for a bunch of supply runs isn’t looking so good…other than, you know.”

“That’s alright. There’s berries to pick, plenty of water. We can catch some fish, maybe shoot a deer.” Though it seemed like a wacky prepper plan to me, Dad didn’t sound or look nearly as discouraging as I’d expected. Somewhere along the way, he’d apparently gotten more onboard with the prepper lifestyle than I’d thought possible. I still preferred to do my grocery gathering with a shopping cart, if I had to go shopping at all.

Austin stuck his head out the door. “Maddie’s in here bawling like a baby. One of you wanna do something about that so I can get some sleep?”

Dad looked at Mom. “Whose turn is it this time?”

She shrugged. “I ‘spose I better. Wish me luck.”

While she headed inside, Dad turned back to the night sky. “There are so many more stars out here than around the house.”

I followed his view and momentarily forgot about the planes. Though totally random, he was right about the stars. I tried to count a small little piece of the sky and quit well before a hundred. There were thousands, yet I needed a bigger distraction than that to keep my mind from running wild.

Mostly, I wondered how on earth we were going to pass the time. Six months in a primitive cabin in the woods, with no television or phones—or even decent food to eat. Though we were sitting a mile high in the mountains, my world had gone dramatically downhill.

I pondered about home. Were the Feds still parked outside, waiting for us to come out? How long would they wait? And how soon until they found us? I imagined television shows with crime scene people combing our house, looking for hair fibers and DNA and tire tracks that would somehow lead them to the top of Nowhere Mountain.

Then there was Katelyn. If little Gatlinburg was ripped in half by bombs, I could only wonder about life on the outskirts of Knoxville. Hopefully she was home on the big leather couch, snuggled in a blanket, completely oblivious to the collapse of the rest of the country. Though I was still getting to know her better, things had been going really well. I should’ve been there with her. I was ready to start walking back to town to stay with her. Then Dad spoiled my dreams.

“We’d better sleep inside tonight. Let’s go.” The rickety steps creaked as he climbed. The door hinges squealed like my joints, feeling tight and rusty from a long, uncomfortable ride crammed into the back of the Jeep.

A faint wail grew in volume once the door opened. I heard Austin huff and mutter something under his breath. I turned my back on him to follow Dad into the church.

Mom was sitting on the last pew. My sister leaned against her, her body quivering. Gasping sobs broke the quiet every so often.

“Help me spread out some sleeping bags,” Dad said.

“On the pew or the floor?”

“One’s as hard as the other,” he replied. “I think I’ll take the floor.

“Me, too.”

We took the bags to the front of the church up by the lectern where there was more room. Once they were unrolled, I passed out the pillows and flopped down on the nearest one. It was warm enough inside the church that I didn’t bother to get into the bag. Even with the extra padding, the wooden floor was still as hard as I had expected.

“So much for being comfortable,” I said with a groan.

“You’ll be too tired to notice,” Dad said as he stretched out next to me. But he couldn’t stifle a moan of his own.

“Not hardly. By the way, I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

“You know. The tired sound of achy old bones.”

“I’m just tired from driving,” he protested. “That road wore me out.”

“Wore you out? At least you could move. I beat my head more times than a boxer.”

“Someday you’ll appreciate the effort it takes to drive a car. It’s not easy.” He chuckled and rolled over. “If you ever get your license.”

“I will. Soon.”

The lack of a quick reply was disconcerting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. I just needed to practice a little more to take the test. Dad knew that. His silence hinted at something more sinister, probably related to travel permits and other restrictions to keep people off the crumbling roads.

I stared at a ceiling as dark as the world outside, and felt no relief.

“Tomorrow’s a brand new day,” Dad said eventually. “Let’s get some rest.”

 With nothing to look at and even less to say, I rolled onto my side. The heavy curtain of sleep descended like mountain fog, and I lost consciousness in the wispy tendrils.

* * *

When morning came, I realized how badly the old church needed curtains. I was bathed in the purple glow of sunlight streaming through stained glass. Austin was next to me with a swath of red giving his black clothes and hair an evil tinge.

Maddie sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was covered in blues and yellows, adding plenty of color to her pale face. Unfortunately, the green mixture didn’t help take away the sickly look.

“Psst. You okay?” I whispered.

She nodded and brushed her hair from her face, only to end up squinting into the sun. She buried her face in her hands and sighed.

I stood up and walked over to a pew where I could sit down and block the sun for her. “Keep sleeping if you want, sis.”

She laid down, but only for a second. With a groan, she kicked herself up and joined me on the bench.

While staring at the floor, she whispered, “This totally sucks.”

“What?” I tried to bury my nagging concerns. “It’s like any other vacation.”

“Exactly. Only worse.”

I pointed to a skillet and a bag of dried breakfast food sitting on the pew across the aisle from us. Mom must’ve unpacked a few things sometime after I’d nodded off. “Look, nothing’s worse than powdered eggs. The green tinge is way creepy.”

Maddie threatened to smile, but turned it into more of a smirk. “It’s not just the eggs.”

With an overdose of fake cheer, I said, “I can make you some pancakes this morning.”

“Take a hint, dude. It’s not just the food.”

“I know, you’re missing Lukey.”

“Very funny.” She slugged me on the shoulder.

I faked injury. She leaned her head on me and I resisted the urge to shove her away. I’d never been a big fan of having my baby sister hang all over me, but it looked like she needed a shoulder.

“I wanna go home, Zach.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Just like that, Katelyn was suddenly back in my thoughts, wishing me a good morning. It was bordering on obsession, and I shook my head to try to clear her away. I needed to stop thinking about her. One month or six, I knew she would move on before I ever got back to town. At least she would have by the time things got back to semi-normal.

Maddie sighed. “I mean what’s the big deal? Can’t we just leave?”

My overactive imagination dropped out of the clouds, and that brought me low enough to remember the jet zipping overhead last night. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think that’s an option.”

Unexpectedly, I heard the sound of a motor grumbling. I sprang from the pew, leaving a confused Maddie having to throw out an arm to keep herself from falling over.

“Sorry,” I said as I ran down the center aisle for the door to the church.

I pulled the door open just a crack. Metal rattled from the valley below, the sound funneling up the driveway to me.

It seemed like we really were in the clouds. The ground up to shoulder height was mostly clear with a layer of fog settled in on top. The sun was trying its hardest to burn it off, lighting up the windows on the outside of the white, wooden church like a spotlight punching through the haze. I felt dew settle on my arm as I held the door open.

The growing racket reminded me of an old trailer bumping along a gravel road. The louder it became, the more I expected it to crest the hill any second.

A heavy hand slammed onto my shoulder. I jerked around and nearly tumbled out the doorway.

“Sorry, boy,” Dad said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. What’s up?”

I pointed to where the driveway dropped off the hillside. “Something was clunking around on the road down there.” The rattling had rapidly died down, making me wonder if I had been imagining things.

“Hmm, didn’t think we’d be able to hear anything up here.” He scratched the stubble on his chin, not giving any indication that he’d actually heard it. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Not if it scares the crap out of us every time someone drives by.”

“I reckon that’s true too.” He spun around only to be greeted by Mom.

“Looks like it’s time to get some breakfast going…then it’s off to work.” She gave Dad a stern look. “We’re not staying here long.”

“I usually like to read the paper before I get moving around,” Dad joked.

“Missing your T-Bills, Harold?”

“No more than you miss putting in an IV.”

She shook her head. “That never was my favorite part of the job.”

“At least your skills could come in handy up here.”

Though his mood grew darker, Mom didn’t seem to notice it. I didn’t like the way he seemed to be predicting the future.

CHAPTER 13

Mom walked over to the kitchen area she’d arranged in the corner of the church. Next to an empty baptismal font, she’d stacked a number of the water jugs. I felt a little guilty that she’d apparently emptied out the rest of the Jeep while I had slept. I knew better than to assume Austin had helped. His eagerness only went so far when physical labor was involved.

While she filled a blackened steel pot, Dad got out a little burner and hooked it to a portable propane bottle.

“We ought to be saving these,” he said.

“We’ll gather wood for cooking fires soon enough,” Mom said. “But we’ll need to be careful about smoke.”

“Is now a good time for a fire?” I asked, remembering the haze hanging across the clearing.

“Probably so.” Mom nodded. “We’ll be outside tomorrow morning.”

“You’re thinking we should get all of our stuff outta here,” Austin said to Mom. He was sitting cross-legged on top of his sleeping bag, scrubbing the sleep from his dark eyes. “Someone’s gonna come check on the building, right?”

I quickly got over my disappointment at agreeing with Austin. We’d driven through other parts of the park before, like the big village of old log cabins in Cades Cove, and there were always park rangers driving around to check on things.

Mom agreed too. “We’re definitely not staying another night inside.”

“What do you think about dropping a tree or rolling some boulders over the driveway?” Dad asked. “That’ll slow ‘em down if they come check.”

“We’re still not staying,” Mom deadpanned.

“It’s not like this is a busy part of the park,” Dad added. “It was a challenge to get back here.”

“You can say that again,” Austin said. He seemed much happier than he normally would’ve been at that time of the morning. It must’ve been the leftover adrenaline talking.

“Besides, the Park Service has been decimated by budget cuts,” Dad added. “I was sorta hoping they’d gated off the whole park by now.”

“Isn’t there still the highway that runs through the middle to Cherokee?” I asked.

Dad brushed off the question. “Other than that, I doubt too many people are around checking on things.”

“Don’t be so sure, Harold.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to do some more exploring.”

“We need to pack up and get the garden started,” Mom said, continuing the ping pong match of strong opinions.

“But not until we’re sure we’re staying here?” Dad countered with more of a question than a statement.

“We’ve scouted this area out enough. It’s a good spot…just not the building.” She lowered her voice until I could barely hear her say, “At least…now. Depends on…meet up…others.”

Every time they mentioned something about how many times they’d picked out that location, it struck a nerve. I had no idea when they’d done it any more than I had any idea that we’d actually needed to do it. I wasn’t the type to whine or shout about being left in the dark, but I couldn’t just sit around either.

“Zach, where you going?” Mom called as I strode toward the door of the church.

I stopped when I noticed Dad’s hunting rifle leaning against the wall next to the door. “Uhm, I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be running off,” Dad said, and it made me think twice about going.

Surprisingly, Maddie shot down the aisle to join me, saying, “I’m going with him. We’ll be back.”

“Harold?” Mom said. I opened the door while we waited for an answer.

There was confidence lacking when he replied, “They’ll be fine. We wanted them to play outside earlier.”

I wouldn’t have ordinarily wanted Maddie tagging along, but I didn’t object. Misery really does love company, so who better to bring along.

We stepped out into the yard to find the fog was burning off quickly. It was a cool morning, though humid as if we were standing inside a cloud. I took a deep breath of mountain air and looked around the clearing.

“Where to?” Maddie asked.

“Anywhere I don’t have to listen to them bicker.”

“Bothering you too, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a long winter.”

Maddie’s jaw dropped. She turned to stare at me. I couldn’t remember if she’d been there for the conversation about hiding in the mountains for months, and I instantly felt bad about bringing it up. Rather than explain, I decided to change the subject.

“Let’s look around back.” I walked off to where Dad had parked the Jeep behind the church. “We won’t go too far, just far enough to get away.”

“Alright,” she said tentatively.

At the far end of the church, four short rows of granite monuments poked through the grass like Grandpa’s weathered teeth. A rusty black fence was barely visible above the tall grass of the clearing, but the area inside the fence was in even greater need of mowing. Despite the colonies of ticks and other bloodsuckers waiting for me, I moved like I was drawn by a magnet.

“What an awesome graveyard,” I whispered to myself. For some strange reason, they’d always fascinated me—especially in the daylight. The older, the better.

Maddie held up short of the fence and looked at me with wide eyes as I stepped over it. I mashed my way through waves of grass, heading for the closest headstone.

“Eighteen eighty-five,” I said. “It can’t be the oldest.”

My sister shook her head. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to join me. I’d pay for it later when the chigger bites started itching.

I was right about the ages. It turned out that 1885 was actually one of the newest. Several of the death dates went back to the early 1800’s. I stood there for a while longer than I should have, thinking about what life was like in those days, back when there might’ve been a few small cabins scattered on the mountainsides around the old church. I smirked when I realized it probably hadn’t been much different than what was in store for us—and I had no desire to relive the pioneer days.

My mother might have been right, I realized. Kids were spoiled. Until most of our family income had disintegrated and the country followed closely behind, I had pretty much every new electronic gadget. It was limitless entertainment at the touch of a button, at least until the new regime took over and started blocking certain apps and websites, and eventually many of the forums that got Dad in trouble.

I had come to expect that I’d have the latest phone, whether I’d asked for it or not. My parents were that good to me. It seemed like they’d wanted to give me all the things that they’d never been able to have when they were kids. But with an added dose of toughness and self-reliance. I could’ve thanked them for trying, even if I had resented it at the time.

I looked up to see Maddie frowning. I didn’t think it was at me, just at the world in general. I decided to quit playing and soon joined her on the other side of the fence.

“Let’s go check over there,” I said, pointing to the Jeep. It was covered in a dark green tarp to supposedly make it less noticeable. But what really caught my eye was an odd shadow at the edge of the woods behind the vehicle.

She shrugged.

“You can go back inside.”

“No, I’m coming.” She followed me like a puppy dog—not the type that would run off into the woods and explore. She was close enough to touch me, which is exactly what happened when I heard the sound of gravel crunching under wheels.

I dropped to a knee and Maddie ran over my back. She planted a hand with a yelp, and I had to catch her before she tumbled onto her side.

“What the heck?” she said as I lowered her to the ground.

“Shhh. Did you hear that?”

Maddie scrubbed at the dirt on her hand. “What?”

“Gravel. Maybe someone on the road?”

She shook her head. I was about to crawl to the edge of the church when I realized we could see right underneath it. The corners of the building rested upon stacked rocks that looked like they might crumble apart at any moment. There were two other rock piles midway along the sides, but that was it for support. Nothing else held up the church but divine intervention.

Strange as it seemed, I could look right underneath the rather large gap between the ground and the wooden sides. It also meant anyone on the road could see us too. Staying bent over, I pulled Maddie to the center support to give us something to hide behind.

She protested, but didn’t fight me.

“You seriously don’t hear anything?”

She quieted long enough to listen. The sound of tires on gravel was definitely getting louder. Then the deep growl of a motor joined in. Maddie looked at me with eyes as big as golf balls. They were about as white too.

“Just stay down.”

There was no doubt someone was getting closer. I hoped Mom and Dad had quit arguing long enough to hear them coming. I also hoped Dad was already at the front door holding his trusty rifle. For a mild-mannered accountant, he was a pretty good shot.

The cab of a black pick-up truck popped over the top of the hill. A pair of long antennas jiggled on its roof, instantly reminding me of police cars. Had the Feds found us already?

Maddie’s nails dug into my wrist as the driver charged up the rest of the incline and skidded to a halt, pointing the vehicle toward us.

I heard the squeak of the church door. Dad yelled.

CHAPTER 14

“Keep on driving!” Dad shouted. I heard his boots clomp down the steps. He stood facing the truck. I hoped he was as solidly planted as his feet seemed.

The driver revved the motor of the truck, but it didn’t advance. In full view, the dented exterior and rust over the rear wheel indicated rogue stranger rather than the Feds, but equally as dangerous in my estimation.

I peeled Maddie’s hand off to massage the red indentions on my wrist. She squeaked like a field mouse and squeezed tighter behind the rock pile.

I knew I needed to go stand with Dad. As I rounded the corner of the church, Austin and Mom were flying out the front door. She was brandishing a silver pistol that gleamed in the sunlight as brightly as her eyes.

“You’re not welcome-”

Mom interrupted Dad with an unexpected, crooked grin. “Marisol?”

The passenger door of the pick-up flew open. “Sunning Bear?”

“Yeah!” Mom jammed the pistol in her holster and pushed Dad’s rifle to the side. “You made it!”

“Sunny bear?” Dad said to no one in particular, as Mom jogged over to meet Marisol. They hugged and giggled in the middle of the clearing.

The driver killed the engine and climbed out. He was a mountain himself. No less than six and a half feet tall with a shaved head and a silver hoop earring. I thought I’d maybe seen his picture on a bottle of bathroom cleaning solution.

“Sorry. No hard feelings,” Dad said as the man approached.

As they shook hands, the giant said, “No problem, man. You gotta be careful.”

“Apparently we’ve been expecting you.” Dad gestured to the two women who were still hugging and carrying on out in the wide open.

“I wasn’t sure we could find the place,” the man said in the deepest voice I’d ever heard. “It wasn’t easy to get here either. Your wife must’ve given her good, outta the way directions.”

“Glad it worked out,” Mom said, joining the men. She turned to her friend, a fit woman in her forties, with a hint of gray at her scalp where the chestnut hair dye needed to be reapplied. “Everyone, this is my friend, Marisol.”

She extended a hand to Dad first, then the rest of us. “It’s a screen name, but I like it better than my real one.”

“Kinda like Sunny Bear?” Dad said sarcastically.

“Sun-ning. Running Bear was already taken.”

“Well, that makes much more sense.”

“Oh, Harold, don’t be such a fuddy-”

“Show us around, why don’t ya?” Marisol said, interrupting yet another family feud. I knew things tended to get a little snippy after a few days on vacation, but bickering on the first day wasn’t a great start—especially in front of our guests. Guests who would help eat all our food. The giant would surely clean us out in no time.

“Sure.” Mom turned her smile back on, and gestured toward the church. “We’re set up in there for now, but we’re fixing to go get a little deeper into the woods until, you know.”

“There’s a trail behind where our Jeep’s parked,” Dad added. “If you thought it was hard to get here, we can get really remote, really quick.”

“We’ll have some stuff to unload. You want to store it here?” the giant asked. “I’ve got a ton of supplies in the back of the truck.”

“Literally,” Marisol added with a chuckle.

“Great,” Dad said, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as me about the big guy’s grazing habits. “I noticed you riding a little low there. Must be a lot.”

The earring jiggled as the man nodded. “It took a while to pack up.” He sized up Austin out of the corner of his eye, perhaps admiring his eyebrow piercing. “Just the two of us, you know.”

“Yeah, I was lucky to have some help.” Dad walked around the back of the church to show them the hiking trail.

“Pretty small Jeep you got there,” the giant said as he lifted the tarp off a corner. “You don’t have another vehicle up here?”

“No, that’s it. Heard some griping about it too.” Dad shot me a sidelong glance. I didn’t deny the accusation.

The women followed behind us. The giant kept looking over the Jeep, maybe wondering how much stuff we could’ve brought along. Having no idea what kind of packing skills we had, he was probably thinking he got the short end of the deal when it came to sharing supplies.

“Spotted Fawn messaged me that there’s a tent camp they’re going to on a remote hiking trail…outside of Elkmont,” Marisol told Mom. “We could keep our stuff in the truck in case we need to bug out and head over there.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Mom agreed. “It’s always good to have a Plan B. But it’s just as likely they’ll come running to us. Seems risky to use an established camp.”

I thought it didn’t sound any riskier than staying by the church, but I couldn’t fully appreciate the peril at that time.

“I doubt they’d come to us. I figured you didn’t want too many people to know, so I didn’t volunteer where we were headed,” Marisol said. “I do know she didn’t sound too excited about camping. I got the idea she was maybe a little bit pampered.”

“Kinda like my kids,” Mom said. “But they’re doing fine.” I doubted she really believed that. It was more the sort of thing parents were supposed to say.

Maddie wasn’t in a mood to show off. She walked over to sit on the church steps and rested her head in her hands while the others kept talking.

I tuned them out, concentrating more on the trail. It was a narrow, curvy strip of bare dirt tucked between the branches. There was no room for more than one person at a time, and it was going to be hard enough to carry a pack without slamming into trees.

I was hesitant, but intrigued, about where it could possibly go; however, the opportunity to find out didn’t come right then.

“Come have breakfast,” Mom said. “We can talk about unpacking later. We’ve just finished cooking.”

“Happy to join you,” Marisol said.

Mom led them over to the church. Maddie stood out of the way to let our guests past, before sinking onto the steps again. I lingered outside for a moment.

“It’s time to eat, sis.”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

I strode up the steps, but paused at the door. “You better eat something, fatso.”

“Hey!”

“That got you moving. Just tryin’ to wake you up.”

I slipped into the church with Maddie right on my heels. She pinched me on the back of the meaty part of my upper arm, adding another red welt.

A pew tipped as I tripped over the back of it, clunking loudly as it rocked. All heads turned our direction. Maddie slowed, and I slipped behind her. With rosy cheeks, I kept my head down and followed her to the chow line.

The hot breakfast tasted good.

“Even Maddie didn’t complain about the powdered eggs,” Dad said, and I stifled a grin. It’s only because she’d shoveled her scoop onto my plate when they weren’t looking.

As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win. She thanked me for not ratting her out, and I thanked her for the extra food.

While I daydreamed, or maybe more like nightmared about the situation, the adults sat around clinking steel coffee cups. They talked about if and where to set up a garden and a compost heap. Mom remained set on heading off into the woods, but the new arrivals weren’t as convinced.

“Convenience breeds complacency,” she repeated her tired old line to the nodding heads of our guests. It was much harder to understand than simply calling us lazy bums. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Despite her best attempts at persuasion, it became apparent that everyone else was fine with hanging out at the church a little longer. Even Austin, who usually agreed with every prepper thing she said, wasn’t completely onboard with moving out. But that was probably because it was going to require a long walk with heavy packs to God knew where.

“I want to go look for water,” Dad said. “With that bridge close by, there have to be some streams running off the mountain.”

“Fine, you do that,” Mom said. “I’m gonna work on the compost pit and set up a rain barrel with Marisol. If we’re going to stay here a while, we might as well do it right.”

“What about your garden?” Dad asked. “You were all fired up to get that going too.”

“I still am.”

“But what if we end up hiking out of here to camp?” Mr. Clean’s voice boomed inside the church, rattling the stained glass.

“Even if we end up, you know…” Mom gestured with her head toward us, still being as vague as ever. “We still need a garden somewhere…or several. Hopefully the others are all doing the same.”

“Surely they are,” Marisol agreed. “And I think this clearing seems perfect.”

“Isn’t that right, Harold?” Mom smirked at Dad. “Besides, there’s not enough clear space or sunlight where I wanted to set up camp.”

“So we’re going to have to hike back here to check the garden?” Austin asked.

“Well, to repeat your favorite word…duh.” She shook her head. “We’re gonna be hiking everywhere, no matter what.”

Dad agreed. “We’re not driving the Jeep until we absolutely have to.”

“Super.” Austin stretched out on a pew to stare at the ceiling. “How much fun is this gonna be?”

Mom stood up to gather dishes. She looked at Dad and motioned toward Austin. “I hope he’s going with you.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “You want me to leave Maddie here?”

“Not really. I’ll get more done without her.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Maddie said. “And Dad. I’m really feeling loved here.”

“You’re just missing Lukey,” Austin sneered. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

I had a hard time not laughing at hearing Austin quote our mother. Mom didn’t seem to appreciate it quite as much. She shot a look at us that traveled over to our father. He received the message.

“C’mon, kids,” Dad said. “Let’s get outta here.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder and hurried down the steps.

“Where we goin’?” Austin said as we walked out the door of the church into the sunshine.

The morning haze had completely burned off. It was looking like it was going to be a hot, sticky summer day in the mountains. It would be worse yet down in the city. A fellow needed to stretch to find something to be happy about, but not sweating at 9:00 a.m. was almost worth cheering.

“Let’s head back toward the main road,” Dad said. “I’d like to see how much water’s running in the creek.”

“Then what?” Austin asked, not sounding thrilled about the hike so far. Neither was I.

“Probably look around a little, try to find a smaller stream. We’ll need a steady water supply, but somewhere safe and secluded to get it.”

The stream part sounded better to me. Splashing around in the bubbling water of a steep mountain stream was my favorite thing to do in the Smokies. Listening to water ripple over the rocks, climbing over fallen trees and wading through the chilly pools was about as much fun as a guy could find around the area. It wasn’t exactly Disney World, but it was pretty close.

Before I knew it, we were halfway down the hill toward the main road. The driveway was steep, and I knew from experience going downhill could be every bit as tough as climbing up the mountainside.

“This sucks.” Maddie slowed to sit on a fallen log along the side of the narrow driveway.

Beads of sweat had already formed on my forehead, but the real heat was in my legs. “Yeah, my shins are burning.”

“It’s my calves that are on fire,” Dad said. “Good call on taking a break.”

“Sissies,” Austin muttered. He skipped farther down the road, disappearing around a curve to the left. No one bothered to stop him.

We sat for several minutes. Dad rubbed his lower legs and stood to stretch while I sat on the log next to Maddie. The sweat dried up quickly. In the shade it was almost cool, especially when a rare breeze sliced through the trees.

Other than the usual storm that popped up out of the blue in the summertime, the air always seemed still, like the wind couldn’t make its way through all the twists and turns of the mountains.

I stared across the driveway at a vertical chunk of exposed brown rock. Rather than the horizontal grain like the way highways were blasted through the mountains on the way to Nashville, these rocks looked crooked. The face might have been mostly flat, but the seams poked upward at a steep angle. I stood up from my seat to walk across the road and run my hand over the grain.

“Funny looking, isn’t it,” Dad said. “There’s a reason for that.”

I was willing to humor him. Dad was always in a better mood when he got to explain something, even if the explanation didn’t make sense to me.

“You mean the way they’re almost pointed up?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s what made the mountains.” Dad slung the rifle over his shoulder so he could hold his two hands out flat. Then he slammed them together into a steeple. “Tectonic forces. The rocks were shoved together and rose out of the ground.”

For a change, something actually made sense. Maybe it was the visual aid. It’s harder to do that with columns of numbers that look like gibberish.

“That’s pretty cool,” I admitted.

I looked to see if Maddie was paying attention, but she was still sitting on the fallen log. She hopped up a moment later as Austin came sprinting up the hill, yelling hysterically.

CHAPTER 15

“Keep it down!” Dad whispered harshly. He held the rifle in his hands, pointing it down the road.

Austin slid in the gravel, his eyes wild. He panted like a dog. Sweat poured off his brow as if he’d run through a rain storm. His words came so quickly I could barely keep up. “We’ve got company. Soldiers all over the road, big green trucks, all kinds of Humvees.”

“Slow down.” Dad grabbed him by the shoulder. “Did they see you?”

“I don’t think so. I’m too smart for that.”

“Yeah, whatev-”

Dad stopped me from saying something I might regret with a series of questions. “Which way? How close? How many?”

“Headed right to left. That’s back toward town, right?” Dad nodded, so Austin continued. “A whole bunch of ‘em. There were these big truck-looking things with trailers, carrying Humvees on ‘em.”

“And they seriously didn’t see you?” I asked.

“I dove in the bushes when I saw the first streak of green. Stayed up the driveway, never got down to the road.” He looked at his arm and proudly displayed a series of scratches that he’d probably use as a template for his next tattoo. “Sat there for a sec before booking it back up here.”

“Hmmm,” Dad said, very obviously reverting back into thinking mode. “Probably going to Gatlinburg, maybe Knoxville. But why wouldn’t they take the main road?”

“Sneaking up on ‘em?” I volunteered.

“Maybe, but who needs stealth when you’ve got power? And they’ve got it all.” Dad turned to head up the driveway. “Something’s in the works here. We’d better go tell the others.”

I didn’t argue with the plan. Running back up the hill seemed safer than taking on the army. Dad’s one rifle wasn’t enough of a confidence booster.

The blood was really flowing by the time we made it back up hill. It took a moment to regain our breath before anyone could talk. As the group gathered outside the church by a newly-built compost heap, Dad relayed Austin’s sighting to the others.

Marisol exchanged a glance with Mr. Clean before saying, “We’ve got a CB radio in the truck. Let’s go find out what’s going on.”

Mom exchanged a glance of her own with Dad.

“We have the two-ways,” he said, pointing inside the church.

“We’ll get better reception with the CB,” Mr. Clean boasted and pointed to the roof of the truck. “I got me them big ole antennas so we can really reach out and touch someone.”

“He reminds me of a truck driver,” Dad whispered to Mom just loud enough for me to overhear him.

“Could be…and that’s good. Trucker radios provide lots of valuable intel…especially on the cops.” Mom motioned with her head toward the truck for him to follow our guests. “We’ll get our two-ways out later. The CB can’t be traced either.”

While Dad went to listen in, Mom had the rest of us help with chores. Maddie swept out the dusty pews of the church and brought the rugs outside for Austin to beat, while I picked up sticks in the yard. It felt a lot like a Little House on the Prairie episode, including the ever-present drought.

Finally, Dad and the other two came back from the truck. Their faces told the whole story. He waved Mom over, and she immediately dropped what she was doing.

Marisol kept her voice low, so I edged a little closer to listen in on the circle of adults.

“It’s total chaos now…just like you’d predicted,” she said, looking at Mom. “They turned on the protestors in Gatlinburg yesterday. The peaceful demonstration turned into a full scale riot. From the sound of it, they called in an air strike. Must’ve killed hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” Mom grew quiet before adding, “My God, we saw that last night.”

“That probably wasn’t the National Guard your boy saw down by the road,” Mr. Clean said. “I’d say the full weight of the Army’s on the move.”

“Fort Bragg’s not far from here,” Dad said.

“Exactly,” Mr. Clean said. “Last I knew, Strategic Crisis Response Corps was based there.”

Dad tilted his head at Mr. Clean. “Say what?”

The giant of a man waved his hand dismissively. “I know some civilian contractors. Airborne and Special Ops command are based there.” He looked over the group with dark, deeply set eyes and a stone face. “It’s the perfect force for fast response pretty much anywhere in the world.”

“Only it just so happens to be our backyard,” Marisol added.

“But that’s kinda good, right?” I said. Four heads whipped around to stare at me. “I mean, uhm…they’re gonna kinda make everything alright again…maybe?”

Mr. Clean snorted. “Brainwashed, these young ones, huh?”

Mom stepped away from the group and wrapped an arm around me like I was five years old. I flashed back to the day Grandma died years before, when Mom sat me down and broke me the news. Though I didn’t understand it enough to feel the pain at the time, the meaning became crystal clear when I saw the casket.

“There’s nothing good about this, hon,” Mom whispered.

“I get that the Feds have been watching us for a while.” Screwing up my life.

“Just imagine the detectives bringing tanks to the house next time. Maybe shooting your father because of something he did, or didn’t, write.” She gave it a minute to sink in. “This is escalating, not easing.”

“But the soldiers protect us. Keep us free.”

“Not last night. Not from here on out.” She stared off into the woods for a moment while the thoughts simmered like filthy, boiling laundry. “All the generals have been replaced by the new regime, and most of the other officers too. No one’s waving flags for these guys. No yellow ribbons like there used to be. I mean there’s still a few good ones, but most are gonna do whatever they’re told. They have to.”

“They’re people just like us.”

“Not very many.” Mom shook her head. “Most are out there pushing the government’s agenda full speed ahead. For the new recruits, the few good ones, the sad reality is it’s better to have a job than nothing at all. And they’ll follow orders to keep it…as if they had a choice.”

I refused to believe that. Things were bad. Or worse than bad. But they couldn’t just turn on us. I wondered what really would’ve happened if they’d seen Austin. Would we have been sent to prison or shot on sight? There were so many questions. Somewhere along the way, fantasy had seemingly become reality, but I was having a hard time grasping it. The darkness was all around me, but I still tried to focus as hard as I could on the scattered, dwindling bits of light.

“What’s really going on?” I asked. “Without all the financial mumbo jumbo.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not too complicated. Uhm, I guess I’d say the other nations, China mostly, called in our debts, and there was no way we could pay. The new government wasn’t worried, so we defaulted…I mean quit paying them, thinking they could never make us cough up the money.” Her hands kneaded together furiously. “There was no way we could, the hole was too deep. So they found another way to get their revenge, and it played right into the government’s hands.”

“How?”

“Someone hacked the computer networks, killing pretty much all the banks and everyone’s credit cards. Remember when we couldn’t get anything at the grocery store, or anywhere really?”

I hadn’t forgotten that. People had panicked about food, and the lines were around the corner at every gas station for weeks, then they’d suddenly stood empty.

Mom took a deep breath before continuing. “When you’re this far in the hole and sinking fast, I reckon it was easier to wreck us than try to bail out a ship that was obviously gonna sink. Kinda like the renter who doesn’t pay his bills. Eventually the landlord cuts their losses and kicks ‘em out.” Mom looked over at Dad, who was still talking to the other two adults. “But mostly we wrecked ourselves. No matter the warnings, the calls to action, everyone was too greedy to make it stop. The politicians who spent it, and the people who kept clambering for more handouts. And that left a void for a strong new leader to step in and grab the reins, only he’s used them to choke his own people rather than fix the problems.”

I sighed, letting the weight of it all sink in. “You know, that makes a lot more sense than the way Dad explained it.”

“He’s a numbers guy. I have a hard time following him too sometimes.” She gave me the maternal smile, but thankfully skipped the pat on the head. “The easiest thing to remember is no credit cards and no money to lend killed the banks. The government tried to prop them up by printing useless paper money with nothing to back it up, so now everything costs a fortune, if you can even find what you need. When people dared complain, the new regime cried revolt and turned the military on us.”

The light bulb popped on. “And that’s why we don’t hardly use paper money…and why you’ve got all those gold coins hidden in-”

“Shhh, not so loud.” She pressed a finger to her lips and shot a glance at the others. “We don’t talk about that.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s alright. We just need to be careful about that kinda stuff,” she whispered. “Don’t trust anyone until they give you a good reason to trust them.”

I was definitely beginning to get the picture. With no cops, no soldiers, no strangers to turn to for help, pretty much everyone was off limits. Maybe even the other preppers like her, hiding out in a tent camp on a trail somewhere. Granted, she’d trusted Marisol and the bald guy with our location, but only them, and nothing about the gold—and they were supposedly her good friends.

I wondered how she’d feel about Katelyn, but knew the answer. She’s practically a stranger. Trust no one.

But for how long would that last? Forever?

CHAPTER 16

By the time lunch rolled around, I wasn’t sure I could survive out there a month, let alone a lifetime. I kept thinking the soldiers would help restore order and everything would eventually be all right. But my parents and the strangers spent lunchtime poking more holes in that dream than a corkboard.

The word anarchy kept coming up a lot. Dad seemed a little more certain that people would eventually band together and straighten things out, while Mom seemed to be more on the side of hiding in the mountains until the end of time. I hadn’t given much thought to death, but I knew enough that I really didn’t want a wooden cross marking our places one by one in the graveyard behind the church. And I wasn’t sure which would get me there sooner—armed resistance or hiding like rats.

I cracked the back door open and stood in the doorframe for a while, letting the midday sun beat down on me like the rest of my problems. The headstones were mere footsteps away. They were too old and moss-covered to reflect the sunlight like the shiny, fancy ones in the city cemetery. I couldn’t stand looking at them anymore, and turned my attention back to the mockingly clear, blue sky.

A white streak soared overhead looking like a cross between a kite and a remote controlled plane. I ducked back inside but kept my eyes glued to the sky. The object looped slowly over something not too far away, reminding me of a buzzard circling fresh road kill. I realized it was a lot larger than I’d originally thought, but still much smaller than a commercial airliner.

It was noiseless, but definitely some type of aircraft. Long sweptback wings stood in stark contrast to the stubby ones poking out from behind a bulbous cockpit, giving it a space alien look.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Mom joined me at the window. When I pointed to the UFO, her face quickly turned ashen. “Harold.”

He sat up on the pew in the front row. It was somewhere we never would’ve sat during an actual service. “Yeah?”

“The drones are out.”

“What? Armed?” He sprung from his seat to hurry to the doorway.

“How do you tell?” she whispered.

It looked harmless to me. I was more fascinated at actually seeing a drone than anything else. We’d heard stories on the news about drones over the cities for surveillance, drones in the wars taking out terrorists. This was definitely the airplane type, not one of those cheap mini-helicopter ones that kids might get for Christmas gifts. It was pretty cool to actually see one in flight.

Mom pulled the door tighter, leaving just a crack. Dad had to stand on his tiptoes to see over her, while I crouched in front of them watching the plane ride the thermals like an eagle.

“Is everything covered?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, the Jeep and their truck are back in the woods now…tarped.”

“Good.”

“Don’t worry.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “See, it’s flying off…probably just checking out Gatlinburg from a distance.”

Dad returned to the pew and stretched out on the hard wood. I couldn’t have slept there ten minutes, but he looked like he could stay there all day. Mom finally left me to my thoughts. She went back over to the kitchen area, and resumed humming to herself as she put things away.

I stood at the back door a while longer, even though the drone was long gone. Not a cloud marred the sky. I could imagine families talking about going to the ocean. Maybe taking a road trip to Myrtle Beach to catch some rays for a while like Katelyn. To do anything other than staying home in the summertime, if they could actually line up the travel permits or whatever else might’ve been required. Life had gotten so much more complicated, making home exactly where I wanted to be.

Seeing how I couldn’t get away, I decided to at least get away with my own thoughts for a while. I needed a walk.

“Where you going?” Mom looked up as the steps squeaked.

“Down to the road again.” She raised an eyebrow, so I added, “We never did make it to the creek. Gotta find some freshwater.”

She hesitated before finally relenting. “Just take someone with you, okay?”

I looked at my options. Dad was already sawing logs on the pew. He’d be out for a while. Maddie was either asleep or faking. I would’ve thought the latter, but she’d been unaffected by the drone earlier.

“I think they’re all busy.”

Mom walked over to the door, leaving our two guests sitting on the carpet by the pulpit. “What about your brother?”

I pointed to the woods, where he sat in the shade whittling sharp points onto a pile of sticks. “He’s busy coming up with plans to turn this into an armed compound.” I could only hope I didn’t step in one of his traps on my way back.

“You could fall and bust your head. I’ll go with you.”

“No way.” I stepped onto the grass before she could protest, and took off down the driveway at a jog, but not without confirming that the sky was still empty first. “You can stay with your friends.”

“There’s soldiers out there,” she pleaded as she trailed me across the clearing.

Over my shoulder, I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

I didn’t look back until I was halfway down the hill. Thankfully, she hadn’t followed, since I needed to stop to catch my breath. I found the same log as last time to sit and massage my shins for a minute.

 The longer I sat there, the more I wondered about what Mom had said earlier. I wasn’t about to walk in front of a convoy to see if the soldiers would shoot me, but I also didn’t feel like I was the problem in this messed up world. Surely they could see the difference between some vandal breaking windows for fun and a harmless someone else just trying to survive.

Then I remembered the road signs.

Park Closed

Keep Out

Mandatory Curfew

We were breaking the law too, and eyes were everywhere. I stood to kick a pebble down the driveway.

“If only Dad hadn’t been so vocal,” I thought out loud. “The Feds never would’ve been on to us.”

We could’ve stayed in our comfortable home in the big subdivision, eight blocks away from Katelyn. I could’ve run over to her house every day, and watched movies on her couch. We would’ve hung out all summer, bonding thick as glue in a matter of days, if not hours.

Her laugh, that perfect smile; they tortured me. Everything with her had been going surprisingly well, and it had evaporated as quickly as a Jeep ride—much like my memories would if I couldn’t get back to see her again.

I decided it was Dad’s fault, plain and simple. Maybe Mom’s too. As far as I knew, no one else had to run away except for kooks and criminals. If only we were more normal.

I stared down the driveway, but couldn’t see the road. The road that split through the narrow gap between two peaks. The road that could take me back home. I knew it would take days to get there, but I had the time. A few days of walking beat a lifetime of hiding in the mountains.

My feet moved without being told. I continued planning my future.

Katelyn would take me in; she’d have to. If I couldn’t get back into my house, I knew she’d let me stay. She had a giant house and only one older brother. Of course, I realized her folks might not allow it, though. Parents were always funny about letting boyfriends stay the night, or so I’d heard. Assuming I was actually her boyfriend and not a friend who’s a boy. If I didn’t get back home, I wouldn’t be either one.

If not her, one of my other buddies would help me out. Naturally, I didn’t have a lot of close friends; my parents’ weirdness made sure of that. But Joe was well aware of my situation and wasn’t too judgmental. No doubt he would let me crash with him. Either way, I decided my first stop was Katelyn’s house—after a shower at mine. She’d never let me stay over smelling the way I did.

Trickling water pulled me back to the present. I looked up to find myself in the middle of the main road.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered, and jerked my head around, certain someone had to be following me. I was all the way down by the bridge, a football field away from the driveway. To my left, water tumbled off the mountainside, dripping over boulder ledges. The stream rushed under the road into a wide, fast-running creek on the other side. The creek that the road seemingly followed all the way through the mountain range.

Seeing no one trailing me, I dove off into a shoulder-high ditch on the roadside. I pressed my body up against the slope, letting only my head show from the nose up.

Still marveling at how I’d gotten so far down the road without noticing, I muttered, “Wow, how’d that happen?” I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and got a better sense of where I was, but little about where I was going. With a deep exhale, I thought again about leaving. Are you seriously gonna do this?

The counterpoints came fast like a never-ending tennis volley.

Why not?

Mom will lose it.

One less mouth to feed. Just leave a note.

How? Besides, it’s not fair to bail.

Don’t look back, it’s better to go.

They’ll look for me.

Then they should’ve come with you. Or never brought you out here.

I can’t do it.

You can’t live this way.

Maybe, I finally admitted. Not for months. I couldn’t last that long in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t live without groceries, no matter how much I hated shopping. I couldn’t live without showers, and I wasn’t a huge fan of those either. If it hadn’t been so serious, I might’ve chuckled thinking about all the things I disliked yet somehow couldn’t live without.

I knew there was a definite right and wrong answer when it came to running away, but an awful lot of gray too. It came down to two pivotal points: either wait and see what was really going to happen with the world, or go back and find out for myself. I wasn’t someone who liked being told what to do. I preferred to find things out for myself.

I’d never be happy hiding. But I might stay alive that way. Maybe.

I wanted to beat my head against the rocks. Maybe knock myself unconscious for twenty years like a modern-day Rip Van Winkle. Waking up to find out what happened would be preferable to living in the dark, even if it came with a flowing, foot long beard. Especially to miss out on the hardships of a new American revolution, just like Rip.

Right when it sounded too good to be true, I remembered some of his loved ones were dead when he came back from the mountains, and I cursed Mrs. Dohrmann for making me read that story in English class. I should’ve skipped the end rather than skipping to the end.

“Always looking for a short cut,” I murmured. “That’ll teach me.”

Before I had time to dwell on that, the sound of tires squealing around a curve straightened me up. Flashing lights suddenly appeared in the distance, zipping toward the bridge. I buried my head in my hands and shrank deeper into the ditch, wondering if death was coming in twenty minutes rather than years.

CHAPTER 17

I curled up in a ball, pressing my back up against the exposed rock poking through the ditch slope. Multiple sets of tires hummed on the straightaway. The longer grass along the edge of the road whipped in the tailwind of each vehicle, helping me guess how many streaked past. It was either four or five. Somewhere in the rush of blood to the head, I lost count.

When the road grew quiet, I slowly raised my trembling body out of the ditch like a turtle poking its head out of its shell. I caught the outline of a big, white vehicle disappearing up the driveway to the church. It was similar in shape to the Feds’ Suburbans, but not black.

More importantly, there was no way to warn everyone.

I gripped an exposed rock, scratching my fingers to keep from sliding back to the bottom of the ditch.

“What to do?” I repeated.

I heard the faint crunch of gravel on the driveway, but couldn’t make out the red and blue flashing lights through the dense forest.

I sat a moment longer, drawing ragged breaths like I’d run the mile in gym class. My legs were just as tired, refusing to hold me up.

I waited for the sound of gunshots. And waited. Not even a shout or a car door slamming.

When I couldn’t delay anymore, I climbed out the backside of the ditch and took off hiking through the woods along the stream.

I had no idea where I was going, but I had to try. It was my chance to run away, but I went straight back to them.

It was a challenge to move quickly through the untamed forest. Brambles pulled at my boots, constantly trying to trip me. I fought off the blackberries that twisted out of thin air to dig spikes into my pant legs. They gouged my hands and scratched my arms like claws, but still I kept powering on, determined to make it back to the church.

But the hill was every bit as steep as the driveway, and I quickly ran out of gas. After being battered by several limbs, and eventually knocked over, I slumped to the ground.

The sound of water trickling over rocks was unexpectedly close. I shook my head in disbelief, certain I’d somehow gotten turned around in my diagonal rush up the hill toward the church and ended up somewhere near the stream I’d thought I’d left behind.

I kept hoping to hear anything else, but the rest of the forest was deathly quiet. Not even a bird chirped as I sat and breathed in gulps of stifling humidity.

Sweat clung to the hair on my arms like acid, burning into the scratches across them. The brambles made the woods as much a torture chamber as a sanctuary, and water was the only thing to ease the sting.

I forced myself to stand and headed off for the stream. The bubbling grew louder quickly, and in no time I found the source. There was no indication of a bank or a slope to climb. It was just a straight walk from the trees into the sparkling, clear water.

The stream was typical Smoky Mountain, steep but mostly straight. It seemed as if a dump truck had let loose a giant load of dark purplish-gray rocks at the mountaintop and let them tumble all the way to the bottom, stopping wherever they had felt like it.

Water spilled over and around the bigger rocks, running in several streams and coming back together in haphazard fashion, much like the placement of the boulders. Up against the rocky stream, trees crowded the sides. Despite the brilliant sun somewhere overhead, it was shadowy and suddenly cool.

I climbed over a slippery rock to a deeper pool and plunged a scarred arm into the water. Though I knew how cold it would be, it was still a shock. When I had time to play in the creeks in flip flops or bare feet, the frigid spring water would quickly turn my toes numb—and just as rapidly to an almost frostbitten pink color. Right then, I would’ve settled for numb.

There was no time to play. I quickly doused both my arms with ice water and scrubbed away the burning. I wasn’t sure where it would take me, but rather than brave the forest again I set off climbing the stream.

It was much faster. The rocks were arranged like primitive stairs. So long as I kept away from the wet or wobbly ones, it was an easy climb. I dodged back and forth, choosing my footsteps quickly, but carefully. Every so often a big, flat rock would shift, but I successfully avoided planting a foot on the slick ones. Soon, it felt like I was up close to the church in no time.

Besides not knowing exactly where I was at, I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the splashing water. So, confident that I had to be nearby, I slipped off into the woods.

It wasn’t twenty paces before I started doubting myself. Everything looked the same. Green leafy forest surrounded me. I couldn’t see the stream despite the close proximity.

“What now?” I muttered.

I straightened my back to stretch out the kinks and plowed on ahead. Surprisingly, I hit a narrow dirt trail. It was barely big enough for one person; in several tighter places I had to duck under branches. But it was a welcome relief to find some kind of path, even if it was only used by deer or bears.

Thinking of bears, I wondered about slowing down. The last thing I wanted to do was run up on one while I jogged along the trail. I wasn’t sure which of us would be more scared. I knew from experience that black bears, though timid, were unpredictable when you surprised them.

I couldn’t slow down, though. Not until I knew what was going on at the church. I prayed the path would take me somewhere close, and my prayers were soon rewarded. I stumbled up to a spot where I noticed two tarp-covered lumps ahead in the woods. Sunlight streamed into the clearing beyond them, giving me a sudden, heavenly glow.

Slowing to a crawl, I made my way closer to our Jeep. Flashing lights sprayed through the leaves like a wobbly disco ball, but what I saw out in the clearing was no party.

CHAPTER 18

Mr. Clean’s face was pressed up against a white Chevy Tahoe. Two men almost as big stood behind him partially blocking my view, but I could still make out the blood running down the back of his shiny head. A dark stain spread through his white t-shirt from his collar to his shoulder blade. Marisol was sprawled face down in the yard. Another thug in a green uniform sat on her back brandishing a baton. Mom and the rest of my family were nowhere to be seen.

“How many others?” yelled another green uniformed man at Mr. Clean. He waved a pistol, making his point with words and threats to go along with the beating.

Mr. Clean grunted something and was rewarded with another shove into the side of the Tahoe. His body sagged, and the two thugs at his sides moved in to roughly hold him up.

Before I could feel too optimistic about the chance my family had escaped, another uniformed man appeared at the top of the steps to the church. I leaned forward, but couldn’t hear what he was saying. My eyes remained fixed on the church even after he left carrying nothing more than a black military-style rifle. Dad owned a couple like that one, but it wasn’t one of ours.

Had they made it out?

They could’ve been tied up inside, or maybe already stuffed inside a Tahoe. But the sound of boots pounding on the ground cut any speculation short.

Not twenty yards away from me, the tarp ripped off the pick-up truck. I slunk deeper into the woods, going backwards on my belly, trying to put distance between me and the Jeep without stirring the brush.

The man beating Mr. Clean stopped long enough to growl, “We knows there’s two vehicles here.” He grabbed the big man by the chin and forced him to turn his head. “They’re not both yours!”

I held my breath, attempting to move as quietly as I could. But it was hard keeping an eye behind me on where I was going and still keeping track of these soldiers or policemen or whatever they were.

Inevitably, I kicked a bush with my heel and made it worse by shaking it when I jerked my foot back.

The man about to pull the tarp off our Jeep froze, staring into the forest. I buried my face in my hands and prayed the dark shirt was enough to keep me hidden. The terror mounted as the seconds ticked by. If the guy came in my direction, I knew he’d spot me. It was just a matter of getting close enough.

Rather than try to melt into the ground, I pulled my legs up under me so I could spring away like a frightened rabbit.

A stick snapped close. Too close. I couldn’t resist the urge to look up, and spotted the man walking into the woods with his rifle pointed toward my hiding place. But he wasn’t close to where the stick had cracked.

Out of nowhere, I heard my name.

“Run, Zach!”

It was Austin.

He rose off the forest floor in some kind of camouflage made from leaves, and gave a ferocious war whoop. I watched dumbfounded as he chucked a wooden spear at the guy, and took off in a flash.

That was my cue. I booked it back toward the path, but impulsively chose not to follow it. The sharp, piercing crack of a shot rang out, then another. My knees buckled, but I refused to fall. As the sound rolled through the woods like thunder, I let it spur me on.

Without looking back, I turned uphill. I ran until I had nothing to give, and kept running farther. I made a racket; I didn’t care. I crashed through brush like a runaway car, fortunate I didn’t wrap myself around a tree.

My stamina gave out eventually. I sank to the ground behind a magnolia tree, letting my clothes blend in with the deep green leaves. My chest heaved. I put my hands behind my head like a marathon runner only to realize I looked more like a prisoner of war.

My arms dropped back to my sides when I heard leaves rustling. I stayed on my knees, but slunk forward to where I could lift a branch and look out from the tree down the mountainside. The noise continued, soft like a deer stepping through the forest on a cool November morning. Only this time, I was the hunted.

I caught sight of branches moving, then nothing. Something dark and shadowy was slipping through the woods. I doubted the soldiers, or whatever they were, would be so quiet.

Against my better judgment, I called out, “Austin?”

A whippoorwill-sounding whistle came back. I stayed planted in my spot, staring downhill until I saw the leaves move again. The shadow was close when I spoke again, softer that time.

“Over here.”

Austin whistled again, probably his way of letting me know I shouldn’t be talking.

The mass of leaves moved my direction until he was standing in front of the magnolia. If he’d run, he’d done a good job of keeping his camouflage on. Leafy twigs poked from the collar and sleeves of his shirt and from the pockets of his pants. More branches were tied around his chest with twine.

His face was smeared with mud, completing the disguise. No wonder the guy never saw him. Austin was ready for war, while I was scratched mercilessly, my shirt soaked with sweat. But we were alive.

“We made it,” I said as I stepped out from underneath the tree.

Austin gave me a nod before turning his eyes downhill. “Barely.”

“They shot at us.”

“Well, duh. You think they wouldn’t?”

I paused, not sure what to say. I should’ve assumed they would, but still had trouble accepting what had happened. Finally, I blurted, “Who were those guys?”

“Park Rangers.”

“Seriously? With guns and batons?”

“Shhh, keep it down.” Austin dropped to a knee and motioned for me to do the same. “They were rounding up rebels…cleaning out the park.”

“That’s what we are, rebels?”

Although I was appalled, he simply chuckled. “Apparently so.”

Just like that, we weren’t simply some people hiding out anymore. Someone decided we were rebels trying to do God knew what. Maybe start a civil war from our mountain camp. I’d thought maybe we were just hiding, but suddenly wondered if my father actually had bigger plans for us. Other than being annoyingly vague, Mom seemed more likely to curse and hide while Dad was more of the revolutionary when it came to the new regime. Either way, it didn’t look good for us, and I knew it really didn’t look good for Mr. Clean and his wife.

“I saw Marisol and the big guy getting beaten. Where’s everybody else?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Austin made me wait, giving me time to start working on a plan to bust our parents and Maddie free from the ranger’s convoy. Finally, without looking away from downhill, he interrupted my unnecessary planning by whispering, “Hiding out here somewhere.”

“All of them?”

“I think so.”

I grabbed him by the wrist to get his attention. “You think?”

“They’re supposed to be.” He jerked his arm free. “There’s no telling. We need to get moving.”

He stood and turned to face toward the top of the mountain. It was going to be quite a climb before we made it to the peak. We were fortunate it was more of a rounded knob than some of the rocky, steep ridges like the area of the park over by the Chimney Tops. That section crested in sharp, vertical lines like the blade of a knife. Spiky Fraser firs and spruce trees dominated the upper reaches of those peaks, adding to the challenge.

“Which way did they go?” I asked as I trailed off behind Austin.

“Probably uphill, but I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You know Mom, she’ll want to stay close to the supplies, but using the higher ground as an advantage.”

I nodded. “We packed in all that crap. I’d hate to lose it too.”

“Good luck. The rangers are probably loading it up now. Or getting ready to burn it all.”

I cringed at the idea, and the anxiety abruptly turned into anger. After all we went through to pack it up and bring it out here, the thought was horrifying. And then depressing.

A slight grin crossed my face when I imagined Mom screaming out of the woods, chasing the rangers away with a broom if that’s what it took to save her seeds and water. And the gold coins.

Austin pushed his way through another magnolia, and cut sharply to the left to avoid what looked like one of the many species of pine trees. I couldn’t tell the difference between most. There had to be a hundred different types of trees in the Smokies—almost enough for the whole alphabet, from alder and ash to witchhazel and yellow buckeye.

I considered our options. As much as Mom might want to keep an eye on camp, she’d have to recognize that someone could come looking for us in the woods. She’d want to be somewhere close, but concealed. That meant either down by the driveway where she could watch them leave, or maybe up high like Austin had suggested.

I turned to look back in the direction of the clearing, but there was obviously nothing to be seen but green. I wondered if it would be easier to get around in the wintertime when the hardwoods dropped their leaves, but couldn’t bear to think that I might still be out there that long. Especially without our meager supplies.

Austin dropped in front of me. Lost in my nightmarish dreams, I nearly tripped over him.

“I heard something,” he whispered harshly. “Sounds like an animal wailing.”

I strained my ears and picked up on a high-pitched squeal from somewhere right above us. “Bear? Bobcat?”

“Maybe. Could be a fox or coyote. Whatever it is, it’s hurt bad.”

CHAPTER 19

When the wailing turned to sobs, I recognized the creature. A fourteen-year-old girl who wanted very badly to go home.

“Maddie,” Austin and I said at the same time.

He scowled and added, “She needs to shut up.”

I left him behind, running as fast as I could manage toward the sound. She didn’t stand to greet me, but two others did.

“Thank God,” Mom said, and she held open her arms. I fell into them only to be joined by Dad in a group hug. “I was worried they’d gotten you.”

“Same here.” I breathed a giant sigh of relief and wriggled out of the embrace before it became overly awkward. “How’d you get away?”

“We owe it all to Marisol really,” Dad said, “and Big Dave. She slowed them down at first, before Dave went out, giving us time to slip out through the cemetery.”

“I hate like hell that we bailed on ‘em,” Mom said, and I could see that truth in her eyes. No amount of miracle cream was going to reverse the ten years she’d added onto her face in the last hour.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Austin said, finally arriving to join in the conversation. “There were way too many.”

“At least you got out,” I said softly.

“Had to drag this one out the door,” Dad added, pointing at a Maddie-sized heap hiding behind a bush. “She’s kind of a wreck.”

“Harold!”

I saw the whites of Maddie’s eyes move, but she made no sound other than the occasional sob slipping through her weakened defenses. While Austin talked to Mom and Dad, I went over to sit by her.

Maddie straightened up a little. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. In a way, I guessed she had. She’d probably been sleeping when the nightmare arrived.

“You okay?” I volunteered a shoulder, but she shrugged.

She sniffled before offering up a weak, “Not really.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t try. I figured my presence would have to be enough, but it wasn’t. There was nothing positive about the situation. Besides, I barely understood it myself. Plus we had no supplies, no food, and nowhere to run. And Maddie was about to dehydrate from all the crying.

Before I could ask my parents what they wanted to do next, a foul odor rose up the mountainside. I left Maddie to her tears to go stand by the others. Judging by Dad’s scrunched up nose, I figured he’d already smelled it too.

It was rotten eggs and scorched paper mixed together in a vile concoction.

“Smells like burning trash,” Dad said.

“Our trash, Harold.” Mom gripped a tree like she needed it for support.

I shot a look at Austin, who nodded in confirmation of our earlier conversation. We really didn’t have any supplies left anymore.

“So much for being prepared,” Mom muttered. “I knew we should’ve gotten away from that church sooner.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Dad said, but it obviously wasn’t comforting—perhaps because he was the one who’d been in less of a hurry to leave the church.

Mom paced like a caged tiger from one aspen tree back to another. “They’ll be coming for us next.”

“I doubt it. They’ll leave us out here to starve,” Dad said.

Maddie sobbed louder. I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of their conversation between Maddie’s bawling and the aching in my gut. I was hungry enough to eat bark, but the pain was from something else altogether.

There was no way we could shelter in the church anymore. Anyone could’ve figured that out. We had to move, but I had no clue what my parents had in mind for a Plan B. I was completely dependent on them, which did nothing for my confidence. Then again, I supposed that wasn’t much different than back home—only the stakes had been raised exponentially.

I walked off far enough that I could keep the others in sight, and stared into the woods wondering if it was time to ask about going to find Katelyn. I decided I wouldn’t run away, at least not then, but thought it might make sense for us to consider hiding out in her basement. Or Joe’s. The Feds wouldn’t expect to find us at either place. If only we could get there.

I shook my head, quickly realizing there was no way my parents would agree to any part of that plan. They appeared set on staying in the park, no matter how many setbacks we suffered. A sense of hopelessness crept into my racing thoughts, quickly turning me into a mindless zombie.

I stumbled a little farther away from them, and came face to face with a square chunk of rock jutting out of the ground. It was the first of many I suddenly noticed in the area. It reminded me of all the trails we’d hiked before. They were usually ledges cut into rocky ridges, and led to waterfalls or scenic overlooks. I climbed up on the rock to see what I could find.

Nothing but leaves. Then something.

Wisps of smoke rose between the branches of the hardwoods below. At first I assumed it was the typical fog-like evaporation of water from the trees, before realizing it hadn’t rained in days. The gentle breeze changed direction, and I remembered the fire below.

Thoroughly disgusted at the mess and my own stupidity, I was about to hop off the rock when a glint caught my eye. I slid over on the table-sized rock until I caught sight of sunlight reflecting off a vehicle.

Too many branches were in the way to be sure, but I counted at least two more flashes, heading downhill. I waited until my back hurt, and swayed from side to side to keep the pressure off my feet. Finally, I was rewarded with the distant sound of vehicles accelerating.

I hopped off the rock and hurried back to the others.

“They’ve got plenty of other people to round up,” Dad was saying when I returned. “It’s a huge park.”

Mom nodded. “I guess…like the tent camp Marisol was talking about.”

“Speaking of the others, I’d agree that we need to go check it out,” Dad said. “Our time alone is-”

I interrupted to let them know what I’d seen and heard.

“Are you sure they’ve left?” Mom said, clearly excited at the prospects of checking out our supplies.

I had to backtrack a little. “Some of them. At least three.” Dad shook his head. “I mean the view wasn’t great, but I heard ‘em too.”

“There were five,” Dad said.

“A couple could’ve left already,” Mom argued. She grew somber before adding, “Maybe with, uhm, Marisol and Dave.”

Austin was right over Mom’s shoulder, practically begging to go back. Mom still had the fire in her eyes, but Dad doused it quickly. “We’re not going back there ‘til morning.”

“How about tonight?” Austin said. “I can sneak in there after dark.”

My head was in no hurry to get back either, but my stomach had other ideas. It grumbled as if on cue while Dad squinted and took a moment to process.

“I suppose we could…carefully.”

Austin pumped his fist. “I’ll be super careful.”

“That would be a first,” Dad mumbled. “Until then, we’d better sit tight and rest up. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Like normal, he was right.

CHAPTER 20

I woke up at least a half-dozen times, and finally gave up on trying to nap for longer than five minutes at a time. The sun had dropped behind the mountain behind us, leaving us with only minutes of daylight. Maybe an hour.

My mouth was dry as August cotton, but the only thing we had to fix that was stream water. The problem was we were pretty far up the mountainside, meaning the stream would be a trickle, if there even was one. It all depended on the location of the spring, which was going to be the safest place to drink anyway.

Other than the clean water pouring right out of the rocks, I wasn’t willing to drink from anywhere else. Between the dirt and the animals and everything, it needed some purification, and we had nothing to fix that problem. We had nothing left to fix any problem.

Mom was wide awake watching over us when I sat up. She must’ve noticed the frown, or maybe the way I swished saliva in my mouth trying to make enough to swallow down the stuffy, scratchy feeling in the back of my throat.

“What’s the matter, hon?”

“You seriously didn’t bring anything when you ran?” I croaked. “No backpacks?”

“Nothing.”

Even though I accepted her answer, I said, “I don’t believe it.”

“God knows I wanted to, but…there wasn’t time.”

The others stirred. Austin may have been the most ready to go back to the church, but he was the last one up. That wasn’t surprising. As Mom would say, he could sleep through a nuclear war.

“Do we all have to go?” Maddie said, finally done with sobbing, at least for a while.

“No, sweetie,” Mom said. “You can wait here.”

I didn’t want to be split up in the dark. I was tempted to volunteer to stay with her, but I was curious enough about what was left behind that I had to go. So I turned to my sister and said, “That’s not much better. I’d come along.”

She shook her head.

“C’mon. Just come with us.”

“Leave her alone.” Mom looked at the sky. “Besides, it’s not time to go yet.”

I followed her gaze and was surprised to see a different kind of grayness leaking over the mountaintop where it had been clear moments before. I stood up and gave the sky my full attention while Mom went around rousting the others from slumber.

A cool breeze slipped over the mountaintop and ripped through the trees. Any thought of being hot disappeared. I shivered and hugged my t-shirt tight to my body, noticing the tears in the fabric from my earlier runs through the woods.

Thunder rumbled, and I shot a quick look at Maddie. She’d been following Mom around, keeping no more than an arm’s length away from her at all times. They both stopped to stare at the curtain of stormy blackness falling over the mountains.

The tops of the trees beat together with a brushing sound, sweeping loose leaves and dead twigs from the branches. The debris filled the air not unlike a miniature tornado before the first drops of rain hit.

A smack struck me on the bare arm, cold as a mountain stream. Before I could slink under the cover of one of the shorter maples, I was pelted with drops. My shirt was polka dotted in dark colors, and water streamed down my face.

I leaned my back up against the smaller tree and waved Maddie over. Mom grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the taller, lightning rod oaks over to my spot.

“This just keeps gettin’ better,” Maddie said. She hung her head and stared at the ground while the rain began to pound. Thankfully, the thunder didn’t reappear, as if it had only been announcing the rain’s arrival.

“This sucks,” Austin said, agreeing with Maddie for once. He hugged his arms tight to his skinny frame trying to ward off the chill.

I didn’t disagree with them. A cold soaking was as unwelcome as talking to my parents about girls, but I soon realized something good could come out of the rain besides a soap-free shower. I cupped my hands to try to catch some of the giant-sized drops running off the maple’s leaves, and ended up getting a little bit of moisture into my parched body.

My clothes were drenched by the time the rain stopped. My boots squished as I stood up to wring water out of my shirt, but there was nothing I could do about my jeans. Damp denim was about the most uncomfortable thing possible, especially when walking, though wet undies riding up my crack was a close second.

“Might as well move out,” Dad said once the rain quit for good. “We’ll need to move slowly anyway.”

Drops from leaves still pattered the ground, adding a multitude of sounds to the once quiet forest.

Mom checked out the sky one last time before agreeing with Dad. “Yeah, the drips will help cover our movement.”

“Now that it’s rained, maybe we’ll get some cooking fog too,” I added, grasping for any hidden bright side like a lifeline.

“As if we had something to cook, dumbass,” Austin chided, and I kicked myself for thinking positively.

None of it made Maddie feel any better anyway. I offered her a hand and pulled her up before she had time to argue about staying behind. We were better off together.

She ran a hand through her hair, and gathered up the loose strands into a crude ponytail. We waited until she squeezed out the precious drops. Gross though it was, I was sorely tempted to drink from her hair. The rain I’d collected had only served to make me thirstier.

“Let’s go,” Mom said.

She took the lead, and brought us slowly down the mountainside in a weaving, slalom pattern. It was more to avoid vegetation than rock outcroppings. Overall, the path was steep, but not littered with drop-offs that would’ve forced us far out of our way.

My jeans clung tightly to my legs. We were lucky to be going slow. The heavy fabric had the insides of my thighs chafed before we got halfway back to the church.

Mom held up a hand to stop. We gathered in the middle of dark green nowhere. The shadows had closed in until I could barely see more than twenty yards through the forest.

“Everybody alright?” Mom asked. There were nods and murmurs until she looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

“These wet jeans are killing me.” I grabbed below my crotch to pull at the fabric.

“You could take ‘em off,” Mom suggested.

“Eww,” Maddie said. She turned her head away.

I wasn’t that desperate, but it was getting close. “No way.”

“It’ll be really dark soon,” Dad said.

“Still ewww. Nobody wants to see that.”

I thought about saying Katelyn might, but thought better of it with my parents around. She probably wouldn’t either.

“He’ll have his underwear on,” Mom said, but Maddie wasn’t buying it.

She refused to turn around until I assured her that I had my pants on. They were unbuttoned, though, but that was evidently acceptable to her.

I gave them a shake to try to get some cool air down there. Mostly, I needed them to release their sandpaper grip on my inner thighs.

Any easing didn’t last for long. Mom was suddenly in a hurry to get back to the church. Maybe she thought the rain had run off the rangers, but I wasn’t convinced that it made a difference. Either way, I was too busy wincing with every footstep and walking bowlegged to worry about what we’d find when we finally got there.

Austin stopped on the trail to retie his boot and looked back at me with a chuckle.

“How you doin’, cowboy?” He tipped an imaginary hat.

“Terrible.” I grimaced and ground to a halt.

“Reckon so, pardner.” He hopped up and mimicked my stance like he was straddling a barrel. “That shore looks powerful bad.”

“Your cowboy accent sucks.”

I walked off hoping to leave him behind. I couldn’t be that lucky.

He hurried alongside to say, “Git along, little dogie.”

When he added a whip-cracking sound, I turned around to snap, “You start singing whoopee-ti-yi-yo and I’ll knock your head off.”

My icy stare wasn’t enough to back up the threat. He was all laughs at my misery, adding, “Oh, I forgot about those lyrics. Thanks.”

I pushed him away from me and stomped down the hill to catch up to Mom and Dad. Maddie was still trailing her like a lost sheep.

Mom whipped around to put a finger to her lips.

I exhaled loudly, too loudly, and kept coming. I wasn’t about to let Austin catch up.

“What’s wrong with you…besides, uhm, the obvious?” Mom gestured toward my soggy pants.

“Nothing.” I stretched my legs farther apart and groaned. “Just keep going.”

“Maybe we’ll find something for you in our stuff,” Dad said.

“If there’s anything left,” I muttered.

“Think positively, “Mom chided.

I should’ve tried harder and the rest of the hike wouldn’t have been so awful.

The air grew thicker around the church. I could tell we were getting close by the musty, charred smell of rainwater mixed with burn pit. It smelled like every time we’d ever dumped a bucket on the coals to put the campfire out for the night, only tinged with the lovely scent of garbage.

It didn’t give me much hope of finding anything useful.

CHAPTER 21

We slowed to a crawl. The air was so acrid I could hardly breathe. Through the twilight I could make out smoke covering the clearing like fog. It didn’t seem to have the energy to force its way through the cloud of humidity pressing from above. I didn’t have much energy left either.

We stopped short of the clearing. I pulled my wet shirt over my nose, and that seemed to help for a while. My eyes watered, definitely from the smoke this time, as I sat and waited for someone to make a move.

Austin’s leg was bouncing with nervous energy. He thrummed his fingers on the trunk of a tree, looking like a dog ready to get loose from a leash.

I squinted around Dad trying to get a better look at the vehicles. The lumpy outline of the Jeep was a relief, but not when Dad finally waved us forward to check it out.

Austin bounded on ahead. He stopped at our ride only for a moment before continuing on to Marisol’s truck. With a shake of the head, he put his hands on his hips and spit.

I didn’t have to get all the way to the Jeep to see that the tires had been slashed. Even the spare on the back had been jabbed with a blade.

Other than a few water jugs no one had felt like carrying, we’d already cleaned out the inside of the Jeep to bring everything inside. So it made sense why Austin hadn’t lingered long there. Still I thought I heard Mom gasp when she got up close to it.

The water jugs were all skewered too, just like the tires. There were rip marks through the seats, and the dashboard instruments were bashed in with a hard object. Probably a baton, just like Mr. Clean’s head.

I remembered Marisol had said she’d left a lot of her supplies in her truck. I hustled over to it to find the tires slashed and the tailgate hanging open. The back was cleaned out. While Austin reached for the door handle, I waited with less than hopeful anticipation. It was a longshot.

“Nothing,” he called out. “The inside’s bare.”

“Figures,” Dad said. “I’m not surprised. Either they never had what they said, or the rangers packed it all out of here.”

“It could’ve been some good stuff,” Mom said, sticking up for her captured friend. “She was the best survivalist on the forums.”

“Dave said they had tons, but maybe they didn’t need much.”

“Maybe.” Mom dabbed at the corner of her eye subtly and sniffled. “I was counting on her for her survival skills, so you could be right about them not needing a lot…not like our giant load.”

I turned to the clearing to search for the burn pile. The rain had drenched any flames, which gave me a sliver of hope that something survived. But the darkness was settling in fast, competing with the smoke for which could blind us quicker.

While Mom and Dad headed off for the church, I walked into the clearing. Figuring the rangers would’ve dumped the truck’s contents close by, I expected to stumble on it any second. Instead, I shuffled past the gravel driveway, and way out into the open area without seeing anything.

“Did they have anything worth taking?” I called through the darkness to anyone who would listen.

“Who?” Maddie said. Judging by her location, she was sitting on the front steps.

“Mr. Clean and Marisol.”

“I dunno. Why?”

“I can’t find the burn pile.”

“It’s back here,” Austin called from the rear of the church.

I left Maddie alone and followed the bulky outline of the building around back. From inside, I heard the sound of boots clumping on wooden floor boards, but no words. I figured that probably wasn’t a good sign. But I also didn’t know how they could see in there. With the night sky blacked out by fog and smoke, it was getting to the point where I truly couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.

When I couldn’t find Austin moving around, I stopped to ask, “Where you at?”

“In the cemetery.”

“Seriously?”

I felt around and followed his voice until I found him standing at the knee-high fence squinting toward the headstones.

“Looks like they shoved everything out the back door,” he said. “At least the rain put the fire out.”

I exhaled the frustration, but it seemed like more seeped back in when I took another breath. I coughed and readjusted the shirt to better cover my nose.

“How can you tell anyway?” I’d seen some dark nights, but this was like being locked in a closet. A smoky, damp closet in a house that had just burned down.

“Guessing.”

“Of course you are.”

Austin snorted. “Why not?”

I turned my back on him to feel for the rear steps to the church. “This is hopeless, huh?”

“The searching or what we’ll find?”

“Both.”

I found a step and started to climb. To my surprise, a light popped on inside.

“You’ll burn the place down, Harold.”

“Relax,” Dad said as I pulled the door the rest of the way open. “There’s a candle around here somewhere.”

He held a flaming piece of cardboard in his hand, which appeared to be the box of some dried noodles. It was probably going to be dinner once some water had been added. Instead, the fire came before the water.

Dad hurried toward the front of the church, stepping up onto the altar, while I waited numbly by the door.

“I know I saw some candles back here. Someone’s been in here before.”

“Yeah, in the cabinets with our other stuff,” Mom said cryptically. “Just hurry.” She lit another match from a booklet they must’ve found by the kitchen supplies.

Back at the altar, I watched in horror as a chunk of flaming cardboard fell onto the dry hardwood floor. Dad ignored it as he stretched for something in the corner. When a candle sprang to life, he dropped the flaming box and stomped it.

“That hurt,” he said as he danced on the box while blowing on his fingers. “Almost blistered myself pretty good.”

“Or worse,” Mom said.

“At least we have light,” I said. They wheeled around to stare at me.

“Not for long, kiddo. This isn’t staying lit.”

“Just look around quick,” Dad said. He quit blowing on his flaming fingers to set the candle on a heavy wooden table in front of the altar. Mom joined him a moment later, and they dropped to their knees to rummage through cabinets in the back of the church.

While I stood there wondering what they were looking for, Dad pulled out a small box and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“They didn’t get the gold…not that we can do much with it.”

“Someday…maybe,” Mom said.

My parents brought the candle over to the table where the kitchen supplies had been, and I finally walked over to help them.

“Whoa,” Austin uttered as he stepped into the church. “It looks like a bear ransacked the place.”

He was correct. The little burner had been smashed on the ground, the metal dented beyond repair. Our plates and bowls were made out of some type of plastic, so they’d been scattered rather than broken.

More disturbing, all the boxes of dried foods were gone. All our sealed plastic packets of noodles and rice, along with all the tuna and other various meat-like substances, had been taken. Presumably burned out back. I never would’ve thought I could miss the tasteless soy pellets, but it hurt knowing we had next to nothing left.

Mom backed away from the kitchen area. I felt the agony in the way she hung her head. Years of prepping were destroyed in a moment.

Dad rubbed her back and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it didn’t help. But she wasn’t one for showing her tears.

“Gather what you can,” Dad said.

I looked around again and still found nothing worth taking from our food supplies. I hobbled off toward the back of the church where we’d dumped our gear bags the day before to see if I could at least find something to replace my jeans.

“How about this?” Austin said, holding up a propane bottle that was useless now that the burner had been wrecked. With his other hand, he jammed a folding knife in his pocket.

“Sure,” Dad said, and I didn’t understand why at the time. “That’s a good find.”

I found the contents of my duffel bag dumped on the floor in the back of the church along with several of the other ones. Many of our clothes were missing, probably hauled to the fire. But I was happy to find a pair of khaki pants. They were the tactical type the police wear, not like Dad’s work clothes. If it had been possible, my thighs would’ve applauded. Those pants wouldn’t rub me raw, even when wet.

Dad, still holding the box of gold coins, brought Mom over so they could also rummage through what was left. I noticed that he checked for the rifle at the door. Of course, it was gone. Mom hadn’t been carrying the pistol either, so Austin’s little knife was our only remaining weapon.

While I ducked behind a pew to struggle to strip off my soaked jeans, my parents began going through the rest of the pile. They picked out a couple light jackets, a few shirts, and a pair of pants like the ones I finished pulling on. Maddie finally walked inside to join them and froze at the sight.

Panicked, she asked, “Where’s my stuff?”

“Haven’t found many keepers yet, hon.” Mom dug deeper into the pile. She pulled out a hot pink shirt, probably one of Maddie’s favorites, but cast it to the side. “Way too bright.”

“Ma!”

“You’re not wearing that thing,” Dad said. “It’s a giant target.”

“Not the lime green either,” Mom said as she picked another shirt out and pitched it. “What’s with all the bright colors?”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

Mom stopped searching to stare at her. “That’s seriously all you packed?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what I like.”

“Goodness, child.” Mom sighed exaggeratedly. “Looks like you’re sharing clothes with me.”

If it wasn’t for the rumble of a jet passing overhead, the rangers could’ve heard her wail from miles away.

CHAPTER 22

“That’s our cue to get outta here,” Dad said after the plane’s roar turned to a fading growl.

He took the clothing Mom had selected from the pile and jammed it into a duffel bag, and buried the gold coins inside it too. Unfortunately, they hadn’t left us any of the gear backpacks, which meant no first aid kits, flares, ropes, saws, or the litany of other survival stuff Mom had packed. But at least the duffel had a shoulder strap, not that it was very heavy.

“So nothing from the kitchen,” Mom said. “What about water?”

“I didn’t see any of the jugs,” I volunteered.

Dad agreed, and added, “Surely they wouldn’t burn those.”

“We’re done in here,” Mom said. “Let’s head outside.”

Austin had returned to stand over by the back door. There was no telling how long he’d been watching us work. “I tried to check the burn pile, but it was too dark.”

Dad turned to Mom and she shrugged.

“Might as well bring the candle outside,” he said. “What could it hurt?”

Everything, especially when we’d just had another flyover. But desperation seemed to make people do crazy things. And, admittedly, I was just as willing to take that risk.

We gathered up at the back door before rushing outside like patrons hurrying to get the best seats in a movie theater—not that anyone had been to a theater in months. Hollywood was as shuttered as the other businesses across the country. Dad had told me that the government had some new Ministry of Information that was paying studios to make feel-good films about how the economy was going to turn around but, of course, he’d done nothing but point out all the lies in them. And eventually we’d all quit watching.

Dad carried the candle to the edge of the fence, but it didn’t make the picture much clearer. The little flame was as lost as a firefly, but it helped draw Maddie over to us.

We were able to confirm that the rangers had dumped everything over the fence into the cemetery and set the fire on the graves. The idea was still unimaginable to me.

Austin led Dad over to the gate so they could slip inside to the pile of ash.

Black soot from the ruins of our supplies covered half the cemetery. But it wasn’t burned all the way. A half-melted plastic tub sat crookedly on the side of the burn pile where the rain must’ve helped spare a small part of it. There was another one behind it.

“Check that stuff out,” Mom said from the other side of the fence.

Dad stomped off into the soot. It was too wet for ash to fly, but it still turned the legs of his dress pants black. Ordinarily he would’ve had a fit, but the time to worry about dry cleaning was long gone.

He tentatively cracked open the first tub and pulled out a handful of plastic sacks. One split open, dumping trail mix into the bed of ash.

“How are they?” Mom called.

Dad held the candle close to the other bags. “A couple look okay. We’ve got some food.”

“Found a flashlight,” Austin said. He held it triumphantly over his head, but frowned when the once silver object refused to turn on. “Guess it’s a club now.”

“Leave it,” Mom said. “Anything else?”

Sticky molten plastic clung to Dad’s boots as he walked over to the other partially-melted tub. Inside it he found a few unharmed boxes of granola bars, and a sack of dehydrated fruit.

“The granola might be melted, but we can give it a try.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Mom said encouragingly.

Maddie doused any hopeful thoughts. “Hardly. Junk food and no water.”

“We’ll be fine, hon,” Mom said. “That’s all you ever eat anyway.” She tried to wrap an arm around my sister’s shoulders, but Maddie pushed her away.

“We’d better get going,” Dad said.

He blew out the candle when he made it back to the gate with Austin, plunging us into darkness.

I turned to go, and kicked something hard. It dented with a subdued clunk. Feeling around, I located a single water jug next to the corner of the church. It was still full.

“We’ve got water,” I said, holding it up proudly.

“No way.” Mom rushed over to check it out. “Thank God. That’s gonna come in handy.”

“They must’ve dropped that one,” Dad said. “I should’ve kept the candle lit.”

“You’ve got matches, right?” Austin said.

“Just check around quick,” Mom said. “We’re pushing our luck.”

I got down on hands and knees to crawl partway underneath the church on the off chance another had been dropped. The others searched around too, but there were no more found. Either way, it was slightly encouraging to have the one bottle.

“Let’s go,” Mom said. “We’re headed down to the highway.”

“Say what?” Austin said sharply. “Don’t you think-”

“It’s dark,” Mom argued, though it was getting the slightest bit lighter. Not from morning; that was a long time off. Mostly, the smoke was slowly dissipating. “Just be ready to jump in the bushes if we need to.”

By the time we were halfway down the driveway, away from the smoky haze from our incinerated supplies, the stars began to poke through the rain-induced fog. A mile away from there it was probably every bit as bright as the previous night.

Still, there was hardly anything to feel good about. I replayed my small victories in my mind. The new pants were great. I enjoyed the satisfying swish of loose fabric. Finding water and that little bit of food was essential. We’d all taken big drinks before we’d headed off toward the main road. But, overall, my glass was far closer to empty; there was no seeing the half full.

Maddie was obviously more of a glass half empty too—on a good day. That evening it was shattered, seemingly never to be refilled. Every time Katelyn crossed my mind, or pretty much anything back home, I was right there as low as my sister. Arguably lower.

She kicked pebbles and spent a lot of time mumbling to herself as we trekked down the driveway. Mom would glance back at her every so often, but no one knew what to say to make it better for her. I couldn’t even console myself, let alone the inconsolable.

“So where are we headed?” Austin said as we pulled up short of the paved road.

“The tent camp, right?” Mom said, questioning her own words for a change.

Dad grunted in agreement. “I hadn’t planned on heading over there so soon, but…”

“Yeah. It’s not like we have a choice. Might as well see if Spotted Fawn and the others have made it out yet, don’t you think?”

My head reeled as they talked, trying to keep up with the revelations. I had caught bits and pieces of conversations throughout the previous day, but still knew little about who else might be hiding out in the woods. Before I could ask, Dad answered Mom.

“Alright. Plan B it is. At the very least, we can warn them.”

Mom patted the cargo pocket on her pants. “Shame we lost the radios too.”

“Right, and Dave’s CB.” Dad blew out a big breath and adjusted the shoulder strap on the duffel. “It’s not your fault, babe. It’s all mine.”

“Just forget it.”

An uneasy silence took over, and it continued after Austin asked, “And how far is this camp?”

Mom hesitated. I thought it seemed like Dad fumbled for a map in his pocket, but decided against pulling it out. Finally, Mom said, “Over a couple hills and around a bend.”

“That’s what I figured. Very specific, Ma.”

She pushed off Austin’s jab with a quick, “I try.”

“We need to get across the road while it’s still dark,” Dad said, weakly attempting to change the subject.

“It’s not that late,” I said. “It’s not even past eleven, is it?”

Mom looked at Austin. “I know it’s not past your brother’s bedtime…though he is yawning.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Too much fresh air?” she asked. “It’s not three yet. Just imagine you’re home playing video games.”

Austin snorted derisively. “I wish I was. For one, the air smells like-”

“Enough!” Dad snapped. “Quit the bickering so we can get outta here.”

Silence fell again over the woods. I heard the shifting of someone’s feet on the gravel, but no one spoke another word. It was rare when Dad got mad, but we all knew to stay out of his way when he lost it. Even Austin knew better.

Dad dropped the duffel bag to pull out the map, and we stood there pretending to be patient while he held it in all sorts of crazy directions trying to get enough light on it to make out the landmarks. He ruffled the paper irritably, and sighed like a locomotive blowing off steam. Finally, after several folds, he got it situated the way he wanted it.

“Down the road a quarter-mile,” he said. “We’ll need to skirt the north side of that mountain to get to the Meigs Mountain Trail. That’ll take us over toward Elkmont.”

“That map has mileage, right?” Austin asked.

“You gonna complain about it?” Dad said sharply.

“No, sir.”

“Then it’s about four miles…once we find the trail.” He threw the duffel bag strap over his shoulder and stomped off.

As far as I was concerned, there was no point planning on being anywhere near Elkmont by morning. I was dead tired, and the others had to be too. Even if we’d had the strength, I knew from experience that most of the trails were not well marked, especially one as remote as Meigs Mountain. We’d never find it with only a sliver of moonlight. The goal was going to have to be getting far enough off the highway to sleep, and that would have to suffice.

I only wished they’d had a better suggestion, like hiking back to Gatlinburg and getting a nice room in one of those empty hotels. Then again, I knew that was totally impractical. However, it felt good to fantasize about a soft bed. Too bad I would’ve been stuck in the same bed as Austin while Maddie got a cot to herself. With Dad snoring like a bear from inches away, no one was a winner in that scenario.

We retraced my earlier steps along the paved road to the creek bridge. Though it was risky, we stayed on the road for ease of travel. The bubbling of water running in the rock-strewn river alongside the road didn’t allow us to hear very well. My body tensed at every strange noise or scuffed footstep until I’d nearly vaulted into the roadside ditch a dozen times.

Without incident, we crossed the bridge where the stream rushed down from the mountainside to join with the river on the other side. After that, Dad decided we should bail off into the woods.

“According to the map, we should be able to follow this river,” he gestured to the roadside, “to a creek we can take almost all the way to the trail.”

“Then lead on, captain,” Mom said.

He grinned as he pointed at the rocks. “There’s not much to lead. Just follow the water and the rocks.”

“And don’t get wet,” she added.

That was easier said than done.

CHAPTER 23

We had to be careful hopping off the road into the riverbed. It was a steep drop; the bank was nearly vertical in places. Austin scouted us out a way to slide off the road without crashing into the rocks. The last thing we needed was someone cracking their head open.

Austin went first, slipping and sliding, and showing us not exactly the best way to get to the bottom. But he made it safely. Dad tossed our bag of clothes to him.

I grabbed onto a tree branch to lower myself into the riverbed, and settled onto a flat rock well above the water level. Water tumbled over boulders, running shallow over wide, flat ledge rocks. But it roared and splashed around the smaller obstacles.

“The fork’s up ahead,” Dad said once he’d made it safely to the bottom to join my brother and me. “Not very far.” He stuck out a hand to take the duffel back from Austin.

Mom showed a hesitant Maddie where to grab, and I went over to help them out.

“You can do it, sis,” I said, and she shot back a look tinged more with anger than fright.

“I’ve got this,” she snapped.

I backed off to let her come down on her own, and it worked out fine. Maddie settled onto the rocks with a deep breath and surveyed the area through tired eyes.

The road was head height above us. We could walk the river for a long while and feel fairly safe from view, but making it over the rocks was a different story.

It was not simply stair climbing like going up the steep mountain streams. There were spots in the river we definitely needed to avoid. The water ran deep enough to knock us over.

Since creeks were sort of my specialty, I set out with Austin to lead us forward. We took turns scouting out the better way to cross, left or right, occasionally calling back to the others if it was shallower one way or another.

We hadn’t gone twenty paces before the water had gone over my boots twice, and I thought we’d almost lost Austin once when he’d stepped off into a hole that kept going down. I skipped over to grab his arm as he sunk to his waist.

“Whoa, I missed a step there,” he said.

“Now who peed their pants,” I replied with a grin.

“Good one.” He sloshed his way up onto a flat rock next to me. Rushing water parted around our boots before gathering back into a torrent by the drop off.

“It’s too dark for this,” I said. The water glittered in the moonlight, but not enough to be sure of depth. It was difficult judging if the ripples looked deep as the stream splashed over boulders.

Austin pulled off his boots and dumped them out. He surprised me by saying, “Thanks for the save, little bro.”

“No problem.” I turned back to the others to find they’d almost caught up to us. “Watch out over here. Maybe come this way.”

“Got it,” Mom said.

She guided Maddie out onto what looked like a harmless-looking ledge rock, but it turned out to be a different kind of mistake. The flat rocks were extra slippery, especially in shallow water.

Maddie shrieked. I watched in slow motion as her feet flew out from underneath her. She landed with a splash big enough to obscure her entire body from me. I shook off the paralysis and ran for her.

I banged my shin into a rock and ignored the pain until later. She was panic splashing, struggling to get back to her feet as the water swirled around her. The river shoved her from behind, which didn’t help getting her upright again. Mom and I each took a hand and finally dragged her up onto her butt out of the river.

The expression drowned rat came to mind, but I kept that to myself.

“This is so awesome,” she whimpered.

“Are you okay?” Mom asked. “Cuts or scrapes?”

“Hundreds.”

I went through my own accounting, and thought I might be able to rival that number if I included every little scratch on my body from my earlier charge through the bushes.

“Be serious,” Mom said. She offered a hand to pull her up.

Maddie moaned and refused the help. “Isn’t it all a little too serious?”

“You want a good laugh,” Dad said, and no one expected any jokes to come out of that guy. No one understood his financial humor, though he had been loosening up a bit the longer we were on the trip. At least as long as he wasn’t about to snap at someone.

“The boys are the comedians, Harold.” Mom looked at us. “Say something funny.”

“Something funny,” Austin deadpanned.

It was so stupid even Maddie cracked a grin. I groaned and started to walk off down the river.

“Thanks a lot. I’ll be here all week,” Austin said.

As far as I was concerned, that joke backfired. The words seeped through me like the cold water through my boots. The idea of a week I could almost handle, though I certainly felt less optimistic without our supplies. Not knowing how long this could go on was a completely different kind of cruelty.

Thankfully, no one else seemed as affected. They weren’t moving very quickly, though. Perhaps they were just trying to avoid another slipping incident, but I was ready to be away from the river. Maybe it was some kind of sixth sense I didn’t know I had.

“Let’s go,” I grumbled and stood impatiently on a rock, feeling it lean like a seesaw as I shifted my weight.

Maddie was stumbling along the side of the creek, her wet clothes clinging to her. The way the temperature dropped, especially in the upper altitudes, I expected her to start shivering. I was feeling a little quivering myself.

To stay warm, it was best to keep moving. Mom had other ideas.

“Harold, you want to give your daughter some dry clothes?”

“Is she gonna go swimming again?” he said, and I had to stifle a chuckle.

“Dad!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was,” Austin said, too loudly.

Mom glared at him before turning back to Dad. “Well?”

“I’m fine,” Maddie interjected. “I’ll change later.” She sighed and stared at the heavens. “This can’t get any worse.”

I knew better than to think that. Fortunately, we ended up being close to the fork with the stream running up to the Meigs Mountain Trail. The unfortunate part was the word up.

We made it the rest of the way down the river without anything eventful plaguing us. But I was tired before we even attempted the climb. We stopped to regroup at the side of the rushing water where the boulders piled up against the forest.

It was dark, cold, and loud. The raging current of the river was joined by the smacking, rolling sound of water tumbling off the mountain toward it.

“It’s quite a racket,” Mom said, raising her voice.

“Yeah, it is,” I said, but no one seemed to hear me.

“No point standing around, is there?” Dad asked.

“Just trying to catch our breath, Harold.”

Before anyone could reply, a yellow light brighter than a spotlight poked into the tops of the trees across the road from us. It slowly spun our direction, growing brighter. The beams, now two, flattened out to eye level.

“Hide!” Mom shouted.

CHAPTER 24

“Get in the woods!” Dad shouted, but we didn’t need the command. I stomped through the shallows to dive behind the nearest thick tree. I wedged my back tight against the trunk and watched as the woods brightened.

The sound of tires droning on the asphalt grew exponentially louder along with my heart beats.

“Don’t see us,” I repeated over and over through clenched teeth, and kept my head buried in my lap to keep from having my eyeballs cast some weird telltale reflection like a deer along the side of the road.

There was no sign of the vehicle slowing. It hummed by, and I chanced a look once I was sure it was clear.

Brake lights popped on. I froze, cursing my stupid impatience.

Fortunately, the truck kept going. It had just been slowing for the narrow bridge. I heard the throaty rumble of the pick-up truck as the driver mashed the gas pedal again. In seconds, the taillights blinked out of view over a hump in the road.

“Everybody alright?” Mom called from the dark.

I blinked, no longer able to see in the woods until my eyes readjusted to the starlight.

“Over here,” I said, and Austin muttered something from next to me.

Dad walked back out into the stream. “Where’s Maddie?”

“With me,” Mom replied. “I’ve got her.”

“The big baby,” Austin mumbled. He hurried past me like he was trying to beat me back to the creek. I wasn’t in that big of a hurry, purposefully slowing to amble my way out to the others.

“We won’t have to worry about trucks for a while,” Dad said. He pointed up the streambed away from the road. “We’re taking the stairs.”

“An elevator would be nicer,” Mom said, obviously joking.

“Or the escalator, like the mall.” Maddie added softly.

“Of course you’d say that,” Austin said, which was a cheap shot considering that none of us had been to the mall in ages. The closest one to us had closed the year before, and I doubted any of the others were open either. It had been Joe or someone else at school who had said they’d turned one into a homeless shelter. From what I’d heard about the state of the country, that didn’t sound big enough. Then again, I couldn’t help but wonder if the prisons were equally as overcrowded, or worse.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’re not going very far.” Mom took Maddie by the wrist and helped her climb over a fallen log blocking our path.

“We get far enough away from this road,” Dad said, “and I’m perfectly happy finding a spot to stay the night.”

“Anywhere in particular?” Mom said, though she’d be the better one to make that determination.

“Not really, unless you know of a king-sized bed.”

Though I didn’t find it particularly funny, Mom laughed. “Oh, Harold, if there was one out here, the mice would make it their home.”

If she was making fun of his lack of outdoor skills, he didn’t notice. Without a doubt, the guy was great with a map. He could read them upside down—and apparently in the dark. But whenever Mom had talked about book smarts versus street smarts, it was obvious which one had been blessed with which skill.

“You know, that’s one thing about this park…there’s very little trash out here. They’ve kept it clean.” Dad stopped to look around, but there was nothing that looked any different than anywhere else. He probably just needed a break. We all did.

“I’d say that’s about the only good thing they’ve done,” Mom replied softly.

“Well, that’s the hallmark of a classic dictatorship,” he scoffed. “Everything so nice and neatly ordered.”

That statement confused me to the point that I had to ask, “What about all the trash around home? You know, the crap streets and full garbage cans? The bad tasting water.”

“Ah, good observation,” Dad said. “There’s a reason why it’s clean out here, but failing back there.”

“Not many people?” Austin suggested. “There’s no one out here to mess it up?”

“Yes and no,” Dad replied. “I’d postulate that the government does that on purpose, so they can step in and magically fix all our problems. They create the mess, then clamp down on the law and order angle to clean up something that never needed to happen in the first place.”

I’d never thought of it that way. The whole concept sickened me, and I stated as much.

“That’s how the propaganda machine works…and how they grab more power. Anyway…” Dad looked to Mom for confirmation before saying, “We should get going.”

“Just a little farther,” she encouraged, and took Maddie by the wrist.

We made it another hundred yards off the road before muttered curses started to join with the heavy breathing. It wasn’t the most rigorous trail I’d climbed by far, but even a walk around the block back home would’ve been strenuous by that point.

“We can stop, Harold,” Mom said, though she didn’t sound nearly as breathless as the rest of us.

Even Austin was laboring, though I supposed all the time on the couch working out his fingers on video games wasn’t the type of exercise the President’s Council on Fitness was all about. I’d found it humorous how getting up and moving around was supposed to be a cure for all the nation’s troubles. Rather than get my mind off problems, all I’d learned on a walk around the neighborhood was more and more houses were being foreclosed on, and the sidewalks were so cracked it’d been a hazard.

Despite all that, I would have given anything to walk home with Katelyn one more time.

As we settled into a quiet spot in the woods to rest for the night, my thoughts turned to her. I imagined horsing around with her in a creek like the one babbling next to me. Maybe splashing her with the icy water to hear her shriek.

We would climb on a log, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. I’d be tempted to bounce the log just to scare her a little, but would think better of it. Instead, we’d hold hands and sit suspended over a creek watching the water tumble downhill toward the road. It would be so peaceful. Romantic, too. I might even work up the urge to make a move, and finally get that kiss that I’d craved on her couch only a short day before.

In my mind, I drew out the whole scenario. Sitting on the log out over the rolling water, I’d tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. She’d smile demurely, rounding out her perfect cheekbones. With my heart pounding so loud she could hear it, I’d lean in. I’d trace her jawline with my hand, and our lips would finally meet.

And then she’d fall off the log.

I shot upright, panicked. Thankfully, I didn’t shout her name or the rest of my family really would’ve thought I’d lost my mind.

It was still dark. So dark. The water gurgled next to us, and I tried to use that to calm myself back down, but all I could see was waterfalls. Not the kind of waterfalls to play in and enjoy the spray. The one that became Niagara Falls, and we were headed over the top in a barrel. A barrel filled with MREs for padding.

“Stop it,” I whispered to myself. “We’ll get out of this…somehow. It’s gonna work out. It has to.”

I couldn’t live out there, not endlessly. Besides what was bordering on obsession with Katelyn, I had Joe and a few other friends, things to do, a whole life back in the city. We might have been twenty or thirty miles from home, but it was a world of difference. A world I wasn’t ready for, no matter how much I remained in denial about the state of our country—or rather police state.

I looked over at the others. The dark lump that was Mom was stretched out under a pine tree. Dad was close by. I could hear more than see him. Like the last residents of this forest a century ago, he was sawing logs. Nearly as loudly too.

Maddie was close to Mom, opposite Dad. As I sat and watched, she stirred in her sleep and moaned. Then a heavy sigh. She couldn’t have sounded less comfortable. Before too many visions of my baby sister whimpering for Momma or Dada came to mind, I turned to find Austin. It was easier said than done.

Eventually, I gave up. Austin would be close by, but leave it to him to be off on his own somewhere. Not surprising. And I really didn’t mind.

I got far less sleep than necessary. As the night dragged on, I must’ve woken every hour to a strange sound, or sometimes nothing at all. It was always that way when I camped. Sleep was an impossibility for me on the first night; the next I was too exhausted for anything to wake me. Not that I was really camping as much as hiding in the woods.

“Better luck tomorrow,” I muttered, and considered getting up to look around. But there was nowhere to go, and I couldn’t risk getting separated. I could’ve walked farther up the stream, but it was pointless only to come back and do it all over again in the morning. If I had ventured anywhere else, I probably would’ve gotten hopelessly lost in the forest. So I laid my head down on an arm and prayed for sleep to last.

I finally dozed off somewhere around daybreak. When my eyes reopened, the woods were shadowy gray. It would still be a while before the sun was high enough to cast shadows—or bake us. Nevertheless, it was still warm for early morning.

My eyes felt crusted over, much like my mood. Scrubbing at them failed to remove the junk in the corners. So I ended up pulling on my wet boots and walked to the creek to splash my face. I stooped over at the side of the stream and searched out the clearest looking pool. Cupping my hands, I buried my face in the cold water and recoiled with a sharp intake of air. That woke me up. Like swimming in October, it was almost too refreshing.

I stumbled away from the creek, happy to have my eyes cleared—until I caught sight of a black shadow moving toward me.

CHAPTER 25

“Bear,” I said weakly at first.

It was not a young one. The heavy black mass moved through the trees on all fours, looking as big as a Volkswagen Beetle. I held my ground, knowing it was better to stand than run.

I found my voice. “Mom! Dad!”

Still no reply.

The black bear looked up and locked eyes with me. It was on the opposite side of the stream, but quickly closing the distance. Bear attacks weren’t something I usually worried about since the animals were somewhat domesticated in the park. But knowing the rest of my family was sleeping, there was unpredictability. Sudden movements or panic could encourage the beast to attack.

“Mom!” I yelled even louder. The bear stopped again to stare at me.

“Yeah, hon?” she replied. A disheveled head of hair appeared above the bushes lining the creek.

“Bear.” I continued the staring contest. “A big one.”

She disappeared below the brush. “Harold, wake up.”

He mumbled something while I watched the bear pad its way on all fours to the edge of the creek. My feet told me to run, but my mind kept a tighter grip over my nerves. I’d never been afraid of bears, but hadn’t been quite this close before. I’d seen several along the roads of the park, even gotten out of the Jeep to get within twenty yards. But they were usually young and less imposing.

Muscles rippled through its shiny black coat. The bear pulled at some sort of vegetation along the stream bank with giant claws and shoved its toothy maw into the dirt.

I stood still and debated whether I should be waving my hands and making more noise to try to frighten it away. Instead, I was fascinated watching the claws work over the vegetation, raking through the brush with ease.

It straightened up suddenly as Mom and Dad appeared off to my right.

“Easy big fella,” I said to our visitor, and kept talking in low tones the way I would talk to a growling dog. Tempted as I was, I wasn’t about to pet it.

Dad gasped when the bear moved toward me, but I didn’t back away. My parents added their voices to mine, slowing its progress. The bear got so close I could nearly feel its breath on me. A gust from its nose would’ve blown me over. I swear I felt the fur brush against my pants as it abruptly turned.

I cringed at the sound of Austin’s voice. “Whoa, cool!”

He popped up from somewhere out of the woods behind me, and stomped through the brush toward me. The bear watched him closely; his big body shuddering with every one of Austin’s pounding footsteps.

Abruptly, the bear turned and bounded several yards downstream. I couldn’t blame it for running from my brother. I’d been tempted to do that many times too.

We stood as a family, minus one, and watched as the creature finally stopped along the side of the creek below to drink before sauntering off toward the road.

Maddie raised her head. “Whatcha doing over there?”

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Things could’ve gotten wilder than her morning bedhead if she’d woken up when the bear was staring me down.

“Nothing, sweetie,” Mom said. She walked from the creek over to our meager supplies and laid out granola packets, dehydrated fruit and the water jug. “Let’s eat up.”

“You guys are gonna need your strength,” Dad said at first; then he must’ve thought better of it. “It won’t be too tough of a walk today, but you know…”

We let it drop. Everyone knew hiking wasn’t going to be impossible, though my wet socks and squirrel food for breakfast made it no picnic. We’d hiked a lot of the trails before, some of us more than others. It was more the backdrop of man versus world, not simply nature, which made the real challenge.

Granola crunched and faces were splashed with water as we went through the motions. There were no clothes to change into, so the morning routine was even quicker than normal. Mom seemed eager to leave anyway. She paced around the woods, obviously trying to hold back from getting after Maddie about being slow. It didn’t last indefinitely.

“Are we finally ready?” she said, seemingly directing her comments at my sister. I’d found myself a log to sit on while Maddie grumbled about the length of the hike.

“Is it really four more miles?” she said as she tied and retied her boot laces.

“Could be four point one, but that’s once we finally hit the trail,” Dad said, and Mom shot him a dirty look.

“You’ve done that much before,” Mom said. “It’s no biggie.”

“Actually,” Dad said, looking at the map, “I think it could be a lot shorter than that. There’s a couple of old campsites marked on here…this side of Elkmont.” He looked up at Mom. “Any idea if they’re in Nineteen or Twenty?”

She walked over. “Which is closer to Elkmont?”

“Twenty. But it’s still a good ways off the hard road.” He pointed to the map. “They’d have to go up the Jake’s Creek Trail to get to Meigs Mountain.”

Mom nodded approvingly. “That’d take maybe two miles off our trip. Even more if they’re at Nineteen.”

I was mildly interested, but not enough to go check it out for myself. In some ways, it was better not knowing.

Since everyone else was still goofing around getting ready, I pulled off my boots to wring more creek water out of my socks. My feet were a sickly pale, and wrinkly as raisins. I made a mental note to air out my feet as soon as we got where we were going, and to take off my boots again that night. Longer, if possible.

Dad repacked our supplies into the duffel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.

“Up the hill we go,” he said, somewhat encouragingly.

He strode off for the stream, not waiting to see if we would follow. It was a safe assumption. No one was going to stay behind.

We ended up choosing our own paths initially. The stream was wider where we started, so it was no challenge to pick out one of several different ways to climb like rocky stairs. I kept myself firmly in the middle of the pack. Dad led the way with Austin while Mom and Maddie brought up the rear.

The water flow slowed to a trickle the farther we climbed, and the rocks narrowed up to little wider than an arm’s length. There were more fallen trees and other barricades higher up, which dramatically slowed our pace. By mid-morning, we reached what seemed like the start of the water. The sun beat down mercilessly. Though it was cooler at the higher elevation, my shirt was soaked almost as thoroughly as my socks.

“Let’s take a break,” Dad offered. His cheeks were red.

Maddie slumped onto a fallen log and started to pull her boots off. Before I could follow her lead, she jumped up shrieking. “Ants!”

She pointed frantically at the log and scurried away like they were poisonous.

“Dude, it’s just-”

“Stop,” Mom interrupted Austin.

I sidled over to the end of the log—not scared of the ants, but not wanting them crawling all over me either. “It’s fine over here.”

Maddie shook her head. “No way.” She examined the ground underneath her feet before plopping down on the dirt.

“Take a drink, everyone,” Dad said, doing his usual ‘ignore the problem’ routine.

He handed Mom the water jug, and she took a prolonged drink. By the time it made it to me, there was only a little liquid left swishing in the bottom.

“Finish it,” Mom said. “We’ve all had our share.”

I nodded and downed it in one gulp.

“Guess we’re drinking stream water now,” Dad said.

Mom took the jug back from me. “We’re close to the source. It’s as clean as it’s gonna get.”

She took off for the stream by herself, and must’ve searched around until she found whatever she deemed was the best spot to refill the jug. When she returned a while later, the rest of us were ready for a nap. I was pretty sure Maddie and Austin were already out, and my eyelids were heavy as a tarp from staying up practically all night.

“Time to go, sleepyheads,” she bellowed, dragging me back to reality.

Austin groaned from somewhere off in the depths of the woods. He sounded as old and cranky as Dad, who turned out to be the first on his feet.

I looked down and cursed myself for not taking off my boots. So much for airing out my soggy feet. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find my feet were permanently wrinkled, but there was no time to dwell on that.

“Where to, Harold?”

Dad pulled the map from his pocket. He turned his head to the sky, apparently using the sun’s position to help him orient the map. If we’d had a compass, it was melted in the pile by the church.

“We’ll stay below the mountaintop in this gap between Meigs,” he pointed to our right at the towering ridgeline, “and the Lumber Ridge range.”

I was relieved we didn’t have to scale the side of Meigs. While it wasn’t anywhere close to clinging to rocks by toe and fingertip, it still would’ve been a tough, but walkable, incline that would’ve burned me out in no time. Fighting our way through the gap toward the trail was going to be plenty difficult.

As if that wasn’t enough, a rumble rose from the valley below us. I turned downstream toward the road reflexively even though it was at least a couple of miles behind.

The rumble grew and came on fast, higher-pitched and much louder than a truck. Seconds later, a pair of swept-wing jets zipped through the sky. The engines roared, but no sonic boom followed. It seemed at first to be a close, unconcerned cruise for them.

The bomb blasts shaking the mountain seconds later were plenty concerning to me.

CHAPTER 26

“Where was that?” Maddie said. Her eyes darted around, though the explosions were clearly not anywhere near our location.

“It’s not that close, hon.” Mom didn’t know I caught her casting a sidelong glance at Dad, letting me know she wasn’t telling the whole story.

When Dad led us off in the direction of the explosions, I thought I had it figured it out. Though unsure how far those kinds of sounds might travel in the woods, I had a feeling the camp might not be in one piece when we arrived.

 I kept watching my parents’ faces, seeing if I could pick up on any clues, but they were stoic. Mom left Maddie behind with us so she could help Dad guide, and they seemed to keep their eyes on the horizon more than ever.

All I knew was that we were looking for a trail, but didn’t really have any idea what to expect. On previous trips, we’d hiked some trails that had been paved at one point but deteriorated to broken asphalt. They had been generally narrow, but easily identified. Others had been grassy or dirt but obvious in their size, with trees set back far enough that a truck could’ve driven through.

I expected a smaller kind of path, with leaves pushed aside to reveal bare dirt in a thin row, like the way cows always seemed to follow the same goat path to get to a trough. We were the goats, hoofing it over a rocky, mountainous terrain.

It was sometime after noon when we stopped again, and Mom didn’t bother to offer up food this time.

“Take a quick drink,” she said.

“Everyone doing okay?” Dad asked. He was panting in the early summer humidity. After all, the Smokies were a rainforest, as unlikely as it seemed. But the dark vine-covered woods, abundant plants, and ever-present clouds confirmed it.

“We’re fine, Pops,” Austin answered. I would’ve expected him to be the first to sit—after Maddie, of course. Instead, he paced around the little clearing as if looking for something.

I was looking for a stream, but there was none to be found. We were far enough away from the babbling, rock-strewn streambed that the only things remotely close to a water source were little pools that gathered in the lowest points of the valley. There was no way I was drinking that.

Mom passed me the water jug. “Gotta keep hydrated,” she said.

“I will.” But when I looked at how we’d already sucked down half the gallon, I wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case.

“Let’s keep moving,” Mom said once I handed the jug back to her. She passed it off to Dad, who slipped it into the clothes duffel, which was also partially filled with food. Food that could try, and probably fail, at easing the grumbling in my stomach.

“We should stumble across the trail soon,” Dad said, and I almost called him out on the way he said stumble.

“It’s a wide path,” Mom said. “Used to be an old logging road, so I expect it’ll be plenty obvious.”

“Let’s hope,” I muttered. “Soon.”

Planting one boot in front of the other, I pushed aside another low-hanging tree limb and passed it back to Maddie. She nodded appreciatively, but didn’t appear to have the energy to speak. That hadn’t stopped her from taking a giant share of the water earlier.

My boots felt like concrete blocks. We were fortunate the terrain had flattened out into a valley of sorts, though it was still a rough path. Any more climbing and I might’ve been just as done as Maddie.

She limped behind us, and I found myself slowing to stay even with her.

“You okay?” I asked once Austin moved on ahead.

She scowled. “Peachy.”

“How’s your feet?”

“Blistered.” She paused to suck in a big breath. “This is brutal.”

I tried to be supportive, but it wasn’t easy seeing how I had nothing to offer. “You’re doing fine. My feet are killing me too.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I would’ve thought she could’ve seen how I was struggling too. “You hear that squishing sound?” She nodded, so I continued. “That would be the sound of pickled feet and blisters. I need to get these boots off so bad.”

“We will, won’t we?”

“What’s that? Get our boots off?”

“Find the trail.”

“I think so, sis.” I looked ahead at our parents slipping through the trees, thankful we still had them in sight. They were on a mission, and apparently not about to slow down or even bother to check on us. “It’s gotta be close.”

Mom confirmed that a minute later. She waved excitedly, and stood at the edge of a slender clearing in the woods.

“Here it is!”

Maddie and I didn’t exactly run on ahead to catch up to them. The path was everything I expected when I finally got a good look. It was grassy and wide, big enough to drive on. I turned to Dad with a question.

“The campsites are on this trail?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Nineteen’s about a mile from here.”

“Don’t you, uhm, think that’s kind of a terrible place to hide?”

Mom knew what I was getting at. “Yeah, it’s maybe kinda foolish.” She ran a hand through her hair. “They probably should’ve gone somewhere else instead of using a site already on the map.”

“Not just that.” I gestured at what was basically a grass-covered roadway cutting through the woods. “You could drive a truck through here.”

“They used to,” Dad said. “It’s an old logging road from the early nineteen hundreds.”

“Great,” Austin muttered loud enough for everyone to hear him. “We wasted half the day walking over here for nothing.”

Mom waved for us to start walking. As she led us down the path, she said, “Not necessarily. It’s a huge park. The camp’s probably fine.”

Just like the church, I thought. Only it hadn’t gotten bombed like the jets had maybe done to the camp. Austin might have been right about it being a wasted trip, but it didn’t bother me to go find out. My feet and my back weren’t happy about the hike, but my mind needed something to do other than cower in the woods behind the church.

Mom set a fast pace. She seemed to have boundless energy, though her face told a different story. Sweat ran in rivulets from her brow until it seemed like a person couldn’t drink enough water to make up for it.

The sun was fully overhead, and we suffered because of the openness of the path. It was almost enough to make me wish we were back slogging our way through the forest, but the scratches on my arms reminded me otherwise. They stung from my perspiration.

“Not much farther,” Dad said.

“Thank God,” Maddie whispered.

I tried to smile encouragingly, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Even as tired as we were, it didn’t take very long to make it a mile. By the time the sun finished burning my nose, we were rounding a gentle curve in the path toward Campsite Nineteen.

Mom hurriedly directed us to the side of the path as a clearing bowed out ahead on a patch of flat ground. Though it looked empty, she waved us up against the trees bordering the old logging road and crouched in the shadows. It felt amazing to get out of the sun.

A gentle breeze rolled through the woods, adding some natural air conditioning to the sauna. My shirt was stuck to my back, but the air felt cool on the wetness. Before I could enjoy that too long, Mom was working on a plan.

“I’m gonna go on ahead to scout it out,” she said. “Y’all wait here and keep down.”

Austin started to object. “I didn’t see anything-”

“The camp goes back into the woods. The tent sites are back in the trees,” Mom said sharply. “You didn’t think they’d be that out in the open, did ya?”

“Burn,” Maddie taunted our brother.

Austin shot her a nasty look, but surprisingly kept his mouth shut. Maddie would probably pay for that comment later, but I enjoyed it.

Dad was about to protest, but Mom shushed him too. “I’ll be right back, Harold. Just sit tight, okay?”

He bobbed his head obediently and turned to us. “Let’s get comfy. Knowing you mother, this could be a while.”

I didn’t wait for permission to pull my boots off. My soft, squishy feet were enjoying the cool breeze before Mom slipped out of sight. Rather than follow the trail, she took off through the woods. She slithered like a rattlesnake toward the camp, which had obviously not been bombed out by the jet.

“This is fun, huh?” Austin said to no one in particular.

“You’re just mad ‘cause Mom-”

Dad interrupted Maddie. “Enough, children. Save your energy.”

“Whatever.” Austin stood up and paced behind the three of us. “I’m going to catch up with her.”

Before Dad could object, he took off through the woods. I felt better that Mom had someone with her, and not having Austin around was an added bonus. Maybe Dad was thinking the same thing, not that I was going to ask him.

I couldn’t ask. Dad was curled up by a tree sawing logs a second later.

“He’s so loud,” Maddie said with a frown.

“Yeah, good thing there’s no one around to hear him.”

“Sounds like a bear.”

She wasn’t far off with the suggestion, but I added, “More like Sasquatch.”

“Yeah, that’s it…Dad-squatch.” Maddie chuckled. It was her first smile in ages.

The comparison was ridiculous. Our Dad had never allowed himself more than a hint of facial hair, let alone a winter coat. Nevertheless, I imagined him plodding through the hills, stealing beef jerky from unsuspecting campers. The visual was a nice respite from the drudgery of the morning.

“Do you think there really is a Big Foot?” Maddie asked.

“No way,” I replied without giving it any thought.

“Why not?”

“Because people have all these game cameras out in the woods taking pictures of deer and turkeys and whatevs, and no one ever gets a Big Foot picture.”

“There’ve been pictures. I’ve seen ‘em on TV.”

That took me by surprise. Although Maddie watched a lot of terrible television shows, I didn’t think she’d shown any interest in the ones with people looking for Sasquatch. Not that they’d ever really found him. The pictures were all grainy and probably Photoshopped.

“I mean, maybe,” I admitted, but mostly to keep from arguing with her. “There could be some kinda creature. I just figure it’s some kind of mountain man.”

She wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled them up against her chest tightly. “I hope we don’t run across one of them.”

“Gotta be better than the Feds, sis.”

A reply stuck unspoken in Maddie’s mouth. A rustle in the brush off to our side seized my attention. It grew increasingly louder, much bigger than a simple squirrel.

I sat rooted to the ground as a dark shape burst into our resting place.

Our brotherly Big Foot said, “Wake up, losers. I can’t find Mom.”

CHAPTER 27

“Dude, you scared the crap out of us.” Maddie said.

“Speak for yourself,” I told her even though it was a lie.

Austin ignored us to go shove on the Dad-squatch. “Pops, wake up!”

“Wh-what?” he said all blurry eyed like he’d stared at his computer for far too long.

“Mom’s gone,” Austin said. It wasn’t frantic, but there was a surprising hint of concern in his voice. “I looked all over the camp, but…”

Dad sprang upright. “You kidding me?”

“Not about this.”

Dad looked over at Maddie and me, and swallowed with an exaggerated cartoon gulp. “We’d better go check it out.”

I yanked my socks and boots on and climbed to my feet ready, but apprehensive, and offered a hand to pull Maddie up.

“The camp’s deserted,” Austin said as he jumped out into the middle of the logging road. He led us fifty yards down the trail to the wide place in the woods.

The clearing showed no immediate signs of previous inhabitants. Nothing but long grass covered a space maybe as big as the dirt area at my old t-ball field. Off to the left, the forest’s understory was cleared out like it’d been grazed by cattle. Tall trees held up a leafy roof over open woods.

A few wooden picnic tables were scattered among the tree trunks, indicating places where campers would have pitched their tents after a hard day hiking the trail. But Mom was nowhere to be seen.

I spotted a small, rickety wooden building well off to the side, about halfway back into the campsite.

“You check that out?” I asked Austin.

“The toilets?”

I nodded, convinced no stone should go unturned. Austin was less than convinced.

“No…gross.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Dad said. “Probably hasn’t been used in a while.”

I doubted that, but Maddie spoke first.

“It’s still a smelly pit toilet,” she said. “Mom wouldn’t be in there.”

She might have been right. As tough as Mom was, she wasn’t a fan of using shabbily-covered crap holes dug into the ground, just like the rest of us. Hold your nose and hover was my usual technique, along with taking as little time as possible.

But we had to look somewhere. “We should still check it out,” I said.

“Fine,” Austin agreed. Dad ended up being the one to go for a look. “Tell us what you find, Pops.”

“Babies,” Dad shot back over his shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

We followed him across the campsite. I noted there definitely were clues that people had been there. Probably recently. Bits of papery trash were strewn about, and grass was matted next to the picnic tables where tents had been placed. Blackened coals were still evident in the fire pits. It was hard to say how long, but I was sure at least a couple groups of campers had been there within the last week or two. That was enough to set me on edge, but not enough to convince me to check the crapper.

The door banged shut on the outhouse, and Dad re-emerged. “No one in there.”

He picked the duffel bag off the ground and hoisted it over his shoulder. I reminded myself to thank him for not bringing our food inside.

“And…” Austin asked, leading.

“It’s got a bit of an odor,” Dad said. “I wouldn’t hide in there either.”

“Obviously,” Maddie agreed.

“Who said she’s hiding?” I said, picking up on the odd way Dad mentioned that. He surely didn’t mean it that way. Knowing Mom, she was probably off scouting around, though it was strange she hadn’t come back to get the rest of us first.

We walked away from the outhouse without anyone taking charge. We just knew better than to stand too close to it, especially if the wind changed direction.

Austin froze and pointed to the woods. I followed his finger to a dark shape slipping between the trees beyond the farthest campsite.

“Mom?” Maddie called, and I wanted to clamp a hand over her mouth.

“Shut up,” Austin hissed. He slunk to the nearest picnic table to somehow try to hide behind it. He couldn’t have been any more obvious.

“Seriously, dude?” I said, and quickly turned away from him to glue my eyes on the woods.

The shape materialized into a woman of average height and athletic build. Not imposing, but our mother obviously bore no resemblance to Big Foot.

“What are you guys doing here?” she said, while holding something in the front of her shirt, which she pulled up to look like a kangaroo’s pouch.

Rather than spread his arms wide for a hug, Dad kept his shoulder turned toward her, hands on hips. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I was looking for a water spigot. Don’t they sometimes have those back in the woods?”

“Not at the remote sites,” Dad replied, softening his tone. “You’re totally on your own out here.”

“Other than the crapper,” Austin added with a grin.

“Well…yeah.” Dad turned back to Mom and gestured toward her turned-up shirt. “So, nothing too exciting?”

“I found some berries.” She stopped at Austin’s hiding spot to deposit a pile of blackberries on the table. “They’re not quite ripe, but better than nothing.”

“That’s all?” Maddie complained. “I hate the seeds.”

“Sucks to be you.” Austin pushed her out of the way to grab a handful. “More for us.”

“Kids, there’s plenty to go around.” Mom popped one in her mouth, and offered a couple to Maddie despite her whining. “Trust me, the thorns are way worse than a few seeds.”

She took them reluctantly. “I just hate when they get stuck in your teeth.”

I was with her on that, but I would’ve suffered through worse for something other than granola or dried fruit. Though it was nerve-wracking wondering about where Mom had been, I couldn’t blame her for detouring to pick the berries. Even though they tasted sour, I was glad she’d found enough for all of us, as was my stomach.

“There’s plenty more back there,” Mom said, gesturing to the woods. “I was gonna get you guys to help, but figured you could use a little rest.”

Through a mouthful of berries, Dad mumbled, “Thanks.”

“No water though,” Mom said as she got in Dad’s duffel bag to pass around the jug. “Looks like this is all there is until we find a stream.”

“Or the other group,” Dad added.

“Right, Harold.” She beamed at him, and popped the last of the berries in her mouth.

I swished the water through my teeth to dislodge a few of the pesky seeds, though I imagined several were still stuck tight.

“A little over a mile to go,” Dad said as he unfolded the map. “It looks like Twenty is kinda close to a stream.” He pointed to the blue line to the east of the campsite.

“Then finish it,” Mom said to Austin, who tipped the jug back and swallowed the rest. “It’s less weight to carry.”

He harrumphed and handed the empty jug back to Dad. With one final look around, we trudged back to the trail at the entry to the campsite and headed off to the north.

The mountain ridge paralleled us from up high, not that we needed to use it for a reference. But it was still reassuring to know we were headed relatively flat through the valley. Or so I thought.

Several hundred yards past Nineteen, the trail started into a sharp incline. Sweat poured off me again before we’d gone very far, and I could hear the labored breathing of our whole family—except for maybe Mom.

“It’s like we’re climbing the mountain,” Austin complained.

“We kinda are,” Dad explained, as he gestured toward the top of the hill. “We’ll hit the cutoff for the Curry Mountain Trail up top. At least it’s almost all downhill to Twenty after that.”

“You didn’t…mention that…before,” Maddie said between gasps for air.

“It’s not far, hon,” Mom said. I noticed even her strides were becoming shorter.

It was definitely harder than the first part of the trail. I preferred the earlier stair-climbing of the rocky stream to the grassy incline with the sun beating down. But I had no choice in the matter. So I tried to block out the sounds around, even though it probably wasn’t the safest thing to do.

I transformed into a hiking robot. I took deep breaths and short steps and spent most of my time staring at the ground rather than the hill up ahead. It worked.

Dad came to a stop in the path and pointed off to the left at a wooden sign no bigger than a mailbox. “There’s the Curry Mountain Trail.”

“Yep, that’s what the sign says,” Austin replied, drawing a sharp look from Mom.

 “We keep going on Meigs?” Maddie asked. She dropped to her knees while the rest of us hunched over but remained standing.

“Yeah, downhill,” Mom said. She walked on ahead of us to where the trail started to sharply descend. “This would be an awesome ski run.”

“I wish,” I said. The idea of getting on a snowboard, or even a sled, sounded great. A little cold winter air sounded even better at the moment, although I knew if we were still out there come wintertime, snowy fun wouldn’t be the first thing on the agenda.

With barely a change of clothes, and summer clothes at that, I didn‘t see how we could spend more than a few months in the woods. I’d freeze during those cool October nights, if I could even make it that long.

I wasn’t one to worry about having the latest fashions, but it was hard coming to grips with the idea that all my heavier clothes were back at the house—and there would be nowhere to go shopping. Mom hadn’t said anything about packing long sleeves and hoodies, and she sure couldn’t knit us a new pair.

“I don’t have any clothes to stay the winter,” I blurted out.

“I know.” Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “None of us do anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“I said to pack everything you had. That meant winter clothes too.”

“Seriously? That’s not what I heard.” I looked at Austin and Maddie. She shrugged, looking as confused as ever.

My smart-alecky brother gave me his usual reply. “Well, duh.” He laughed under his breath. “You should’ve known this wasn’t a picnic.”

“She said vacation,” I fired back, and looked at Mom.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “We didn’t want to worry you, but…”

“It was wrong of us,” Dad said. “I’m very sorry.”

“Sorry?” I replied, but managed to choke back any further accusations.

A downcast Mom continued to explain, which was nice for a change. “Obviously we hoped it wouldn’t come to this, hon. We felt like there was a chance it wouldn’t end up dragging on too long out here. We wanted it to be a false alarm, so badly…”

“Or least be able to get back home sooner.” Dad looked to the sky before settling his eyes on mine. “I guess deep down we knew better.”

“Apparently,” I said, and surprised myself to find I’d moved over closer to Maddie, leaving a wide gap between us and our parents. “You guys wanted to plant a garden.”

“It would’ve been done by the first frost,” Mom said. “That’s still not winter.”

“That’s not important,” Dad interjected. “What it boils down to is, the visits from the Feds, the roadblocks, and all that was nothing new. But martial law, travel permits, the killing of peaceful protestors…that was the last straw for me. We had to take what little freedom we had left and do something.”

“Run away?” I said.

“Not exactly,” Dad replied.

“It’s more like a tactical retreat,” Mom added. “Regrouping, and doing what we can.”

I wiped the sweat from the brow as I tried to digest their words. Something important still appeared to be missing.

“So regrouping is hiding behind the church, and maybe meeting up with other groups?” I finally asked.

“I’ll explain more later, I promise,” Mom replied.

A flicker of anger rippled through me. Before I could say something I might regret, Maddie stepped up and boldly said, “No, Mom. We want to know now.”

Our mother traded a look with Dad. He shrugged and said, “I guess they have the right to know.”

“Fine.” Mom sank to a knee in the shade of the big trees and encouraged us to do the same. “Best as I could tell from the forums, there are several groups of folks out here, or at least on the way out here to meet up. Likeminded people like us who are sick of what’s going on in this country.”

“We’re not all here to hide,” Dad added. “Some of us are ready to do something about all this.”

“Like fight back?” I asked tentatively.

“If it comes to that,” Mom said. “We hope not, but you saw what happened to Marisol and Big Dave at the church. It might be our only option.”

My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. I sucked in a breath and listened as calmly as I could while Dad explained further.

“The idea is that people all over the country will rise up. It’s not just us. Someone strong will take the lead, I know it. People will rally around them, and we can finally remove this scourge from our country.”

I nodded numbly. In a matter of moments, we’d gone from simply hiding in the woods to potentially organizing some kind of resistance. It was too much to process.

My parents continued talking, mostly to Maddie to try to calm her down. I ended up tuning them out. Next thing I knew, I was standing on the trail ready to move out again.

The collar of my shirt was wetter than a washrag. I wiped the sweat from my brow again, and was about to ask Dad for the water jug when I realized it was empty.

“Let’s go,” Mom said as if we were burning daylight.

The only thing burning was my calf muscles. They throbbed from the climb, and I knew they’d be on fire once we headed downhill. As long as the cramps stayed away, I’d survive. Or so I hoped.

It was even steeper going down the mountain, and I could see where Mom got the idea of a ski run. It would’ve been wickedly fast. So fast I had to be careful with my footsteps while we hiked. It felt like I’d tumble all the way to the bottom of the hill if I slipped on a rock. The only benefit to the treacherous path was how it helped keep my mind off their recent revelations.

It was almost a surprise when we reached the valley below, quickly. I hadn’t taken my eyes off the ground in front of me all the way down, and finally looked up to see another incline in the distance.

“I thought it was all downhill,” I said.

“Oh, silly,” Mom said. “Nothing’s flat out here.”

Dad stopped to check the map one last time. “The hill’s not that big.”

“Not that big,” I scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Just come on,” Mom said. “We’re too close to quit now.”

“That’s right,” Dad added. “Twenty is up at the top…half-mile or less.”

As we headed up a gentle incline, I finally understood where Mom’s ridiculous statement about making a mountain out of a molehill came from. I barely had the energy to walk on flat ground. Any type of climb was sapping my strength like air leaking from a tire. I was already clumping along, wobbly and out of balance. It wasn’t pretty.

When we neared the top, we came to a stop along the side of the trail. Mom stepped back into the woods and motioned for us to follow her.

“Are we waiting here again?” Austin asked, and Mom nodded an exhausted reply. “I want to come with you.”

I’d have rather stayed and tried to get in another nap, but I really didn’t want her running off ahead on her own again. I was sure as soon as she caught her breath she’d tell Austin to wait with us.

“I’m coming too,” I volunteered, not wanting to be split up again. “We should all go.”

Mom allowed me to come along, but said, “Your dad can stay with Maddie.”

He looked like he was about to object, but when he pinched his mouth shut I didn’t push the issue.

I glanced at my sister. Her normally straight hair hung in sweaty clumps, matted to the side of her face. Overly red cheeks coupled with a mouth that sucked in air like a fish out of water. Inwardly, I agreed that it might be best to leave her behind for a minute.

“C’mon,” Mom said, waving at Austin and me. “Let’s go.”

We set off through the woods, keeping parallel to the trail. The breeze decided to quit, so we continued broiling even though we were out of the direct sunlight. I listened for any sound of noise from the camp again, but all was quiet other than our boots shuffling.

A sharp metallic clacking appeared out of nowhere, loud as a fire alarm. We froze as the slide loaded a shell into a shotgun. A menacing voice barked.

CHAPTER 28

“Hold it right there!” the man growled.

“Oh, crap,” Mom whispered under her breath. She held up an arm for us to stop, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Austin stayed put too.

A thickly-bearded man in a camouflage shirt and dark pants stepped from behind a tree. His shotgun was leveled at Mom. Though my knees trembled, I stepped alongside her with hands up, palms facing out.

“We mean no harm,” Mom said as the gun slowly shifted from side to side as if it was remembering where all three of us stood.

“What’re y’all doin’ up here?” he asked sharply. His eyes narrowed to a squint, giving a rattlesnake appearance—even more so since he was coiled up and ready to strike. Images of Hatfields and McCoys ran through my mind, and none of them ended with anything other than a shootout. Only problem was we weren’t armed.

 “Looking for Spotted Fawn,” Mom said, and I expected him to call us out for lying or wonder why we were out looking for deer.

Instead, he lowered the weapon and offered a toothy grin. All of his teeth were in place, assuaging any concerns he might’ve been a toothless mountain man.

“Is that right?” he said, changing from a grin to a smirk. “And what’s that exactly?”

“My friend,” Mom said tentatively.

“You don’t-”

“I have no idea what her real name is.”

“Very good,” the man said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, Mom passed the test. “Come with me.”

“Is she-”

He held up a finger to shush her. “You’ll see.”

We fell in behind him and weaved single file through the woods. The man whistled like a bird as he slowed, and a similar sounding whistle floated back to us.

A head popped out from behind a tree. The new man looked us over and nodded in a semi-friendly manner. We walked past without speaking, my pulse racing. I didn’t exactly feel like a captive. We were unbound, yet I was ready to run at a moment’s notice. Then again, I had no idea how many sentries they had posted out in the woods. Surely more than one.

Anxiety built to the boiling point when the woods opened up in front of us. Darkly colored shadows milled among the campsites beyond the closest picnic table. Humps rose from the forest floor, covered with leaves to look like bushes.

At the edge of the clearing, the man whistled again and waved to a pair of adults talking next to a picnic table. They each held up a hand to acknowledge us, but didn’t bother to turn around. While they continued talking, I noticed the top of the table was bare, but the underneath was crammed full of cardboard boxes.

“Just wait here,” the man told us. “Spotted Fawn will be over in a second.”

He gestured to the two adults as if we couldn’t have figured it out. One was a woman who was apparently giving orders to the other man. He hustled off toward the back of the camp, and she turned to face us.

I had to hold my jaw to keep it from dropping open.

The middle-aged woman, dressed in camouflage like the others, strolled over to us with a welcoming smile. I was too dumbfounded to speak when she said, “Welcome. Who do we have here, John?”

“This lady was looking for Spotted Fawn,” the bearded man answered.

“That’s right,” Mom answered. “I’m Sunning Bear.”

While I held back a chuckle at the name, Spotted Fawn spoke up.

“Awesome! You found us, and brought your fam…” The woman paused when our eyes met. “Don’t I know you?” she said, and I nodded stupidly. “You were at my house a couple days ago.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mom and Austin turned to look at me, but I ignored them to finally ask the question I’d been dying to get out. “Is Katelyn here?”

I may have said it too eagerly, but Mrs. Jennings didn’t seem to mind. “Of course.” To my relief, she kept the smile on her face. “It’s Zachary, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s right.” I tripped over the words trying to find out more. “Where, uhm, is she…Mrs. Jennings?”

My eyes darted around the campsite, but she was nowhere to be found. A handful of adults were scattered around tending to supplies or moving things around, but no one younger than twenty-five seemed to be in camp.

“Just a second, hon,” Spotted Fawn said, echoing my Mom’s favorite nickname.

Mrs. Jennings asked Mom about Marisol, and I tuned out much of the following conversation, preferring to search on my own for any sign of Katelyn. My eyes passed over another leafy hump, and I stepped away from Mom’s discussion with Katelyn’s mother to check one out. Buried underneath a mountain of small branches, it turned out to be a green vinyl dome tent.

I jumped when the bearded man said, “Nice camouflage, huh?”

I turned to find him right over my shoulder, apparently giving the women time to talk.

“Wh-why so much?”

“Too many eyes from up above.” John looked up at the bits of blue sky peeking through the tree cover. “You’ve seen the planes, right?”

How could I forget them? “Too many.” It reminded me of the explosions I’d heard earlier. “We heard bombs and thought maybe they’d hit you guys.”

“It was kinda close.” He grinned. “You should’ve seen everyone come running out of those tents. Like a fox in a henhouse.”

“But everyone’s fine?” I said, even though he’d already answered the question. I needed to know about Katelyn.

He nodded. “Sound travels weird in the hills. I reckon it was probably somewhere west of Elkmont, so not that concerning.”

I wished Dad was there with the map. We needed to go back to find him. “We’ve got two more of our family waiting in the woods. Can we go get them?”

“Show me the way,” John said, and we walked off to fetch Dad and Maddie. I didn’t bother to check on Austin before we left.

John whistled to the sentries like before. Along the way, I asked, “Where’s everyone else at? Like the people my age?”

“Working, just like everybody else.” He sized me up. “Everyone has a job to do.”

“That’s not a problem,” I said. “I expected as much.” It certainly hadn’t been a picnic up to that point, and vacation—or rebellion—with my parents was sure to entail a ton of work, with or without company.

“That’s good.”

“So what kind of jobs are they out doing, like maybe Spotted Fawn’s daughter?”

He eyed me suspiciously, but with good reason. That wasn’t very subtle.

“Washing clothes at the creek, bringing back water. Maybe gathering berries or scouting.”

I could see Katelyn handling any of them, though the scouting I wasn’t quite as sure about. But I got the impression she wasn’t afraid of a little work, and not at all prissy like my sister.

I pointed to the left, and veered off toward the trail where we’d left my dad and sister behind. We kept our voices low as we tromped along, and I wondered how we’d keep from frightening them.

“You mind if I call for them?” I asked.

“That’s fine. Just don’t shout.”

Maddie replied as soon as I said her name. She sounded timid, but at least awake and alert. John and I stepped onto the trail, and she rose up with Dad right behind her.

“You found them,” Dad said, and walked over to pat me on the shoulder.

“Yep. Mom’s talking to Spotted Fawn.” I didn’t volunteer that the apparent leader of the camp was also my prospective girlfriend’s mother. Nor that she seemed surprisingly more in charge and at ease in the wild than Marisol had indicated earlier.

John introduced himself, and we chatted as we walked back through the woods.

“Why aren’t we taking the trail?” Maddie asked. John whistled at a sentry, and I thought it would answer the question for her. She swatted at a low hanging limb and huffed. “Seriously, why?”

“Just trying to keep a low profile,” John deadpanned, but seemed to add on the next part for shock value. “No need to tip off the drones. We don’t need a missile attack.”

Maddie pinched her mouth shut and didn’t say another word the rest of the way. Dad talked to John about the camp, and I came to find out there were at least five different families holed up there, all from the Knoxville area.

At first, it didn’t make sense based on the larger number of tent mounds I’d seen.

“Big families,” I remarked. “I would’ve guessed more like forty people.”

“It’s not just parents and kids,” John explained. “We’re talking grandparents, aunts and uncles. If you knew the end of the world was coming, you’d bring everyone you knew.”

Good point, scary though it was. Only we didn’t have any family left, at least not close to us. Grandma passed away at least ten years before, and Grandpa was probably still driving around his farm in a beat up old truck.  Too stubborn to leave, as Mom had told Dad recently.

“So they’re all related to Spotted Fawn?” I asked, imagining this was a lot like one of those giant family reunion parties I’d seen at a park pavilion before.

“Sort of, I guess,” John said. “Keep it down for a second.” He whistled as we halted about thirty yards shy of the edge of camp, but no one replied.

John frowned but didn’t say anything at first. He motioned for us to stay put while he crept forward for a look.

“What’s up?” Maddie whispered.

“I don’t know.” I rocked on my feet, fighting a losing battle to keep my muscles loose. “There were all kinds of people around when we left.”

I made a mental note to ask for water when things got sorted out. Before my legs completely cramped up, John waved us forward. “Hurry up.”

We jogged to the edge and looked at the ghost town of a camp. The adults were gone, but everything still seemed to be in place. I noticed Dad and Maddie looking at the camouflaged tents curiously before turning my eyes back to the campsite. All the supplies were still stacked under the tables.

Dad showed no willingness to add his duffel bag to the pile. I was sure that was going to the tent with him.

“This way,” John said, pointing across the camp toward an outhouse building like the one at Nineteen.

I turned my nose up, but froze when a frazzled Spotted Fawn emerged from the woods behind it.

“Hurry, John!” she called. “There’s been an accident.”

CHAPTER 29

“What’s going on?” John said as he sprinted toward Mrs. Jennings. I was right on his heels.

“At the waterfall,” she replied, pointing at a faint trail leading off into the woods behind the crapper. “They need help.”

As frantic as Spotted Fawn seemed, we didn’t wait around for more information. John flew down the narrow dirt path, pushing aside branches. I heard Maddie get smacked, but didn’t turn back to look. All I could imagine was Katelyn stretched out at the bottom of the falls, her body wrenched into opposite directions.

We heard the shouts before we got close to the group. They easily overpowered the sound of falling water, which was more of a muted rumble like our shower at home, but the voices blended together until I couldn’t make out the words.

“John, thank God,” a grandfatherly man said when we met him on the trail. He leaned against a rock outcropping, seemingly winded. “Someone’s fallen up there.”

I saw Katelyn again, cartoon flat at the bottom of a ravine, water pounding her bloody body. I kept pace with John, not caring if Dad and Maddie were still close.

The trail narrowed to where we had to put one foot in front of the other. To our left side, the ground dropped into a ravine that had to be hundreds of feet below. It was all green leaves with sporadic glimpses of a stream running way at the bottom, but far from a pillow if we tripped.

John slipped, sending gravel pattering onto the leaves below like raindrops. He kept his footing and moved impossibly fast toward the falls. Somehow I managed to keep up with him.

Through a clearing, I spotted a giant, flat rock outcropping sitting at the end of our path. A thin stream of water crashed onto the rock from a hill behind it, and reformed to spew again over the edge of the rock into the ravine below.

Not much of a waterfall, I thought, wondering if the drought had robbed it of its potential. But I didn’t linger on those thoughts.

A crowd had gathered on the ledge. Off to the side, a boy not quite a teen was stretched out on the ground. Two women leaned over him. Another pair of grade school kids was pressed up against the base of the rock cliff forming the upper falls, rubbing bruises.

“We can’t get down there,” an adult was saying as he peered over the edge on hands and knees. He didn’t even have to shout to be heard.

“You need a rope or something.” A woman in the crowd turned to John and lit up with relief when she spotted him. “You have anything?”

“Not really.” He hustled to the edge of the drop off, and I stayed right on his heels. “What’s the situation?”

The kneeling man pointed into a field of boulders and fallen logs. “We’ve got two over the side.”

I nearly jumped over to follow them down when I heard a girl from below shout, “Please hurry!”

Her voice sounded strained, but there was no doubting who said it. I laid on the rock and stuck my head over. A boy in shorts and a t-shirt was motionless on a flat rock immediately below the falls. It wasn’t as far as I’d expected, but was still a fifteen foot drop to solid, jagged rocks.

“Katelyn!” I yelled. “Where are you?”

“Zach? Is that you?”

I followed the sound of her voice underneath the falls. “Yeah. I’m coming,” I said confidently, though I had no idea how.

I spotted a fleck of yellow through the water and crawled around the kneeling man to get a look on the other side. Katelyn was in a sunny, happy-colored shirt while lying crookedly on the boulders. I couldn’t see one of her legs.

“Are you okay?” I shouted though I didn’t really need to in order to be heard over the water.

“I can’t move my leg,” she said.

“I’m coming to get you.” I looked up to find a way down to her.

“Bring up Jonas first, okay?” I could almost hear her swallow before she added, “It looks bad. He’s not moving.”

Movement off to the side caught my eye. A group of several adults were trying to work their way into the ravine from the right. It was a treacherous side hill, and I wondered if they wouldn’t fall and end up even deeper into the ravine. It seemed to drop all the way to Knoxville.

I thought back to the path John and I had used to get there. Right after the narrowest part of the trail, the slope had flattened out before we’d reached the waterfall. I had to try to get to Katelyn from there.

“Don’t move,” I shouted to Katelyn, not really meaning to be a smart-aleck. I stood and offered a hand to pull John up. “Come with me.”

He was eager to follow my lead, surprisingly not asking any questions as we went back to the trail. We ran forty yards back to point where the slope fell off about six feet to a dirt landing.

“This way.” I sat on my butt and slid off the trail. I landed on the dirt, jarring myself but it was easy enough. Smashing my way through the brush was going to be harder.

“Follow us,” John called back to the others after he landed behind me.

I kept my eyes on my feet and raised an arm to shield my face. Like a fullback, I plowed through the brush until a thicker tree fought back and stopped me in my tracks.

“Watch that one,” I called back to John, but there was no reply. He was still where we’d slid off, waiting for the others to catch up. When he hollered at the others to follow him, I turned my attention back to finding Katelyn.

I readjusted course around the big tree, ducked under another, and soon found myself at the edge of the stream. Up ahead, the falling water slammed onto boulders.

“Katelyn,” I called. “Almost there.”

“Thank God.”

“Are you okay?” I asked again, not knowing what else to say. All the while I searched for the quickest path through stones of varying sizes from medicine ball to Volkswagen.

“I don’t know.” The pause made me pick up my pace. Finally, she added, “I’ll live. I’m just wedged tight.”

She told me to check on the boy again, and I hurried to him, leaping from rock to rock, praying they wouldn’t shift on me. As big as they were, they looked stable enough.

I knelt at Jonas’ side, but couldn’t bring myself to touch him. I thought I should try to check his pulse but settled for watching his chest.

Someone hollered from up above, but I ignored him to stand up and search for John.

“He’s breathing.” There was still no sign of help, though I heard rustling from the bushes. “John! Where are you?”

“Coming,” he said, and he burst out of the woods with two other men in tow.

“He’s still alive,” I said. “I saw his chest move.”

John rushed past. “I’ll get him if you want to look after Katie.”

Ignoring the unexpected nickname, and without giving him an answer, I hopped over the stream to get to her. At least I knew what to do for her, more or less.

Katelyn’s brown eyes met mine as I slid in next to her. Her face was damp, presumably from falling water splashing on an adjacent rock. I wiped the spray from the side of her face and put my back between us and the waterfall.

“What hurts?”

“Everything,” she replied. “He was too close to the edge. I tried to grab him, but I was too late.” She wiped at her eyes, close to sobbing.

“He’s gonna be okay,” I said. I had to believe that. “John has him, and he’s breathing. Probably just knocked out.”

“Good. That’s real good.” She looked down at her lap and took an unsteady, deep breath.

I noticed her left leg was twisted awkwardly underneath her. “Can you move?”

“I’m wedged tight. I can’t push it off.” She patted a round rock leaning against the back of her other leg. It was big enough to make a nice seat had she been standing. “The rock rolled when I landed.”

“That’s all though?”

“I think. I landed on my feet.”

“Luckily.”

“Very.” She looked over toward John who was telling the other two men to lift the boy. “More than Jonas.”

“I’m gonna get you outta here.” I moved behind her to get a look at the boulder. “Get ready to move when I say.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. I threw my weight into the rock. It weighed a ton, perhaps literally, but I was able to make it shift—barely.

“Pull your leg out,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I can’t.”

“You’ve got to!” I yelled, not meaning to raise my voice.

I kept shoving against the rock, but it wouldn’t move farther. It was lodged in a gap between two others and wasn’t about to budge.

Thankfully, John appeared at my side. We double-teamed the rock and the second I felt it lurch I took off a hand to yank Katelyn from the trap.

“Go, girl!” John encouraged, grunting against the rock.

She crawled out, and the rock settled back into the groove with a thump. I slid to her side, almost knocking her over in my haste. She gripped her right leg with both hands. Her round cheeks gave a red color to her flawless face, which twisted into a grimace.

With a clenched jaw, breathing through her teeth, she turned to me frantically. “I can’t feel my toes.”

 The leg looked fine through her jeans. It wasn’t bent to the side like a wicked football injury. I tried to think what to say and finally managed, “It’s probably numb. The blood flow was cut off for a while, huh?”

I reached for her pant leg, and she put a hand over mine, pinning it to her thigh.

“Let me check, okay?”

“Fine.” She looked away, and I hoped that would keep her from flinching when I touched her.

I gently pulled her pant leg halfway up to her knee. There was a heavy purple line cutting across her calf from the left side of her shin all the way across the back. The skin was indented, deep as a pencil, from being pressed against the rocks. But there was no blood running all over.

I pressed gently on the gouge. “Can you feel this?”

“Barely.” She looked down and turned up her nose at the sight. “It’s just a dull ache.”

“I’m not saying it’s not broken,” John said softly, reminding me he was still there, “but I’m thinking it doesn’t look too bad.” He stood up. “We’re gonna get you back up to camp, alright?”

“Do you need to check on the boy?” I asked.

He hesitated. “Maybe. You have this?”

I nodded and hopped to my feet. Katelyn reached for the hand I offered. John looked to her for confirmation.

“I’ll be alright. Go on.”

John headed back across the rocks toward the trail, seemingly eager to check on Jonas. From the edge of the woods, he called back, “Holler if you need help. I’ll send someone back for you.”

“Thank you,” Katelyn said.

“He seems nice,” I said, as he disappeared into the woods.

Katelyn smiled unexpectedly, and the red on her cheeks seemed more like a blush.

It was odd enough that I had to ask, “What?”

“Just glad you think so.” She grinned wider. “He’s my brother.”

CHAPTER 30

I stood there dumbfounded for a moment, perhaps longer. I wouldn’t have guessed that about John. “You look nothing alike.”

“Not everyone does, you know,” Katelyn said. “Besides, he’s a lot older.”

“And hairier too.” It felt better to see Katelyn laugh. “Anyway…I figured he was older. Twenty something?”

“Twenty-six, maybe. I forget.”

She tried to test her weight on the sore leg. It was apparent she couldn’t do much with it. As soon as her toe touched the ground, she jerked it back up like a dog favoring an injured paw.

I held out my arms, eager to help her. “I’ll carry you.”

“Thanks, but let me try again.” Katelyn grimaced and inhaled sharply. “It burns, like when it’s asleep and really hard to wake up.”

“Hopefully it’ll go away then.” I slid next to her. “Just throw your arm over my shoulder.”

It didn’t work out quite the way I had planned. The rocks in the gorge made it almost impossible to go side by side, much like the trail back to camp. So I ended up taking her hands instead and helping her balance on one foot as she hopped through the tougher parts.

She winced every time she had to use her left leg for balance, but kept going like a trooper. I didn’t know if it was okay for her to put weight on it, but if she was willing to try I wasn’t going to stand in the way.

Climbing the drop-off up to the trail was the real challenge. The crowd seemed to have cleared out from the waterfall by the time we got back to the path.

I looked both ways along the trail. “So much for John sending someone back to help.”

“I’m sure he was worried about Jonas,” Katelyn said.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t criticizing,” I said quickly. I thought it best to change the subject, but struggled finding something to say. “Uhm, you know it’s kinda nice finally getting to spend some time with you.”

“I just saw you two days ago,” she teased, letting a grin barely slip through the pain. I supposed it had been a ridiculous thing for me to say, but everything was suddenly so much more serious.

“Seems like months to me.”

“That’s sweet…I think.” She paused as if considering her response. “I’m glad you’re with me now.” Before I could reply, she grinned mischievously and raised her voice. “But are you gonna help me up there?”

I lowered a hand to her hip and let it linger. She didn’t brush it away, so I took that as a good sign.

“You want a boost?” I hoped. “Or I can pull you up.”

“Whatever’s gonna work,” she said, before suddenly narrowing her eyes. She glanced at my hand and smiled. “You’re just wanting to grab my-”

“No,” I objected, perhaps too quickly. “Well, maybe…”

Katelyn kept her eyes on me, jokingly, but still making me squirm in my boots. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

More than you know, I thought. Instead, I patted her on the butt and bounded on ahead. “I’ll pull you up. Wait right there and I’ll get where I can grab you.”

“There’s that grab word again,” she kidded with a wink.

“Hey, you said it the first time,” I replied before climbing up the slope using judicious footholds and several branches. Once settled in, I offered a hand back to Katelyn. It was a clumsy sort of one-legged hop up the side, but it worked.

She cleared the top of the slope with a final jerk and collapsed into my arms. We slumped onto the trail, gasping hard. Neither of us had enough energy to head back to camp.

Once I got my breath back, I asked, “So what were you doing here anyway?”

“Babysitting.” She smiled demurely. “I know. Not such a great job, huh?”

I laughed in spite of myself. “Kinda dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Obviously, though I didn’t think so at first.”

“Sorry, I meant being away from camp.” I thought back to the vehicles and the airplanes and who knew what else was scouring the mountains. “There’re soldiers everywhere.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? I haven’t heard that.”

It sounded like sarcasm, but I wasn’t sure. “Are you being serious?”

“Yeah.” She looked offended that I had to ask.

I was quick to backtrack. “Sorry, just checking, you know.” I realized that either her mom was keeping it from her, or maybe she was like I had been earlier. She didn’t want to believe it was possible. “Have you heard much about what’s going on?”

“Bits and pieces. They’ve kinda had me watching the kids the whole time.” She glanced back toward the falls. “Maybe not so much anymore.”

I pulled her up and waited for her to steady herself on her feet.

“Well, I’m not sure how to say this, but…hmmm.” I searched for the right place to start, and ended up launching into my own experiences before the delay became too uncomfortable. “But, wow, do I have a lot to tell you about those last two days.”

On the walk back to camp, I ran through everything else I’d seen since our Jeep took off for the park. Even when it came to the Mr. Clean and Marisol beat down, I didn’t hold back. She needed to know.

We stumbled into the campsite to find John sitting at the closest picnic table. His head jerked our way as soon as we stepped into the clearing.

“About time you got back. I was about to come after you.”

“It looks like it,” Katelyn replied.

“Seriously,” he protested.

“Right.” She pointed at his feet. “You already took your boots off. Thanks, bro.”

Still draped over my shoulder, she pulled me to the side toward where her mother was talking to a group of older adults. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched John stare at us the whole way.

“So you get along with your brother about as well as I do with mine?” I said.

“I’m just giving him trouble. He’s not so bad.”

Mrs. Jennings was talking to my mother and several other adults. She broke off the conversation as soon as she noticed Katelyn.

“Oh, dear. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“You don’t look it. You can barely walk.”

“My leg was just kind of asleep,” Katelyn said. Her mom’s eyes narrowed with disbelief. “I mean it hurts a little, but Zach’s been helping me get around.”

Mrs. Jennings turned to me. “Thank you for bringing my baby back.”

“Mom, I hate when you say that,” Katelyn protested, groaning.

“But you’ll always be my baby.”

“You’re so embarrassing.” She held up a hand to shush her mother’s reply. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m back. And starving.”

“There’s some food ready, I think.” Mrs. Jennings pointed toward a small fire smoking at the rear of the camp. “Help yourselves, but I really don’t want you walking around on that leg until we know for sure that you’re alright. Okay?”

“Fine.”

 “Sorry, hon, but I really need to get back to this. I’ll check on you soon. Holler if you need something.”

My mother had stepped out of the group too. She approached me on the opposite side from Katelyn. As happy as I was to see her, I waved her away with my free arm. I hoped she didn’t take offense, but I didn’t turn back to check as I helped Katelyn hobble away from the group. Even after what we’d been through, I was still uncomfortable about having my potential girlfriend meet my mother.

“So much for worrying about me,” Katelyn muttered as I guided her toward the back. “Her planning stuff is getting kinda ridiculous.” She stopped suddenly and turned to me. “Or maybe not, huh? You were talking about some serious stuff.”

“You heard the explosion, right?” I asked, remembering that I’d forgotten to mention that on our hike. “We were on the way over here, and I was sure they’d bombed your camp.”

“Kinda like thunder?” she asked, and I nodded. “I was at the waterfall then. Someone said something about a storm, but it was so loud between all the kids goofing around and the waterfall…”

She stopped to lean against a table, and stared at me with wide eyes. There was a trace of fear or sadness or something I couldn’t quite place. I had a feeling I shared her thoughts, or more like concerns, and had to force myself to look away.

“It’s serious, whatever it is. But that’s enough of that for now. How about you rest here and I’ll go grab some food?”

Her lips parted ever so slightly and curled. “You’ll wait on me?”

“Of course.”

Her dimples were insanely attractive as she broke into a big smile, and I lost the ability to reply. I mumbled something unintelligible and hurried over to the fire to grab a couple hamburgers off a plate.

Having not had real food for what seemed like weeks, I could’ve eaten them both before I got back to Katelyn—and gone back for more. I forced myself to wait, my stomach churning in anticipation the entire way back.

I handed Katelyn the burger. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. I’m so hungry.”

“You are?” I said incredulously. “I haven’t had anything other than rabbit food the last two days. This is so good. You almost didn’t get one.”

“Then I suppose I should thank you for controlling yourself.”

I took a giant bite, and another. The burger was gone before Katelyn had hardly started eating. She held hers out to me, but I waved her away. “You need that.”

I sat and watched her eat, my eyelids growing heavy with sleep that hadn’t come for quite a while. At least not decent sleep.

 My head bobbed, and I wrenched my neck to keep from hitting the table. Katelyn laughed while I massaged my tired, sore muscles.

“You nearly fell off the table.”

I took a deep breath to clear the cobwebs. “Man, that was as bad as Miss Pratt’s Spanish class.”

“Oh, I haven’t had her yet. Is she tough?”

“Not as bad as Hooper. She’s terrible.”

“I’m not looking forward to Spanish next-”

Katelyn froze mid-sentence. I assumed she was struck by the same thing that hit me. There we were talking about going to school next year when it seemed so obvious we had no idea what might happen next week. The idea of going back to school was ludicrous—and depressing.

Long walks to and from school with Katelyn weren’t going to happen, I realized. There would be no sneaking a couple minutes with her between classes, or maybe even getting in the same class. I hadn’t even talked to her about her schedule for next year, but understood that it no longer mattered.

Our classroom was shaping up to be the great outdoors, so we would be together for our education in some weird sort of way. Of course, Joe wouldn’t be there to annoy the teachers. None of my friends would be there, and I had no clue where they were at or what they were doing at the moment. No doubt Joe would be off causing trouble, and the city would need half the police force to keep an eye on him. However, if a full scale rebellion happened the way my parents were thinking, there was no telling if any of my buddies would make it. Or if we would make it.

Sleeping through Spanish class didn’t matter anymore. There were bigger concerns weighing on me harder than an overstuffed backpack. Mostly they all boiled down to one key point: what good was having Katelyn there if everything else was horribly, terribly, forever changed.

It wasn’t fair.

I closed my eyes, and quickly buried my face in my hands to keep a tear from breaking free.

“You okay?” Katelyn said softly.

“Yeah. Just thinking about school, and…you know.”

I finally pulled myself together to look at her. She smiled demurely, and said, “Me too. I was really looking forward-”

She abruptly turned her head to the sky. It took my foggy mind a moment to realize she’d picked up on something out of place.

“Get down!” someone yelled from the other side of the camp. “Choppers coming!”

It was too far to run to the woods. As others scurried like mice, Katelyn and I slid to the ground to hide underneath the table.

CHAPTER 31

A pair of helicopters hovered overhead. The downdraft from the low-flying military craft beat at the trees like a tropical storm. My blood pressure pushed to the boiling point, ready to burst as the helicopters camped out overhead for seconds that turned to minutes. Finally, after stirring up a cloud of leaves, the engines roared and they moved off to the east.

“It seems real now,” Katelyn whispered as the dust settled.

A sharp pain was tearing into my forearm, and I looked down to find her fingers wrapped tightly around me. I didn’t want her to know, so I gently laid a hand over hers and waited for her grip to relax. It took her a lot longer than it took for the helicopters to completely disappear.

I subtly rubbed my sore arm as we remained hiding underneath the table. The rest of the camp slowly came back to life while I remained in no hurry to get back up. Not with the worry of what might arrive next, and not with Katelyn pressed close to me.

I looked up from my arm to find her face millimeters from mine. My short hair grazed her long brown locks, and I leaned in to rest my head on hers. Her breathing was shallow and fast. If I had any blood flowing through my wrist, I could’ve checked my pulse and found it to be racing—not entirely from the helicopters.

If I’d had the courage, I might’ve checked Katelyn’s pulse in her neck with my lips. Instead, I kept my forehead against hers and listened to her breathe. My hands remained on top of hers, and she weaved her fingers into mine.

The temperature went up dramatically until I pulled my head away, not wanting her to feel the sweat building on my brow. I let go of her hands long enough to wipe them on my pants, and grabbed them again before she could pull away.

“This is crazy, huh?” I mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“I never believed it. Even with all that no travel stuff, I never believed this could happen.”

“My dad always told us the country was going to hell, but I didn’t listen.” I shook my head and continued cowering under the table. “And Mom was all about us being prepared for that to happen. But physically in terms of supplies and stuff…not really mentally.”

“Is she here?”

I pointed over toward a newly reformed group of adults, who appeared to be speaking into a walkie-talkie like the kind we’d had back at the church. “She’s talking to your mom now.”

“Oh.” Something about the way she said it sounded weird. I shot Katelyn a look and she backpedaled quickly. “I meant that in a good way. She’s very pretty.”

It was my turn to say, “Oh.” I cleared my throat to reorganize my thoughts. “That’s not exactly what I was thinking.”

“Of course.” Katelyn chuckled under her breath. “So I guess our parents know each other, huh?”

We watched as the two of them seemed to carry on quite a spirited, but friendly, conversation. “Pretty well, I’d say. I guess that’s a good thing.”

“So why haven’t I met her?”

I wanted to mention that my parents were crazy, but I was quickly learning I’d maybe judged them incorrectly. They might have been awkward and embarrassing, but that was keeping us alive right then. Exhausted, but alive.

“How about now?”

“Sure,” Katelyn said, somewhat more confidently than I had anticipated. I was always terrified of meeting the parents, not that I’d had much experience with that sort of thing. My first time had been a couple days earlier, and that had gone surprisingly well.

It was hard not to like Katelyn’s mom. She had a big personality, and was far more friendly than prying. Besides having put me instantly at ease, she’d seemed to accept me into her house right away.

 Mom stayed busy talking. I stood behind her for a moment to wait, and spotted Maddie at a picnic table. Her head was resting on her hands, elbows perched on her knees. I brought a limping Katelyn over to her instead.

“Hey, Mad.”

She looked up at me with eyes swollen from fatigue, I hoped. Not that I would’ve been surprised to find her crying. She turned her head inquisitively as she glanced at Katelyn, and I started to regret bringing her over.

“This is, uhm, Katelyn,” I said, stumbling over the words for some unknown reason.

“No way.” She sat up a little straighter. “The Katelyn?”

“The one and only,” I said.

“You know me?” Katelyn asked, her words chasing mine.

“Sure.” Maddie looked happier than I’d expected. I figured a big-time Luke meltdown was on the horizon. “Zach talks about you all the time.”

“He does, does he?” Katelyn gave me a sly grin. “Tell me more.”

I shook off a blush to scowl at Maddie.

She laughed in return. “Oh, things I could say.” My irritating little sister rubbed her chin. “Where to start, really?”

“That’s enough.” I grabbed Katelyn by the arm to steer her back over toward my mother. Oddly, that seemed like safer ground.

“Not so fast,” she purred. “I’d like to hear more.”

Maddie lapped up the attention. “Let’s see…well-”

“We need to go see Mom,” I interrupted.

Katelyn gave my sister a conspiratorial grin. “We’ll talk soon.” I tugged on her arm, and she added, “Nice to meet you,” over her shoulder as I dragged her away.

We headed back to find my mother finally wrapping up her conversation with Mrs. Jennings. Mom’s brow was furrowed as she turned toward us. She was apparently so preoccupied she walked right past us without saying a word.

“Mom,” I called after her, but my only response was boots pounding on the ground.

Katelyn steered me over toward her mother instead. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, hey kids.” Mrs. Jennings looked equally concerned about something as she slipped the walkie-talkie in her pocket. Before I could question that, she asked Katelyn, “Shouldn’t you be resting? You’re still limping a bit.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really. How about you?”

Mrs. Jennings exhaled exaggeratedly and lowered her voice. “No time for that now. If you’re okay, then I need to be packing.”

“Why?” Katelyn asked before I could.

Mrs. Jennings pulled us off to the side away from the other adults. As we sat down at a picnic table, I watched the group break apart and move around camp. Some milled aimlessly, either staring at the sky or watching their feet drag on the ground. But others were more planned in their movements. A couple dug into tents while others took off for the stockpile in the back.

When I turned back to Mrs. Jennings, she was saying, “I’m going into town. Tonight.”

“What?” Katelyn gripped my arm again. “You can’t leave us.”

“Gatlinburg?” I asked through clenched teeth. I’d already seen some of what had happened in that town on our way to the park, and I didn’t expect them to find much of anything useful. Or anyone at all.

She nodded. “I have to find out what’s going on…and more importantly, what’s left. The longer we wait, the more likely someone will grab the rest of the good stuff. We can’t take that chance.” Rather ambiguously she added, “There’s some, uhm, special kinda stuff we need to do.”

Talons dug deeper into the fleshy part of my forearm. I pulled my arm free as smoothly as I could and wrapped it around Katelyn’s shoulder. She tried to say something but couldn’t get the words out.

“Is my mom going with you?”

“Yes.” Before I could follow up, she added, “Several of us.” Mrs. Jennings looked at Katelyn. “Now no more questions. Just know that I need you to stay here and help watch over the kids.”

“Because I did such a good job with Jonas?” Katelyn managed a feeble laugh. I stifled a chuckle of my own while trying hard not to think about my mom heading off into a warzone.

“Because your brother’s going with me.”

She muttered something that sounded like, “Not John too.”

I squeezed her shoulders tightly and wondered about my dad and brother. I knew Maddie wasn’t going, but I assumed both of them might be headed off too. It reminded me of something I’d been wondering for a while.

I turned to Katelyn and asked, “Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know. Mom?”

“Still scouting. He left for Elkmont a while ago to see if our vehicles are still intact.” With a smile, she added, “Didn’t I say no more questions?”

When I looked at her curiously, she relented and filled me in on the rest of the story. “Fine. We parked and unloaded down in Elkmont, then hid the cars and hiked our way up here.”

I thought back to our Jeep covered with the tarp, and Mr. Clean’s truck. Neither of those vehicles could run anymore. At least not without some major repairs.

“When you father gets back, we’re headed out.” I felt Katelyn tremble as her mom talked. It was tearing me apart. “Don’t worry. It’s a short trip.”

Mrs. Jennings stood up from the table and took a moment to look over the camp. My eyes followed hers, noticing a building pile of supplies on one of the back tables. A man in a camouflage jacket tossed a backpack on a table, and returned a moment later with an armful of guns. It looked like a mix of hunting rifles and shotguns.

Another man emerged from a tent in the back with boxes of ammunition. By the way he walked, I realized it was John. Rather than let Katelyn see him preparing for what sounded like a risky mission, I helped her up.

“Show me where your tent’s at. You need to rest.”

“That a great idea,” Mrs. Jennings said.

Katelyn pointed off toward the trail at the front of the campsite. “Second one on the right,” she mumbled.

I walked her over to the tent, and reached underneath the pile of brush stacked on top to unzip the door. She lingered for a moment before finally dropping to her knees. Katelyn crawled inside and I was the one to linger, not really knowing what to do next.

Her head popped back out. “Stay with me.”

My heart skipped a beat. I shot a furtive glace toward the group of adults gathering toward the back of camp. “What about your Mom? She won’t like me in-”

“She’s leaving, so…” She swallowed and whispered, “I need someone.”

“I am someone,” I said, trying to cover up my anxiety with a joke. I took one more glance around the campsite. “Slide over, I’m coming in.”

In a swift movement, I dropped to the ground and shot inside the tent like I was jumping through a doggie door.

“Nervous?” Katelyn asked.

“I’d rather your mom didn’t find out.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Katelyn kept her soft brown eyes locked on me as I made myself comfortable. It was a four man tent, which meant it was really best suited for two people. Four would’ve pressed us together tightly, not unlike the way I hoped to be in a moment—only just with Katelyn.

“Uhm, yeah. Of course.” Having already mentioned the bombing on our hike back from the falls, I didn’t repeat that I’d already seen what had happened with the riot in Gatlinburg. The way I figured it, things were probably worse now than they were a couple days ago. Somehow, I managed to somewhat convincingly say, “They’ll be fine, though.”

“God, I hope so. This is all so crazy.” Katelyn rested her head on a pillow and scooted over to pat the wadded up, thicker sleeping bag next to her thin, cartoony one. “That’s John’s, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“You a little old to share with your brother?”

She laughed, thankfully, so I didn’t have to explain how I was kidding. Obviously, desperate times required sacrifices. I had no idea where I was going to be spending the night. Probably with Maddie and Austin.

I sat up suddenly, realizing the departure of both of our sets of parents would leave us sort of on our own for the evening. I could stay in there with Katelyn, but I wondered about Maddie.

“What?”

“I should probably check on my sister…sometime.” I laid back down, not ready to leave Katelyn. “We don’t have a tent here.”

“Something tells me that you take care of your sister. Anyone else?  Seems like you said something about a brother earlier.”

“Yeah, an older brother…Austin. He’s so annoying. Kinda like Maddie, but much worse.”

“Maybe I’m lucky I’ve only got John.” She stared at the tent ceiling for a moment. “He’d be gone from home if he could’ve found a job. Even Dad couldn’t get him one at the bank.”

“Your dad works at a bank?”

“Yeah, First South.” She looked at me curiously.

“So did mine. At the big building in Knoxville?”

“No way, mine too. They probably know each other.”

“Just like our moms. How weird.”

I scratched my chin and wondered exactly how similar our situations were. I didn’t remember anything unusual about her house for the short time I was over there on the couch. There were no boxes or tubs or backpacks sitting around. Her house was spotless.

Deeply intrigued, I had to ask more about what she knew ahead of time. “Did your dad, uhm, kinda have an idea that something like this might happen? It seemed like all I ever got was conspiracy theories.”

“Apparently it wasn’t exactly a theory, or a conspiracy, or whatevs.”

I chuckled under my breath and looked at my dad in a new light. “I guess you’re right. So you heard the same stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. All about default and bankruptcy and everyone losing their jobs. Then riots and no money.”

“Sounds familiar.” I let that sink in before asking, “When did you guys get out of town?”

“Not too long after you ditched me. Mom got an email or something, and we spent the rest of the afternoon throwing anything we could find into the car.”

“That was probably my mom,” I said. “She fired off something on the tablet before we rolled out of town.”

I couldn’t believe how similar our parents were, though I had a feeling my mom was a little more outdoorsy. And definitely a bigger prepper. Katelyn’s cartoon sleeping bag was too short and probably ten years old. It was the type with barely any insulation, and wouldn’t cover to her shoulders if she didn’t scrunch up inside it. I would’ve been happy to curl up in there with her, but we would’ve busted out the seams trying to get inside. The cheap thing was made for a little kid, implying to me that Katelyn had spent far more time at beaches in recent years than roughing it in a tent.

Things couldn’t get much rougher. Every creature comfort I’d ever known was gone. It wasn’t a long camping trip where I could see the light at the end of the uncomfortable tunnel. There was no end in sight, and no way to even predict the end.

I looked back at Katelyn, who had leaned back and closed her eyes. The flimsy bag wouldn’t offer much padding from the hard ground either, and I wondered if she was as ill-prepared for winter as me. I assumed she at least had a jacket and warmer clothes.

Everything about the situation made me want to go home, if nothing more than to grab more clothes and blankets. And a warmer sleeping bag for Katelyn.  It would be a brutal winter out there with that thin thing, if we even lasted that long.

CHAPTER 32

Fortunately, Katelyn wasn’t sleeping. She heard Mr. Jennings return, and I was able to sneak out of the tent before he came over. He stayed long enough to say a quick hello and check on her injured leg before heading off to prepare to leave again.

Katelyn joined me at a table. We watched the group get ready for their mission. My stomach was in turmoil, and I assumed Katelyn felt the same way.

At first, I almost didn’t recognize Austin and Dad. They were dressed in borrowed camouflage jackets, standing next to Mom and several others at the back side of the camp. Mom was smearing dark face paint on Dad, who looked less than pleased. But he wasn’t objecting. He rarely complained, though his facial expressions sometimes gave him away.

“The Olsens are going to be in charge of the camp,” Mr. Jennings said to his daughter as he returned to say goodbye. “I want you to help them out by watching all the kids. They’ll be doing the cooking, so you just need to keep the youngsters out of the way.” He turned to Mrs. Jennings, and without looking at Katelyn said, “We won’t be long, kiddo.”

“How long is that?” she asked.

“Back tomorrow. We’ll be in town by nightfall, grab what we need, and head back this way by morning.”

“So you’re hiking?” I said.

He turned to me with a quizzical look. “And you’re…”

“Zach.”

“Oh, right. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

There was something about the way he said taking care that didn’t sit quite right with me. The afternoon sunlight was blocked by a baseball cap, leaving his face in shadows. I assumed he meant at the waterfall, but seemed to imply something in the future too. Not that I minded, but it wasn’t the type of thank you that seemed fully sincere.

“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to be as polite as possible.

He ignored my reply to focus on Katelyn, and gave her the answer to my question. “The vehicles looked fine, but we’re not risking it. It’s not too long of a hike. Besides, we have something else in mind.” He spun around to walk back to the group, and left us with one last assurance. “We’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”

It struck me as one of those things people say to make someone else feel better. Coming back in one piece was almost totally out of his control, but I was relieved that it seemed to work for Katelyn. She hopped up to chase after him and gave him a hug.

“You’re moving well,” I said after she returned.

“Not too bad.” She sat down and ran a hand along her calf. I reached over to pull up her pant leg and hesitated.

“May I?”

“Sure.” She kicked her leg up on the seat, and I checked it out. There was a definite bruise forming, but not as bad as I’d expected. Of course, it would take time for it to make it to the surface in ugly purple and yellow fashion.

“The indentation is gone,” I said. “It looks pretty good.”

“I’m super lucky.” She ran her hand over mine, holding it to her leg. “I mean it hurts, but I don’t think it’s broken. I don’t know how, but…you know.”

“Count your blessings,” I said, mimicking something my mom might have said.

Thinking of her, I turned back to the group. I was tempted to go give her a farewell hug too, but she looked busy giving orders. Dad was pacing, while Austin was right behind Mom copying her every move. He had a gun holstered on his hip, loving this like it was a real life game of Call of Duty.

My stomach knotted moments later when Mr. Jennings waved the group of at least fifteen adults, our parents included, into the woods beyond the outhouse.

“I guess it’s just us now,” Katelyn said softly.

“Sorta. And the Olsens, whoever they are.” I gestured around the campsite to an older woman back by the kitchen area. She was probably someone’s grandmother. It made me miss mine even more than I’d expected.  And Grandpa.  It was a shame my parents couldn’t convince him to come along.  He had to have learned the truth by then, and I figured he would’ve probably changed his mind. But maybe not; he was stubborn, or so they often said.

“There’re a couple of ‘em,” Katelyn replied. “That older lady is the grandma.” She pointed to a similarly old guy who stepped out from behind a stack of boxes in the kitchen. It was the same slow man from along the trail to the waterfall. “And that guy.”

“That’s all they’ve left here with us?” I asked incredulously. “No wonder we need to watch the kids. That’s something my parents would say if they stuck me with some old fossils.”

Katelyn  laughed. “No, when I said a couple, I meant two couples.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they have a son and his wife here. They’re about our parents’ age…and they have their kids here too.”

“Dang, it really is like a big ole family reunion.”

“They’re our neighbors. Kinda quiet folks, but anyway…” She pointed across the camp to a couple I hadn’t seen stretched out on the leaves under a big tree. “And they’re over there.”

“Wonder what it feels like to miss out…” I cut myself off before saying something like missing out on the war, or avoiding the battle, or some other inflammatory, violent suggestion.  Katelyn didn’t need to be reminded of that.

I kept massaging Katelyn’s leg. A pair of kids ran by, and I was relieved to see Jonas chasing behind them. He wasn’t about to run a race, but he was getting around okay. A bandana was wrapped around his head, possibly to cover a cut, but he looked fine otherwise. Slow moving, but all right. I’d be sluggish too if I’d fallen off a cliff.

Mom had always said kids had loads of energy and they bounced back quickly. If that was the case, I was already feeling old. Worse yet to be in charge of a bunch of elementary school kids who really needed to keep their voices down.

“They’d better be quiet,” I said, and stood to go over and grab the loudest one by the collar.

Fortunately, Katelyn had a better idea. She got the attention of the kid nearest to us, and convinced the rest of them to come over and play a game by breaking into a bag of Frisbees.

“Oh, cool,” I said. “Ultimate Frisbee?”

“That’s probably a little too intense,” she said, mocking me kindly. “I was thinking maybe some catch.”

From the back of the group of six, a chunky older boy muttered, “Lame.”

I smiled and shot a look at Katelyn to rub it in. She brushed it off. “How about Frisbee golf?”

“How do you play that?” a red-haired, pencil-thin boy said. He looked about ten with pale blue eyes framed by a thousand freckles.

“Well, Lance,” Katelyn explained, “just pick out something to throw at and we’ll see who gets there in the least amount of throws.”

“How about that skinny girl?” Lance suggested, pointing at a black-haired girl resting her head on folded arms at the far picnic table.

“Sounds good to me,” I said eagerly. “I’ll throw first. Hand me a Frisbee.”

“Zach!” Katelyn chided. “Leave your sister alone.”

“I was just kidding.” I pointed across the clearing to a crooked tree at the edge of the woods. “How about that tree?”

“That’s better.” Katelyn passed out Frisbees to the group. “Everyone throw once before we start walking.”

It was a brilliant idea to keep all of our minds off the departure of the adults. The game went on until nearly dark when the sun settled below the mountaintop. Finally, when maybe a half hour of daylight remained, the grandmotherly woman and her husband called us over for supper.

It reminded me a lot of my first, and only, weekend at Boy Scout camp. We’d eaten sloppy joes and chips, and sat around picnic tables all tired from a long day outdoors. The only thing missing was a campfire.

Though it was a little early, as soon as the mosquitos arrived in full force, Katelyn suggested that the kids should head off to their tents.

I supposed it was bedtime for some of the younger kids. I was ready to sleep too, but I stayed out in the mosquito swarm long enough to help Katelyn and Maddie make sure all the younger kids got off to bed before stretching out myself.

None of the Olsen clan seemed to want to be bothered with getting everyone to their designated spots, at least other than their own kids, and that was fine with me.

 “Our tent’s over here, Zach,” Maddie called from a spot in the middle of camp close to the outhouse, of course. We were always by the crapper.

“I’m good,” I said. “You go to sleep, alright?”

“What are you…” Her words trailed off with a sudden realization. “Oh, you’re, uhm-”

“Staying with Katelyn.” Though I didn’t necessarily need to ask, I added, “Okay?”

She frowned. “I’m fine, but…you know, Mom’s not gonna like it.”

“She’s not here,” I replied softly, not meaning to be argumentative. It was just the way things were. I swatted a mosquito on my arm and motioned for Katelyn to head over to her tent. “I’ll be right there.”

“Good night,” she said to Maddie.

I watched her go before turning back to my sister. “You okay alone? I’ll stay.”

“It’s fine. You should go.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” She shocked me by leaning in for a hug. “Thanks, big bro.”

“For what?”

She straightened up and brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes. I caught a wet glint, but she didn’t sniff or wipe it away. “Being you…and not being Austin.”

I laughed. “I know what you mean, sis. Good night.” I started to head off, and remembered to turn around and say, “Get me if you need anything.”

“I will, but I’m good.”

I slowly walked to the front of the camp, and waited to make sure Maddie was inside her tent and zipped up before ducking into mine. I allowed myself a quick image of Katelyn, half-naked and waiting for me to join her under the tiny sleeping bag. Instead, of course, she was fully clothed and motionless. She’d straightened out John’s larger, heavier sleeping bag beside her.

A soft breath escaped her lips, and she rolled even farther over to face the thin wall of vinyl protecting us from the outside world. Beyond the vinyl, a mountain of cut branches were stacked over the top of us like a beaver dam.

If I’d had a pillow, I would’ve been asleep before my head hit it. Folded arms had to suffice.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of scratching on the tent. I jerked upright, expecting to find a raccoon trying to claw its way inside. From all around, the scratching intensified. I reached for Katelyn to keep her from jumping up, but she only moaned.

The wind howled, whistling through the clearing with an intensity I hadn’t experienced in a while. The door flap of the tent whipped in the breeze, and I finally put it all together in my muddled mind. The branches covering the tent scratched the vinyl, pressing in on the sides and making quite a racket.

I turned to Katelyn not quite ready to share my silly fear when I realized I didn’t need to. Somehow, through the building hurricane, she was still dead to the world.

It had been a little too warm to bother with pulling up the sleeping bag when I’d first stretched out. Right then, some unknown time in the middle of the night, the cool had definitely bowled in along with the storm. I rolled onto my back and folded my arms behind my head.

I waited for the thunder to come, but the wind gusts were all that materialized. I was tempted to sit up and stare through the door flap like I might’ve back home. I really loved watching a storm roll in, along with feeling the cool breeze wash over me. But I was too tired to move.

Sleep came quicker than I expected. I didn’t know how long it lasted. At some point, in the middle of the darkness, the ground shuddered like an earthquake. While I was still scrubbing my eyes, a gigantic boom shook the whole world.

Somewhere on the other side of the camp, a kid wailed.

CHAPTER 33

Katelyn shot upright. “What was that?”

I wanted to say thunder, but the crack hadn’t been there. It’d been close to the ground, and too loud not to make the sharp break that always preceded the rumble. That noise was all boom, but short rather than the elongated stormy growl.

No fewer than three more distant blasts joined the first.

“I don’t know.” I sat up beside her and crawled to the door.

The little kid across the camp continued wailing. Apparently he wasn’t an Olsen, as no one seemed to be around to console him. I stared out the door in a futile attempt to locate the child.

Katelyn’s tent faced east. Back home in the flatter land below the mountains, a pinkish-purple glow would light up the underside of dark clouds as morning broke. There in the campsite, a foggy haze was backlit by an odd orange glow. It seemed way too early for the sun to have crested the mountaintops. The reality didn’t register right away.

While I was busy thinking, someone must’ve quieted the kid. I finally headed off toward where the crying had come from. Though I had no idea what I could do to help, I took it as my duty to make sure everyone was all right.

As I moved across the camp, water droplets slid from tree leaves. Each splatter shattered an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional sobs of the kid.

I reached the tent and stopped outside. A girl’s soft voice was singing to the kid.

“Maddie?”

“He’s fine, Zach,” she replied through the vinyl. “Just got scared by the…uhm, thunder.”

“Okay, good.”

I heard footsteps swishing through the grass and turned to find Katelyn hobbling behind me. She was already looking a lot steadier on that sore leg. She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“It’s all good,” I whispered as I stepped toward her. “Maddie’s got him calmed down.”

Zippers opened one at a time across the camp, and heads poked out like prairie dogs slowly feeling safer in their surroundings.

“You think we might as well get some breakfast going?” Katelyn asked. “Looks like we’re getting an early start today.”

“Yeah. Really early,” I mumbled.

The wind picked up again, changing directions from earlier. An odd, smoky scent reached my nose. “Smells like someone already started the fire,” I said, then realized what I was saying.

A quick look confirmed the older lady and her husband weren’t moving around yet, or their middle-aged kids. I pulled Katelyn over to the edge of the camp. Though I doubted it, I asked, “Can we see Gatlinburg from here?”

She pointed in the direction of Elkmont. “Maybe down the trail. We were hiking the other way, so it’s not like I was looking back.” She paused abruptly. “Wait, why?”

The wind picked up again and I didn’t need to tell her. Her tanned face turned pale, her lips pressed tightly until whitish.

“That doesn’t smell right,” I said, though she didn’t need me to tell her that. “Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

I ran back to the middle of camp to find Maddie. She was helping a boy, maybe five or six years old, out of the tent. His eyes were red and puffy, but the crying was over.

“I need to go with Katelyn to check something out for a second.” Before she could reply, I added, “Be right back.”

“Wait-”

“Please just watch the kids, and we’ll be back as soon as we can. Just a sec, I promise.”

She gave me a cheery wave that didn’t match her grim face. She must’ve known what we were checking on. “Sure, I can watch ‘em.”

I ran back to Katelyn and grabbed her hand. She led me down the trail as fast as she could go. Not a word was spoken, even when I noticed the orange glow had faded.

With the early morning upon us, there wasn’t much definition in the woods. Twenty yards deep into the trees, everything faded into a dark gray-green blur.

The trail was surprisingly wide, and just as easy to follow. We headed up an incline about a hundred yards out of camp, and it wasn’t long before I was sucking air.

“I need to rest,” Katelyn said, saving me from having to admit it myself.

“Good idea.” I put my hands behind my head to catch my breath, mirroring her.

She lowered her eyes from the sky and noticed me copying her. A sly smile crept over her face before turning serious again.

“This is about as high as it gets.” She pointed ahead to where the trail crested. “A little farther and it breaks over into a big downhill that runs all the way to the creek.”

“Where’s the trail to the waterfall?”

“We passed that a while back.”

“Oh.”

She smiled again but quickly erased it. “Let’s get going.”

Once we hit the high point, I marveled at the drop down to the creek. It was far from vertical, but would have been quite a climb for anyone headed up to Twenty. I was impressed at the strength and determination of the campers seeing how it was still a good three miles from where they’d parked at the non-existent old town site of Elkmont. They’d lugged a lot of gear up that steep hill, but that wasn’t important to reflect on at that moment.

I gazed off to the east, hopelessly trying to force my eyes to see through bushy green mountains. There was a wide valley on the other side of the stream leading to Elkmont, but Gatlinburg was several miles off in the distance. A ridgeline and scattered knobs blocked any possible view of the town, but I thought we saw everything we needed to know.

“Is that what I think it is?” Katelyn asked.

I didn’t want to answer her. “I’m…I’m afraid so.” I shook my head as if trying to clear a bad memory and focused again on several different clouds of dark smoke rising above a distant hilltop. “That’s gotta be around the town.”

She turned even paler than before. I wrapped an arm around her waist and hoped she didn’t feel me trembling.

“What do we do?”

“They’ll be okay,” I said quickly. “They can take care of themselves.”

“And if they can’t? I mean…how do we know?”

“We can’t. We don’t.” I pulled her by the waist to steer her back toward the camp. “There’s nothing to do right now but sit back and wait.”

“That’s the worst part.”

“I know.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Nothing drove me crazier than sitting around doing nothing. Knowing nothing. And we had a big day of that in store for us.

We hiked numbly back toward the camp. Before we made it inside the clearing, the delicious scent of breakfast wafted our way. The smell of bacon frying was almost enough to make me forget about town.

Maddie came over quickly before I could forget.

“Well?”

“I don’t know, but it’s maybe not good.” I watched her eyes for a reaction.

“You think-”

A boy ran up and grabbed the tail of her shirt, begging her to go play with him. She whirled around, and happily plucked him off the ground.

Maddie headed off without her answer, and I marveled at the way the kids respected her. I never realized she was so good with the young ones. She reminded me of the typical camp counselor everyone loved. I would’ve been hopeless in her shoes.

I slumped at a table close to the cooks. It wasn’t long before the woman hollered for everyone to gather up and grab a plate.

Even though I’d had a big dinner the night before, I should’ve been starving to make up for all the other missed meals. Instead, my stomach felt like a bowl of oatmeal had turned into concrete. I hadn’t even had any oatmeal, though I knew that was soon on the agenda if we were out there much longer. I could add that to my lengthening list of things to hate, which showed no signs of ending.

I played around with my eggs with my fork, and looked up to notice Katelyn staring at me.

“You better eat,” she said.

I glanced at her plate and replied, “Same to you.” I picked up a slice of bacon and wagged it at her. “Better enjoy it while we can.”

“I wish I could. It’s the not knowing that’s killing me.”

I nodded. There was nothing else to say.

The bacon was delicious. I could usually eat a pound all by myself. Even in my concerned state, I managed to choke down a couple slices. I considered going back for more, but the way the younger kids were grabbing it up like little addicts made me back off.

“Bacon is a vegetarian’s crack,” Dad used to say. “Impossible to resist it.”

But I found a way. Greasy, salty bacon probably wasn’t the best thing for my washing machine of a stomach.

Katelyn kept staring off toward the trail. I knew she wanted to head out. I considered it strongly myself. Before we could talk about it, the cook was over looking for help. I was so desperate to keep my mind off other things, I volunteered to wash dishes.

It was either that or split firewood with her adult children. They had been less than friendly thus far, so I was almost happy to pick up a dishrag.

Sadly, my favorite distractions were non-existent, and would remain that way for an untold amount of time. I knew I would have plenty of opportunities to talk to Katelyn, which was all I’d ever hoped for. But I realized she couldn’t be my entire existence for every waking minute of the day, the week, the years…

Having her around was the biggest blessing ever, but the mundane still nagged at me. I felt a persistent, bitter sting for missing out on so many of the things we could’ve done together, such as watching movies or playing video games. As much as I made fun of Austin for gaming all day long, I had definitely enjoyed playing a couple different ones with my buddy Joe. Just not so much that my eyes crossed and it looked like I hadn’t showered in a week.

The lady handed me the last pot to dry, and stopped mid-bar in her idle humming to say, “We’ll have to get some water before dinner.”

“Where do you go?”

“John got the last batch straight from the creek,” Katelyn answered.

“The waterfall or the steep hill?”

“The hill.” Katelyn shrugged. “It’s the closest.”

“Wherever you like,” the old lady said. The way her forehead wrinkled reminded me even more of my grandmother than just her mannerisms. “I’ll need it by this afternoon so I can get to boiling.”

“To purify?”

She bobbed her head and went back to whistling. Chores were finished, and there seemed no way the older two could handle the task. They had their hands full with cooking, so I gathered up a couple buckets apiece and set off with Katelyn for the creek. There was no point waiting until later.

 “You’d think there’d be somewhere closer,” I said when we reached the top of the hill, staring off into the creek valley.

“What did you say?” Katelyn asked. She was fixated on the horizon again. I followed her eyes to the tops of green mountains, bathed in mid-morning sunlight. All the separate columns of smoke from earlier had dissipated to a haze, which I hoped was just the normal air pollution rather than a hint of fires burning somewhere in the city.

“Nothing, really. Just thinking.”

“Me, too.” She put both bucket handles in one hand and reached out for mine. I didn’t hesitate to follow suit.

We stood there a while longer. I wouldn’t say we were admiring the view, though a few days earlier it would’ve been a pretty good place to curl up on a blanket on the side of the trail for a picnic. I nudged her gently with my shoulder, and she gazed at me with those big brown eyes.

Thanks to the climb, the color had come back to her cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile, and a rosy glow framed her dimples.

“Are you gonna be able to get back up?” I asked, abruptly changing the subject. I was clumsy like that when I was nervous. Seeing how we were still standing, she shot me a confused look. “I mean your leg. Can you climb back up the hill, with water?”

“I think so.” She hopped on one leg for a second, then the other. “It really is feeling a lot better.”

“You were pretty lucky.”

“I guess a couple good things came out of this trip.”

I harrumphed, not seeing much to be happy about so far. “Like what?”

She dropped the buckets to run her hand across her damp brow. The frown appeared for a moment, but quickly disappeared. “I’m trying to think positively here.”

“Sorry.” I felt bad about pressing her on it, but it was such a strange statement. I had to know. “But seriously…like what?”

“Well, I can still walk. That’s good.”

“That’s true, I guess. Not sure how that qualifies as good, but…”

She grabbed my other arm and stepped in front of me. With a voice barely above a whisper, she added, “And I finally get to spend time with you.”

I dropped the buckets. She laughed as they clattered and started rolling downhill.

“We’d better get those,” I said weakly.

“Not yet.” Katelyn stood on her tiptoes and leaned into me.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her tightly. The moment our lips met, I was soaring. The ugly world disappeared, and I was back in the clouds again.

A shadow passed over us. Katelyn pulled away suddenly, pointing overhead. Circling lazily like a vulture was another kind of predator.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Drone.” I dragged her underneath a tree at the edge of the trail. “I hope to hell they didn’t see us.”

CHAPTER 34

“Quiet,” I told Katelyn as we hunkered under the shade of a tree, but I didn’t know why I said it. Fear makes people do strange, unpredictable things.

The drone circled a while longer. It was whisper soft. There was no telling how long it had hovered before she’d pointed it out. Not that I regretted the previous minutes with Katelyn, but I needed to keep my head in the game with threats everywhere.

The skinny white plane with the bulbous nose seemed like it was barely above the treetops. It reminded me of one of those fancy remote control planes I’d seen people flying at the park a few years back. I was convinced I could throw a rock and knock the drone out of the sky. But I wasn’t about to try. If I’d had a rifle, maybe. It would’ve been easy enough to take out, but there was no point in making ourselves known.

The drone finally sailed off like a kite to the east. I breathed a sigh of relief and let go of Katelyn. She wrapped her arms around my chest and rested against me a while longer. I wasn’t complaining, but it was time to go. Even so, I might’ve lingered before finally pulling her to her feet.

“Let’s hurry up and get that water.”

Katelyn searched for her voice and offered a feeble, “Okay.”

We gathered up our buckets and hurried off down the hill. It wasn’t as difficult to hike down as I had expected. Other than having to constantly force myself to slow down, it wasn’t like I had to pick out footholds or pay much attention to my footing in general.

I noticed Katelyn was continually checking the sky. Of course, I was too.

“It’s gone, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, right,” she retorted.

“Alright, that was a dumb thing to say.”

“Kinda, but I know what you mean.” Katelyn raised her voice to be heard over the sound of rushing water. A pile of rocks also let me know the stream was straight ahead.

Katelyn took the lead, stepping out onto a rock in the middle. The water was rolling off the mountainside, skimming over the flat stones and dropping in shallow pools. It wasn’t escalator tall like the steps I’d climbed by the old church, but it still surged and dropped around bigger rocks like any other stream.

I positioned my bucket below one of the drops and the miniature waterfall filled it in seconds. As soon as the next one was done, I set the buckets aside and took a minute to splash my face. The water was so impossibly cold.

“That feels so good.”

“It’s freezing,” Katelyn replied.

She stepped daintily off the rock, trying to keep her boots out of the water. I cupped a handful and threw it at her, soaking her shirtsleeve.

“Zach!” she shrieked. “That’s not cool.”

“Not cool at all, is it?”

She sat her buckets on the side of the stream and splashed me back. “Real funny.”

I splashed her again, and she skipped out of range.

“Just trying to cool you down,” I called after her.

“No, thanks.” She hid her body behind the nearest tree, keeping watch. “I’m cool enough.”

I surprised myself by saying, “No, you’re smokin’ hot.”

She blushed and fully retreated behind the trunk. All I could see was a soaked sleeve. Afraid I might’ve offended her, I slunk tentatively toward her.

“Katelyn?”

She burst from behind the tree and ran faster than I expected for the buckets. While I whirled around helplessly, she snatched one up and showered me like a football coach after the big game.

“Dude! That’s so not cool.”

“Not cool at all, huh?”

As she stood there looking all proud, I stalked over and tried to grab her. She kicked half-heartedly as I wrapped my arms around her waist and threw her over my shoulder.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now.”

“Zach, stop!”

“You started it.” I carried her toward the stream, and stepped out onto a rock as her voice got louder.

“Did not! You did.”

“I guess I did.” I slung her off my shoulder, letting her feet settle on the rocks. I extended a hand and said, “Truce?”

“No way.” She shoved me playfully, and I staggered backwards. As I started to fall, I grabbed her wrist. My butt slammed into the stream bed, cold water knifing through my pants. I folded onto my back as Katelyn crashed on top of me.

I spun her to the side, soaking her as thoroughly as she’d done to me. She came up sputtering.

Before she could curse me, I pulled her to her feet and dragged her out. My teeth chattered from the few seconds we’d been in the frigid water.

“Truce?” I said again with a grin.

She smacked my hand away, but quickly returned the grin. “Promise?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed her hip and scooted her closer to me. Our lips met, putting warmth back into my frozen body. A lot of warmth. Our clothes were stuck tighter than diving suits, but I worked a hand underneath her sopping wet shirt to run my fingers along her side.

She twisted her body to complement mine, and we laid back on the stream bank. A rock poked me in the side, and the bare dirt turned to mud underneath us.

We were warmed up, but soaking wet and a different kind of filthy.

I tried to run a hand through her hair to expose her neck, but the wet strands were matted. Brushing as much to the side as I could, I kissed her below the ear.

She moaned softly, hands pressed against my chest.

“Maybe we should get back,” I whispered in between kisses.

“Tell me more about smokin’ hot first,” she purred, and arched her back.

“You mean dripping wet?”

With a quick move, she rolled me onto my back and straddled my waist. She sat up, staring down at me with those suddenly bright, yet brown, eyes. “Tell me.”

I pulled my eyes from hers and ended up staring at her t-shirt. It was stuck tightly to her chest like Paper Mache.

She lifted my chin back to her face. “You were saying?”

I made her wait for it. She was probably a second away from a harrumph before I finally whispered, “Soggy or not, still the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

She sprang to her feet and offered me a hand up.

I was a swirl of emotions from the whole episode and barely managed to say, “That’s it?”

“Yeah. We need to get back…remember?”

She flashed that perfect smile before heading back to the stream to refill her bucket. I watched her every step of the way, admiring the way her clothes stuck to her in all the right places.

Her boots squished as she came back toward me, and mine joined the racket as we headed up the hill. It was a brutal climb, and we stopped several times before finally reaching the top.

At the last stop, I said, “We should go get water again sometime.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

I smiled. “I hope that little trip helped take your mind off things.”

“Yeah, for a while.” She paused before adding, “Thanks. And thanks for bringing it up again.”

“No problem.”

With a full bucket in each hand, we couldn’t lock our fingers together. We closed the last of the distance back to camp, and arrived side by side to the curious looks of our fellow campers.

Maddie was the first to come over, accompanied by a group of surgically attached kids that had grown from one to four.

“What happened to you two?”

“Tough climb,” I said. “Sweated my ass off.”

“Yeah.” She eyed us distrustfully. “I don’t think so.”

“We need to go drop off the water,” I said, and pushed our way to the kitchen area, trailed with snide remarks and kids asking Maddie if they could go swimming.

CHAPTER 35

Katelyn ran off to her tent to change clothes while I made a couple trips bringing the water buckets over to our camp cooks. The old woman looked at me suspiciously, but didn’t offer up more than a simple word of thanks. I took that as my cue to get far away from the kitchen before she put me to work.

“You gonna change?” Katelyn asked as she reemerged from her tent to find me standing there.

I shrugged my shoulders. “They’ll dry out.”

She figured out the problem, and asked, “Do you have anything else to wear?”

“Not really…well, maybe some jeans.”

She sized me up. “Wait here. I’ll get some of John’s.”

“Thanks.”

I sat on a picnic table and watched Katelyn scamper off in her new pair of pants and a dark colored shirt. It was long sleeved but rolled up to her elbows, a good choice to keep away the evening bug attacks.

As I waited, I noticed Maddie had all the kids gathered around a couple picnic tables. They were tracing leaves onto scrap paper using dirt clods. A pretty clever way to play without crayons, I thought.

Jonas was part of the kids’ group again. Despite the fall, he was doing well. I didn’t notice a bandage, and enjoyed a bit of a small victory.

I heard Katelyn coming from the sound of flip flops smacking her heels. It was a curious footwear choice for roughing it in the woods. She dumped an armful of clothes on the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. Pick whatever you want.”

“Thanks.”

I leafed through the pile and ended up with pants that were a little wide in the waist and a couple shirts that would work. First, a plain brown undershirt, then a dark green wicking type with long sleeves for bug protection.

“Underwear?” I asked, though not really serious.

“I’m not touching his stuff,” she said with a grin. She pointed at a pile of backpacks and duffel bags. “It’s back there if you really wanna share.”

“Uh, no. Good call.” I stood to go to the tent to change when I remembered one last thing. “How about socks?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She hopped up. “But only if they’re clean, right?”

“Right on.”

I went to Katelyn’s tent and stripped down to my compression shorts. I’ll give Mom credit for making me wear those. Other than with wet jeans, they were great at preventing chafing, and that was vital when hiking long distances. They’d dry out quickly too.

I dressed swiftly and scooted over to let my feet hang out the entryway. They were pale, but only slightly wrinkled. Nothing to worry about, though I didn’t have fresh boots. Mine would take forever to dry out.

Katelyn tossed me a pair of thick wool socks, which were also perfect for hiking. They might even keep my feet from getting too nasty wet.

She squeezed next to me in the doorway and reached behind us to grab something.

“It’s either these or flip flops.”

I looked at her hands at first, but quickly turned to her face to see if she was joking. “Seriously? Bunny slippers?”

“I’ll wear ‘em if you won’t.”

“Not much of a choice there,” I replied, and she scowled. It was playful, I hoped. “I don’t think either one is gonna fit…thankfully.”

She peeled off a pink flip flop and pulled on a slipper with long, bouncy ears. “They’re super comfy. Really soft.”

It was funny how every time I thought she was tough, she turned back into a girl again. A gorgeous girl, with curls that bounced as she pranced in front of the tent showing off her slippers.

“Your mom seriously let you bring those?”

“Sure…well, not that I really asked her,” she answered with a grin.

“You’re gonna get ‘em dirty.”

She slumped down next to me. “That’s okay. I mean, nothing lasts forever.”

Her unassuming statement applied to so many things that I visibly cringed. Everything slowed down. The sound of kids playing disintegrated in a swirl of dark emotions.

When the pause became too long, I finally stammered, “I guess not, huh?”

“I never was one for special blankets or teddy bears or all that,” she explained softly. “Though I’m really starting to miss home already.”

“You have no idea.” I tried my hardest to beat back the shadows that threatened to creep over my mind again. I cleared my throat and spoke more encouragingly, saying, “We’ll get back there someday.”

I clung to that belief like a lifeline, as unlikely as it seemed. I knew once hope was gone, I could easily spiral into a cold, depressing winter.

“I hope you’re right.” She turned to look at me. “We’ve got movies to watch, plenty of couch time. I always loved just thinking about having summers to hang out.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing now,” I joked.

“True, true. You know, you’re pretty good at looking at the bright side?” I considered those words while she paused for a moment. “I wish I’d met you earlier. It was tough moving to Knoxville in the middle of high school.”

“I’m sure. I couldn’t have done it.” I was certain of that, but something about what she’d said didn’t ring true. “But you…you’re so popular.”

“Not really. I mean yeah, I can talk to people or whatever, but I’m not real good at making friends. You know, close friends.”

“I’m sorry.”

She waved away the apology. “No, it’s not that. I’m fine.” She stared blankly across camp. I remained mesmerized by her sad eyes. “I survived. You know it was kinda weird having to bring John with us as old as he is. And then starting some new school when the whole country’s gone crazy.”

“So why’d you guys move?”

“My dad’s job. We were in Nashville, but it was somehow a promotion to move to Knoxville. Seemed kinda backwards to me.”

“Maybe,” I said with a chuckle. Nashville was certainly a flashier city, though the Smoky Mountains had to be an upgrade in the scenery department. “You don’t like it here?”

“It’s pretty and all, but I don’t know, it’s…”

“Never mind. That was a dumb question. With the world this screwed up, how could it be better anywhere?”

She took my hand and squeezed. “Don’t go getting all negative on me now.”

“I’m trying not to. It’s hard, though.”

I looked away to focus on the kids gathered around Maddie. She was scurrying between tables, giving advice and compliments as the little ones worked on their art project. I’d never noticed it before, but she seemed like a natural teacher. If things ever got straightened out, I was certain she’d end up teaching elementary school someday. Maybe kindergarten or first grade.

Katelyn must’ve followed my gaze. “Your sister’s really nice, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is.” I smiled at the thought, but quickly changed to a chuckle. “Totally hopeless out here in the woods, but not from a lack of Mom trying.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents are, uhm…preppers.” I swallowed a lump building in my throat, and it settled with all the other rocks in my stomach. “Well, at least my mom is. Dad just goes along.”

I couldn’t believe I admitted it, though I supposed it was more than obvious by then. I watched Katelyn out of the corner of my eyes, but she didn’t immediately react. At least not the way I expected.

“And you think they’re crazy?”

“And embarrassing.” Horribly, horribly embarrassing.

“Let me tell you a secret.” She leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Both of my parents are preppers too. They’re just newer at it.”

“Really?” While they seemed like serious people, nothing obviously painted them as the crazy doomsday prepper brand to me.

“To be honest, they’re not that outdoorsy. They’re citified preppers.”

“Then why aren’t you hiding out in the city somewhere? Maybe locked up in your basement and scavenging supplies from abandoned buildings.”

She smirked and said, “Sunning Bear and some other lady convinced Mom to hide out in the park.”

Marisol. I flashed back to her sprawled in front of the church, and cleared my throat to shake off the image.

“My mom helped do that?”

“Yep.”

“I mean I guess I knew they talked on the computer. The way they greeted each other it seemed like they were old friends.”

Katelyn shrugged. “That’s the prepper site forums, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I gestured around the camp, and couldn’t help but admire the organization. Everything we’d survived so far was pretty remarkable, but I still had to give my parents one last jab. “Bunch of kooks, huh?”

Katelyn smiled and leaned her head on my shoulder. “I guess we were wrong.”

“Yeah, but we don’t need to tell them that.”

CHAPTER 36

The afternoon didn’t exactly fly by. At one point, I’d dozed off and woke up to find Katelyn helping Maddie with the younger kids. It was close to dinnertime, and they were gathered in the open space between tents playing some kind of relay-type games like a school field day.

Egg toss was the current event. Fortunately, Mom wasn’t around to see that. She’d have freaked if she saw us wasting the precious few eggs we had left. The older lady and her husband were chill by comparison. Though they probably should’ve been starting supper, they sat at a picnic table at the edge of the competition field and cheered on both teams. The other two adults were nowhere to be found.

Maddie was so relaxed. She had a giant smile as she ran back and forth between the groups giving them encouragements. Katelyn was right behind her, looking mildly harried by all the activity, but definitely having fun. It had to feel good to laugh for a change.

 I sat back and watched Jonas’ team win the egg toss before pulling my boots on and climbing to my feet. The socks helped, but the moisture instantly seeped through them. Rather than groan, I laughed at the thought that I could literally pickle my feet if I added some of Mom’s special salt to my boots. She might’ve even been impressed, given her penchant for nasty concoctions such as the pickled eggs, green tomatoes, and okra.

My muscles ached as I strolled across the camp toward the teams. Maddie was talking to Katelyn about what to do for the next game. They startled when I said, “How about three-legged races?”

“Whoa, Zach!” Maddie clutched a hand to her chest. “You’re back from the dead.”

“About time,” Katelyn added. I noticed her subtly slide over closer to me, and my hand almost involuntarily stretched out to grab hers.

“We’ve done sack races,” Maddie said, finally answering my question.

“How about the wheelbarrow thing?” Katelyn looked at me curiously, so I added, “The one where you hold their ankles and the wheelbarrow kid uses his hands to kinda like crawl.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I know what you mean. I don’t think they’ve done that one yet.”

“We can try it,” Maddie said. “You wanna help?”

“Sure,” I said begrudgingly. I poked Katelyn in the side with my free hand. “You’re my partner.”

“We’re gonna do it?”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”

Maddie gathered up the other kids and started explaining the rules to them. I pulled Katelyn aside to discuss strategy.

“We’re not goin’ easy on these guys,” I said. “We’re gonna smoke the field.”

Her eyes narrowed, though I caught the trace of a grin. “You really need to beat a bunch of kids? Whatever happened to letting ‘em win?”

“Hard lessons,” I said, mostly joking. “We can’t baby ‘em.”

“I think they’ve been through enough.”

Though it was the truth, she didn’t convince me to keep from giving it my all.

Maddie lined everyone up on the east side of camp and headed off to the west to a finish line she drew on the ground with her boot. Katelyn got into position on the ground in front of me, and I bent over to grab her ankles. While we waited for Maddie to start the count, I made grumbling, zooming car sounds and furrowed my brow until my eyes squinted in a paper thin line.

Jonas and his partner looked a little freaked out by my pretend intensity. I pointed two fingers at my eyes and turned them on him to let him know I was watching. He grinned.

“You guys are going down,” I taunted all the youngsters playfully.

“Yeah, right,” someone smarted off from the far end of the line.

“We’ll see,” I replied, but missed Maddie starting the three count. She was only to two when the other racers took off. “Hey! Cheaters.”

I pushed Katelyn forward, and she jerkily put one hand in front of the other. With her long body, we easily caught up to the others before they were halfway across the campsite.

“Go! Go! Go!” I shouted.

“I’m trying,” she said, but stumbled again. I ended up pushing too hard. Her arm buckled and her shoulder plowed into the ground. I kept going, and slid on a knee to keep from landing all the way on top of her. The other kids raced on.

Jonas stared at us with triumphantly raised arms from the finish line while I untangled my legs from Katelyn’s with a groan.

“Nice job, Zach,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Same to you, Katie,” I shot back. “We lost to a bunch of first graders.”

“What did you call me?”

The intensity of the question made me pause before saying, “Katie.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“John.” My fake frown turned into a real one. “Was that wrong?”

“No, it’s just most people call me Kate.” She looked into my eyes and leaned in until her lips were millimeters away from mine. “I don’t mind whatever as long as you call me something.”

“How about girlfriend?”

She scooted back a fraction. “I kinda thought I was.”

I panicked but tried to play it off nonchalantly. “Of course, of course. That’s what I meant.”

“Very smooth,” she said. “Now help me up, okay?”

“Sure thing, Katie.”

She grinned and said, “I can think up a couple nicknames for you.”

“I’ll bet you could. Let’s save that for later.”

“You’re no fun,” she teased.

I pointed toward the old lady. She’d left her seat to go to the kitchen. “I think Granny needs your help over there.”

She jerked my arm, dragging me to the back of camp with her. “Then you’re helping too.”

I followed reluctantly and ended up getting assigned a sack of potatoes. “Peel those up, please,” the woman demanded, and I found myself a spot at the closest table.

“Is there a cutting board?” I asked, remembering that we’d always used one at home or Mom would flip out about scratches on her countertops. It reminded me that she was still gone to town, and guilt seeped into my body like the cold once the sun sank below the hills. I’d been playing around all day, and couldn’t believe I’d temporarily forgotten about the adults, particularly since they were late. At least Katelyn was good at keeping my mind off other, darker things.

“Just use the table,” the woman was saying as I refocused. She turned back to my girlfriend to give her something to work on.

I interrupted one more time. “How about one of those peeler things?”

“That’s what the knife’s for,” she said sharply and shook her head.

Katelyn made a face at me and mouthed, “Duh.”

I sliced off the end of the closest potato and threw it at her. She ducked and stuck her tongue out. If the old lady hadn’t been around, I would’ve left my seat to do something unkind.

I probably took a lot longer and wasted more potato than I was supposed to, but they were hard to peel with a knife. The woman had come over clucking her tongue and shaking her head more than once, but I finally got the job wrapped up.

Granny pointed to a cast iron pot sitting on top of a gas burner. “Slice those up thin, and bring them over to the grease.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I lost track of Katelyn while I went to work on the slicing. They came out in all sorts of weird sizes from triangular to paper thin to pencil thick, but I finally got an approving nod from Granny when I finished.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” she said. Her wrinkles deepened as she dropped the homemade chips into the hot grease, and the calm liquid bubbled fiercely. “I’d say it’s plenty hot.”

I nodded, and took a step back to keep from being splattered. Flaming oil was serious stuff, and it gave me an idea.

Katelyn stepped out from behind the supply tent with an armload of plastic plates and dish rags for napkins.

“C’mere,” I said softly.

She deposited the fine china on the table next to Granny and stepped over.

I pointed at the fryer. “Do you have more propane bottles?”

“Yeah, I think so. Both sizes.”

“A lot?”

“I guess. There’s at least three or four more of the big ones back there.” She gestured behind the supply tent, and paused to scratch her head. “But, you know, it seems like we had more than that yesterday.”

“Really? How many?”

“Like twice as many. I can’t remember.”

That got me wondering if our parents had come up with the same idea. “You think our folks took ‘em with them?”

“I didn’t notice. Anyway, we’ve still got a ton of those little ones.” She held her hands out to make the football shape of the little green ones like the portable bottle Austin had brought over with us.

“Perfect. Those could come in handy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

“If it comes to it, the soldiers aren’t the only ones who can use bombs.”

CHAPTER 37

Dinner was another solid meal, but it set just about as hard in my stomach. I should’ve expected it. Once the games and dinner chores were over, the doubts crept back in again—along with the fear of drones.

I spent a lot of time looking at the sky, wishing I had something useful to occupy my thoughts. It was a calm evening, completely in contrast with the storm raging in my mind. I thought maybe starting a soothing campfire would do the trick, but I knew I could only stare at the glowing coals for so long. I wouldn’t be able to keep the darker thoughts away no matter what I tried.

Even if a little fire would’ve calmed my nerves, we’d already decided not to waste the wood. Granted there was a forest of potential firewood surrounding us, but not much had been done to split it yet other than the Olsen family’s attempt during the daylight hours. If they had been friendlier, I might’ve considered grabbing an axe and helping out. Even Katelyn seemed apprehensive of those two, who sat off at the edge of camp, still keeping to themselves.

I supposed each person dealt with the challenges differently. Some clammed up, while others seemed to babble for the sake of making noise. Rather than dwell on our current company, or lack thereof, I found myself wondering why the other adults hadn’t returned.

I sat on my hands at the picnic table and kicked a pebble with my boot. A muttered curse snuck out along with an exaggerated exhale.

“What are you thinking?” Katelyn asked in response to my not-so-subtle invitation to talk.

“You really wanna know?”

She looked tired, but probably as much mentally exhausted as physical. At least that’s how I felt, though my sore legs and aching back were giving my brain a run for the money.

“Of course,” Katelyn replied softly.

“That we need to leave.” I shot a quick glance toward Maddie. She was trying to corral the little kids for story time. “I’m still thinking about that smoke. We’ve gotta go find the others.”

“They said they’ll be back. It should’ve been sooner, but…” Her reply contained the same lack of confidence I felt. We needed to be doing something. Sitting around wasn’t good for me. I had to know what was going on.

“Maybe we don’t have to go all the way to town. I just need to get outta here for a while.”

“I get that. But what if we miss ‘em? We could go off one way, and they’d come back a different one. One of a thousand. It’s a huge park.”

“Sure. That’s possible, but maybe not that likely.”

She shook her head. “How so?”

“Hear me out. There’s only one road into town, and that’s the big highway from Gatlinburg to Cherokee. Surely they’ll try to get into the city that way.” An image of the park map ran through my head. It was easy to remember the best route seeing how I was more familiar with the park closer to Gatlinburg. “And the only way from here to there is the trail to Elkmont, then on a side road that turns into Little River Road. And that one runs out to the main highway.”

“I guess. Makes sense as long as you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. I can get us to town. That’s not a problem.” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “I just…I just have a bad feeling about that smoke.”

I got the impression she was about to come over to my side, but the doubts were keeping her rooted to camp. She paused for a long time before saying, “But what can we do?”

“Maybe nothing. But I’d rather see for myself than wait here.”

“I get that. I wouldn’t mind…”

“Maddie’s got everything under control here.” I gestured over to where she sat at a table, the kids gathered around to listen to her read a story. “She can get them to sleep while we roll out, and,” I scoffed, “the Olsens will never know we’ve left.”

“Maybe.”

I looked at the western horizon and was unsurprised to find the sun below the ridgeline. “It’s a good time to go. A little daylight for the first part, and darkness for cover when we get close.”

“My mom will freak if she gets back and I’m gone,” Katelyn said, throwing up her last line of defenses.

“Mine, too.” I flashed a rogue grin. “They’ll get over it.”

“They’ll be pissed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” I retorted.

She frowned. “I’m not like that. I don’t get in trouble…much.”

“Me, either.” I leaned over to retie my boots. “C’mon, let’s do this.”

“Fine,” she huffed, “but you’re taking the heat.”

I had to tease her. “Are you so easily persuaded?”

She slugged me on the shoulder. “Very funny. I’m not answering that.”

I hopped up from the table and offered her a hand. At my suggestion, we headed off to the kitchen area to gather up a few supplies for the hike. We each grabbed a couple granola bars and an apple.

Granny looked at us curiously, but didn’t offer more than a nod as we slipped the granola into our pockets. Her husband dozed with his head down on the picnic table, and she went back to weaving together a couple rolls of colorful yarn into an elaborate pattern. If we camped out there long enough, she’d have enough scarves and mittens made for everyone. I figured we might need them eventually, and reminded myself to ask her later to make me a blanket.

As we cut back across camp to grab water bottles, I veered over toward the outhouse. Maddie had the kids lined up for bathroom break, though it seemed the boys preferred peeing in the woods to the stink house. I couldn’t blame them.

“We’ll be back, sis.”

“Where are you going?”

I pulled her over to the side and let her in on my plans. Surprisingly, her reaction seemed no worse than when I’d told her we were going to get water.

“Just be careful.”

I tried out the rogue grin on her too. “You know me. My middle name’s careful.”

“I thought it was dumbass.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Yeah, that’s what Austin says,” I scoffed. “We’ll see what happens after I save his sorry butt.”

Maddie’s eyes narrowed and she returned to serious. Not terrified, but concerned. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Stupid’s my middle…” I quit smiling and found myself giving her a hug. “Don’t worry, sis. We’ll be extra careful.”

“You better.” She looked back over at the kids. They’d started to get a little rowdy without her supervision. “I should go, okay?”

I nodded, the bobbing of my head driving nails into my stomach. I hated to leave Maddie behind, but I sure didn’t want her with me either. We needed to move quickly and quietly, not slow and whiny.

I motioned for Katelyn to start walking and met up with her at the edge of camp.

“Back down the trail one more time, then I finally get to explore new territory.”

“You okay?” Katelyn asked, seeing through my false bravado.

“Yeah.” I took one last look at camp before it disappeared. “Just feeling bad about leaving Maddie behind with the kids again.”

“It’s for the best.” She paused, and I heard her gulp over the sounds of our boots pounding the ground. “I wouldn’t mind staying back with her.”

I slowed. “You can.”

“No, that’s not really what I meant. Besides, we’re a team now, right?”

“I thought it was boyfriend girlfriend,” I said, teasing her about our earlier conversation.

“Team’s better than that, silly. Don’t forget it.”

She took off walking faster, and I had to jog for a moment to catch up. In no time, we crested the hill and started down the steep trail to the creek.

We went ahead and ate our apples as we hiked. I couldn’t stuff mine in the pocket of my borrowed pants, and there wasn’t any point carrying it around all night. As I munched on the apple, I thought about the trail ahead.

I ran through a bunch of different scenarios in my head, trying to plan an alternate route should we run into unexpected trouble. I regretted not having a copy of the park map, since my father had run off with the only one I’d seen. I should’ve asked Katelyn if she knew where there might have been another one before we’d left, but I’d been too excited that she’d actually agreed to go with me. Until she’d cracked, I’d figured we were stuck in camp all night waiting.

“Looking for something?” she asked, apparently noticing the way I double checked every pocket hoping directions would magically appear.

“I really wish we had a map.”

“I thought you said you knew where we were going?” She eyed me suspiciously. “You made it sound awfully simple.”

“It is…for real.” I hesitated as I tried to hide my bigger concerns behind something believable, but less concerning. “I promise I know how to get there from Elkmont. I just, uhm, kinda don’t know where that first turn is at. I’m good after that.”

I mentally kicked myself for hiding the truth from her, but justified it by not wanting to alarm her.

“Yeah, that’s easy.” She pointed beyond the pile of rock denoting the stream. “The trail’s not too far past on the other side.”

“Jack’s Creek?” I asked, trying to remember how Dad had described it earlier.

“Jake’s Creek. We’ll take the trail in to where we parked.”

I nodded confidently. “Perfect.”

We crossed the creek with a careful choosing of rocks, meaning my socks remained only slightly damp. My forehead was speckled with moisture too, like standing in the spray of a waterfall.

The sun inched farther away by the second, sending cooler nighttime air our way. I figured on at most an hour of daylight, but it turned out to be longer than my estimate.

We took the Jake’s Creek Trail and hiked at most a half mile before the woods suddenly opened up in front of us.

It wasn’t a bare patch without trees. Rather, there were just a few giant shade trees spread out over a vast area. In many ways, it was similar to our shaded clearing back at site Twenty, but much larger in scale.

“What’s that?” I asked as we continued toward the clearing. My eyes scanned as far as they could see, which was becoming increasingly less by the step.

“There’s a huge campsite here. A real one, with roads and everything.” Before I could ask, she added, “My mom said it was way too close to civilization to stay here. That’s why we took off for the woods.”

“I can see that,” I said, and moments later I took my first step out onto a paved road. We stood at the edge of the asphalt and stared into the camp. There were concrete pads where families might’ve once parked campers. Next to those, each spot had a picnic table and a built-in iron grill box mounted on a pole. At initial estimate, there could’ve been a hundred or more.

“Huge campsite, huh?” I whispered.

“You ever stay in one like this?”

“No. Mom said they’re too soft, too citified. She always made us stay at primitive sites, kinda like Twenty.”

“Oh, well that sucks.” Katelyn edged over to the side of the road and slowly began walking along the fringe of the deserted campsite. “If there wasn’t a hotel close by, we might’ve considered staying in a place like this. Maybe.”

I never assumed she was super outdoorsy, not that it mattered to me. Mom might’ve thought Katelyn was too soft and suburbanized for us, but I didn’t let those kinds of comments change my mind. No one else was responsible for making me happy or telling me what I liked. That was my job.

“C’mon,” Katelyn said as she took my hand. She wisely led us off the main road onto a narrow one-lane road, also paved, that ran past each of the little campsites.

It should’ve been crowded during a normal summer. I imagined hundreds of people packed into that space—cooking, laughing and playing games. The noise of kids goofing off in the nearby creek and metal clinking as people threw washers; adults sitting in pop-up chairs around the picnic table pretending to be great outdoorsmen as they cooked over a charcoal fire. Mom would’ve ridiculed them, but it sounded more fun than hiking a half dozen miles to get to some cleared off spot in the middle of nowhere, like our new home. Prepperville.

“There’s the shower house,” Katelyn said. She pointed ahead at a short block building off the side of the road. The architecture screamed eons ago, with thin cloudy windows that probably didn’t open and beaten up wooden shingles covering the roof. But at least they had facilities.

We were only a couple pad sites short of the building when the daylight finally gave out. The moon returned, neatly sliced in half, and contributed a measure of light. We stopped to rest at the side of the shower house underneath the narrow overhang. Broken concrete sidewalk surrounded the little structure, leading to doors at both ends for men and women.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand absently over the smooth blocks. They reminded me of the halls in school, only with darker paint adding to the gloom of dusk in the forest. I closed my eyes and envisioned my high school, probably still mostly bright and cheerful—but empty. Joe wouldn’t have a place to clown around between classes. Like a lost puzzle piece, the emptiness would remain for longer than just summer vacation.

“You hear that?” Katelyn whispered, bringing me back to the present.

I concentrated, but shook my head. Then I heard it. On the far side of the building, leaves rustled, and my body tensed up, alarm bells blaring in my head. Rather than ignoring them like school, I took the warning seriously.

Katelyn grabbed my wrist, and I felt her gradually pull as if she was gearing up to run. My feet were concrete blocks, though. I was rooted, staring at the far end of the building.

 A shadow stepped out into the open.

CHAPTER 38

The shape lumbered across the sidewalk, moving on all fours to cross the road. Even so, I remained frozen.

Katelyn’s voice cracked as she whispered, “Bear?”

“Yeah. A hungry one, and I don’t want to be dinner.” I held an arm out to keep her behind me, though it was unlikely she was going anywhere but backwards.

“There’s nothing for him to scavenge around here.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Every campsite had bear-proof dumpsters, but people were always slobs leaving trash sitting around. I supposed not having the litterers around anymore was one small benefit of the national collapse. “Surely he’s learned that by now.”

Back in the park’s prime, intentionally feeding the bears was serious business. We’d all seen the signs around the campsites and trailheads:  A Fed Bear is a Dead Bear. To me, Fed and Dead went together in a way they never had before.

“Let him go, then we’ll get outta here.”

Katelyn released her iron grip on my arm, and leaned in to rest her head on my shoulder. We watched as the bear ambled through the campsite without bothering to stop for more than a second at the big metal dumpster tucked between two sites.

“Nothing here, that’s for sure.” Katelyn kneeled to adjust the laces on her boots. “Not for us either. Let’s go.”

That was true. I assumed the faucets were turned off inside the building, and we didn’t really need water anyway. A real shower might’ve been nice someday, though the waterfall would be a whole lot more enjoyable—injuries aside. At least until the novelty wore off and I needed some scalding water to make me feel human again.

I kept the bear’s dark shadow in my peripheral vision as we started moving again. While its blackness faded into the even deeper darkness of the forest, we hiked through the middle part of camp and kept on going.

By the time we reached the far end of the site to stare at nothing but winding highway ahead, I realized Elkmont wasn’t really a town. It was the campsite and nothing more. Not that I thought it would be, since no one lived in National Parks. But I thought there might be a cluster of old cabins, or a historic little one room schoolhouse or church.

“So where’d you guys park your vehicles at?”

Katelyn pointed behind us toward the creek. It wasn’t far from where the bear had cut in front of us. “Just off the camp road. There’s a short stretch of gravel leading from the campsites down to the creek. Dad pulled off in there.” She looked at me curiously. “You didn’t notice?”

“No, not even the road.” Of course, it was pitch black.

“Good. Guess he covered them up well enough.”

So she hoped, I thought. There was no telling if there had been visitors already. I suspected not, but I also hadn’t expected being found hiding out at the church within hours of getting there. Somehow Campsite Twenty had been spared, which probably had a good deal to do with being off any kind of roadway. But there was still danger everywhere.

Despite that fact, we stuck to hiking on the narrow asphalt. It was simply faster, and I didn’t have the energy to spare fighting the brush. So we followed a ridiculously curvy two-lane road along the creek for more than a mile. It was a gentle downhill the whole way, but that didn’t make it any less stressful. With every strange noise or odd glint, I readied myself to dive off the road and drag Katelyn behind me.

Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary on the lonely side road leading from Elkmont. By the time we hit Little River Road, one of the bigger roads cutting through the park at the bottom of the hill, my feet were burning. The dampness didn’t do anything to quench that, and my legs were stiffening.

I dragged a tired Katelyn off the road into the ditch to rest. There was still quite a distance left to Gatlinburg, but we could make it in a few hours. Definitely well before daylight.

“You holding up okay?” I asked before taking the first of several long drinks.

“Yeah.”

I wished there was more to say. But, no matter how badly I wanted to change things, we weren’t on a leisurely walk home from school. Words were wasted energy.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Now’s fine,” she said. “We’ve got a long way, right?”

I offered her a hand to pull her back up onto the road. “A few more miles.”

“Great.” She scuffed her boots on the pavement and took off at a brisk pace. “Maybe we should’ve taken a car.”

“Trust me, I thought about it…a lot.”

I matched her step for step, my eyes sweeping the road in front of us, and constantly checking behind us to make sure no one flew up unnoticed.

She turned around to find the crooked side road to Elkmont had already faded from view. “We could go back…”

I didn’t have the heart to disagree with her. I paused to reconsider for the hundredth time. We could run lights off, though a moonlight glint might give us away. The bigger problem was what would happen when we ran into someone. But we could ditch the car and take off running.

“That’s a dumb idea,” she said. “No point tipping anyone off.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Maybe not.”

“C’mon, Zach.” She pulled me down the road. “We hiked this far.”

“Alright. But tell you what…I’m not looking forward to hiking back here tonight.”

“Then we’ll steal a car in Gatlinburg.” A maniacal grin matched her unexpected tone.

“Good call.”

My mind ran through all sorts of different scenarios as we closed on the town. I saw us sneaking through deserted streets, marveling at crumbled buildings. That is when we weren’t hiding for our lives, creeping from building to building like rats.

I don’t know how long we walked, but my feet definitely knew it was something they weren’t ready for. Between the stress of constantly checking behind, and ahead, of us and the mental stress of not knowing what was to come, I dragged my boots to a halt in the middle of the road.

Katelyn’s shoulders hunched forward, and she hung her head. She looked at me curiously through her eyelashes, but appeared to have no more strength left than I had.

Trees towered over us, mocking our broken bodies. The canopy closed over the road, leaving us in an extra dark little valley with the moonlight choked out.

My voice cracked as I tried to say, “Break time.”

Katelyn nodded and shuffled to the side of the road. She started to climb into the roadside ditch when I stopped her.

“I’m sitting here,” I said, and slumped on the side of the road. My back was so stiff I couldn’t have pulled off my boots without sitting down. Even so, it was a challenge.

“I should’ve brought more socks,” I whispered.

“Heard that.” Katelyn grimaced as she took off her boots too.

I bumped her teasingly with my shoulder. “Whew, your dogs are barking.”

“You took yours off first.” Her eyes narrowed. “Sure that’s not your own?”

I laughed weakly. “Of course it is. God they stink from my wet boots. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure mine aren’t pretty either.”

There wasn’t anything that wasn’t pretty about Katelyn, but I resisted the urge to kid her about that. Instead, I struggled to pull off damp socks and let the cooling night air work its way between my soggy toes.

I tried to squeeze water out of my socks like a washrag, but the moisture was more allover than dripping. Just enough to turn my toes to prunes, and about as nasty.

A little breeze kicked up, swaying the trees gently, and a different kind of odor registered in my nose. It reminded me of campfire, but with an edge I couldn’t quite place. Thankfully not burning trash like our supplies behind the church, but just a little off.

“You smell that?” I asked Katelyn.

“You still talking about feet?” All joking stopped abruptly and she turned to me, sniffing the air. “I just got a whiff. It…it reminds me of an old fire.”

“That’s it. Something burned out, like for a day or two.” Though hardly possible to be jumpier than I’d already been, I froze in place, letting only my eyes search around for a clue—not that I could make out much. The idea that we could be close to an active camp, or at least one recently used, set me so far on edge that my emotions teetered.

The breeze died, but the charred smell lingered in the back of my nose.

“Is that coming from town?” Katelyn asked. She closed her eyes as if that would make her smell better.

“You would think so, but I’m not sure.” I closed my eyes too, but only for a second. “It seems close, really close, and we still have a little ways to go. Not far, but…”

She trembled almost imperceptibly. I reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’re fine.”

I shifted over next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t believe it, but it helps to hear you say that.”

It was time to change the subject. “How about we have a snack?”

I pulled a granola bar out of my back pocket and ripped it open. It was warm from body heat, giving it a mushy texture and a flavor less than appetizing. But I happily choked down a little energy and tried to keep my mind off the old fire.

Katelyn finished up hers as I unclipped a water bottle to wash down sticky granola bits.

“No point sitting here. Just another minute and we’ll get going,” I said.

“That’s fine.” She stared at the sky as if she was checking the time by the moon, only the leaves covered us like a high-ceilinged tent. “I guess so far, so good, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s been awful quiet so far.” But I had a feeling that was about to change. “Like I was saying, not too much farther.”

“You still wanna walk along the road?”

“For a little while.” I pointed ahead through the dark, leafy tunnel to what looked like a narrow opening. “I think I might be seeing the main road way up there.”

“Like the one through the middle of the park…going to North Carolina?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It could be busier,” she said, tentatively.

“Maybe. We’ll have to be even more careful.” I stopped talking while another gentle breeze rolled through the trees. The cool air felt good on my toes. “At least everything seems pretty dead so far.”

That was probably a poor choice of words. Katelyn paused before whispering, “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

I knew better than to think it would.

We pulled our socks and boots on and rose to our feet with shared groans. Katelyn looked at me with dark eyes that blended into the forest around us. They stood in contrast to her pale cheeks, which shone as we worked our way toward the main highway where the tree cover thinned somewhat.

As we drew closer to the intersection, the burned-out smell intensified. Convinced that it couldn’t be coming from town, I searched all directions, mostly left and right up into the dark woods. Nothing stood out.

“What’s that black spot?” Katelyn asked, and I turned from the side to see her pointing at the road ahead.

“Oh…”

She moved to crouch, but I pulled her up, saying, “I think the origin of that smell.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

At my beckoning, she hurried along beside me, and we soon came to a stop at a gap in the road. This was no simple pothole. From our right, a stream rolled off the mountain above to join a creek to our left, and all that remained of an old timber bridge was some broken up asphalt and rock in the bottom of the newly-formed chasm.

“Remember the missing propane tanks?” I asked. “I think they blew the bridge.”

Katelyn nodded. “Huh. So it was all wooden underneath, right, and the smoke we saw from camp was the bridge burning?”

“I think so. Probably several of them. I saw a bunch of different columns of smoke rising.”

“So it wasn’t the town at all. That’s a relief, I think.”

“Yeah it is. Now we just need to get across here.”

The stream ran about ten feet below the pavement, but it was easy enough to climb down to the bottom. The sides of the streambank were steep, but not vertical. Vehicles definitely couldn’t cross; however, we had little trouble sliding down the bank, skipping over a few rocks and asphalt rubble, and climbing back up the other side.

After a deep breath that smelled of scorched wood, I turned to face away from the chasm, wondering exactly why our parents had blown the bridge. Obviously, they’d wanted to keep the rangers and anyone else from using the roads, but I couldn’t grasp the timing. It seemed strange to blow the bridges before going into town rather than afterwards.

Katelyn took my hand. Our fingers interlocked, and with a semi-confident nod, we continued on toward the main highway. We hugged the edge of the pavement, going single file, but I kept hold of her to make sure she was right behind me.

“Be ready for anything,” I said as we finally paused just short of the intersection. It wasn’t much wider than the road we were on, but there was a little more shoulder. I took a quick look both ways and turned the corner to walk along the rock platform lining the travel lanes.

Our boots made a racket on the gravel, jarring me at first. Walking the asphalt hadn’t been quiet, but the scuffing and crunching on the gravel was disconcerting. I was convinced I wouldn’t hear anyone driving up behind us, and ended up turning around often, sometimes making Katelyn run up on my heels.

She finally stopped to ask, “You wanna stay back in the woods?”

I shrugged a shoulder and kept plodding toward town. “Not really.” We were making much better time along the road.

“I can watch behind us if you’ll keep going.”

“Teamwork?” I kidded.

She squeezed my hand. “Yeah, that’s right.”

The road dropped rapidly, bringing us from the mountaintops toward the valley where Gatlinburg was nestled. I knew from past trips that the town was long and narrow. Only a few streets bordered each side of the main strip running through town before the mountains closed in around it.

We arrived on the outskirts of town fairly quickly, and I slowed our pace looking and listening for any sign of life. I expected to see streetlights poking through the trees, but we were still several turns away from a clear view. The streets were quiet as well. No music or raised voices traveled to us from the bars, and no horns or tires squealed in the normal crush of people going back to hotels after a night out on the town.

We finally rounded the last turn, lining us up with the strip. There was nothing. Not even a stray dog. We’d come so far hoping to find our parents, to help out if necessary, but there were no signs of life. I stood there growing discouraged at what seemed like a wasted trip.

I turned to Katelyn to see if she wanted to venture into town or hang back in the woods. Before I could ask, it all changed in a blur.

CHAPTER 39

Headlights popped on from a few blocks down the strip. I dove off the highway into the woods, pulling Katelyn with me. There was no ditch to stumble into this time. Instead, we slammed our way through the brush along the roadside, putting several tree trunks between us and the strip.

Red and blue lights flashed from the top of the vehicle. My stomach sank. It was a feeling so much worse than a cop pulling behind a driver to write a speeding ticket. I thought I’d have to pick my stomach up off the ground. But there was no time.

I twisted to run deeper into the woods.

“Hold on,” Katelyn whispered harshly and stood her ground.

“What?”

She crouched beside a giant tree and pointed toward town. I followed her finger to the flashing lights. I crept next to her and lifted a branch to spot the vehicle turned crossways in the middle of the strip, blocking traffic in both directions. Only there were no other vehicles.

Against my better judgment, we slunk forward. I wasn’t about to let Katelyn run off by herself.

Out of the blackness, behind the police car, a dark cloud built on the street. Its edges were formless, shifting like an amoeba. And then it attacked.

Flames lit up across the shape, transforming it into an angry, torch-carrying mob. Gunshots rang out, flashes and thunderous reports piercing the once quiet night. Someone in the crowd stumbled, but the amoeba enveloped that person’s place and continued on.

I watched with fascinated anxiety as the flaming torches went flying toward the police car. Flames roared to life as the bottles shattered against the pavement. One hit the car with a giant metallic clunk, and it was enveloped in a firestorm.

The motor revved as the cop tried to flee. The flaming car shot across the road errantly, missed the turn, and ended up burying itself in one of several shuttered souvenir shops lining the strip. The crowd roared.

A second police car rounded a corner in front of us, and lined up to block the mob. The driver took one look at the crowd and must’ve panicked. While his buddy was parked inside a shop barbecuing, the new arrival bailed. Reverse lights came on, tires squealed, as the car promptly fled from the direction it’d come.

The roar built to a deafening volume. There had to be at least forty, maybe fifty, people filling the street, all yelling. Some broke off from the sides of the rebel monster to check out the vacant buildings lining the road.

I found myself standing, inching my way toward town, when Katelyn stopped me in my tracks.

“Zach, there’s your mom.”

“No way. Where?”

She pointed at a figure toward the front of the group.

The building impaled by the first police car was rapidly catching fire. The flames threw an orange glow over the crowd, and my eyes settled on my mother leading the rebellion up the street toward us.

“I can’t find my folks,” Katelyn said, panicking.

“We’ll find ‘em. Let’s go.”

I tugged on her hand, and lunged through the brush toward the strip. My eyes alternated between searching the crowd and watching where I was going, making me stumble on a root. I jerked Katelyn’s arm unintentionally, and she cried out.

“You okay?”

“It’s my leg,” she said, surprising me. “I kinda twisted it.”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry.” I watched her try to put weight on the same leg she’d hurt at the waterfall, and pull it back sharply. “You were doing so good too. I hardly noticed you limping the whole hike.”

“You’ll see it now.” She grimaced and shook her head like she was steeling her mind. “I’ll be fine.”

I offered up a shoulder, and she waved me off. So I slowed down anyway, and spun around to find a faster path out of the woods to the pavement. Katelyn kept up, though I thought I heard the occasional sharp intake of air over the noise of the crowd in the street.

We stepped out of the woods as the mob neared the last couple buildings on the strip. Someone pointed our direction, and several heads turned. I froze, realizing we’d surprised them.

A flash of metal alerted me to their weapons, shaking me out of the paralysis.

“Mom! Mom! It’s us!”

My mother held her arms out wide to hold back the crowd. Someone shushed them, and the volume died down to a dull roar. I yelled again, and her face twisted.

I was too tired to break into a run, and Katelyn wasn’t going anywhere fast. So we stumbled down the street into the edge of town as several people ran toward us. Mom first, then my dad. Austin was right behind with another man following him, who clutched at his upper arm.

Mom wrapped me in a giant, almost embarrassing hug, but I didn’t complain.

“What are you doing here?” she said sternly.

“You’re a day late.”

“Not really. More like a half.”

“Whatever,” I said, letting irritation bleed into my earlier relief. “That’s still late.”

“Well, sorry,” she replied unconvincingly. “We ended up rendezvousing with a big bunch of other folks, and had to do a little more tactical planning before we could pull off the operation.”

“Huh? What?” I said, baffled by all the military-speak, not to mention the presence of so many other people.

Dad patted my shoulder while Austin stood aloof. He eyed me curiously, but didn’t speak as Mom and Dad began grilling me harder about what we were doing in town.

I noticed Katelyn had moved off to talk to the injured man next to Austin. With his hat off, it took me a moment to recognize him as her father. I waved myself away from the interrogation to check on her.

Her face was twisted in despair, and my heart melted. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and listened to her dad say, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Despite his words, a blood stain grew on his shirtsleeve, and his face took an ashen pallor. His next words explained the real reason for Katelyn’s concern. “We’ll find her, kiddo.”

She turned to me with eyes glistening with tears. I hugged her tightly and the tears soaked through my shirt. “She’s missing, Zach.”

I stroked her hair and held her close, myself torn apart while her body was wracked with sobs. When she finally looked up, I searched for a tissue. Of course, I had nothing. Mom was better prepared.

“We’re sorry, hon. We’re gonna find her,” she told Katelyn as she handed her a folded bandana. Then she fished out another and handed it to Katelyn’s dad. “We’d better wrap that arm up.”

The rest of the group had caught up, many of whom were carrying boxes of supplies presumably looted from the shops in addition to a wide variety of weapons. They gathered around my mother. It was mostly adults, varying anywhere from under thirty years old to sixty plus. That made me realize I hadn’t seen John yet.

I turned to Katelyn. “Where’s your brother?”

“Out looking for Spotted Fawn,” her dad said, and I almost chuckled aloud at the idea that they were still using the code names. It turned out to have something to do with the crowd.

Something about anxiety and excitement gave me the courage to talk freely among the adults. I asked her dad, “So what happened? Why’s she missing?”

Having not secured the bandana yet, he kept pressure on his arm and spoke through clenched teeth. “We were going door to door gathering supplies when we got separated. Soldiers pushed us this way, back toward the park.”

“Soldiers?” It was a more surprising revelation than I anticipated. I jerked my head to the sky out of reflex, fully expecting them to be dropping bombs any second. “What happened to them?”

“They’re cordoning off the town…slowly,” Mom said. “We were headed back to the park when that cop tried to cut us off.” I looked down the street at the burning shop, and she must’ve seen the conflict in my eyes. “We didn’t mean for that to happen. None of it.”

Dad stepped into the conversation. “No one would’ve hurt him if he hadn’t shot at us first. You know that, right?”

I nodded numbly. We’d always been raised to respect the authorities, at least until they started coming to our house in black Suburbans at all hours of the day or night. Even then, we tried to keep things respectful, despite them showing us none. The way things had been going, I’d known it was only a matter of time before it came to blows up close and personal. Other people had already been fighting back. It was our turn to wade into the fight. No use crying over that.

The die had been cast, several times—first when the bombs fell and we ran, and then Marisol and Mr. Clean took a beating for us. Someone was always taking the hit. There was no waiting any longer; no running from this situation. Not when the police fired on our people, and when we’d been officially branded rebels.

“We need to get going,” Mom said. “Those soldiers won’t keep taking their time. They’ll be moving in with the town burning. Or…”

She turned abruptly to the group and shouted orders for them to follow us into the park and take cover. I looked at Katelyn and immediately recognized the panic on her face.

“You’re not leaving without her mom, are you?”

“We have to go,” Mom said. “They’ll level the rest of the town if we stay.”

“The bombers are probably already on the way,” Dad added more forcefully than normal. “We need to move.”

I glanced at Katelyn’s dad. His lips were set in a thin, resolute line. What he was determined about, I couldn’t tell. Mom spun him around and started to help him bandage his arm.

“Well, we’re staying here to find her.” I took Katelyn’s hand and pulled her away from our parents. It felt safer to be out of their reach, especially when I knew they’d object. “Take these people to the mountain, and we’ll meet you back at camp.”

“Zach, wait!” Dad called, but I ignored him as we headed upstream into the throng of adults rushing toward the exit.

“John might’ve already found her,” Katelyn’s dad added, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the commotion.

“Just go. We’ll get her,” Katelyn replied over her shoulder. She found her legs and jogged alongside me. She winced with every footstep but kept moving. A man from her camp bumped into us as he headed the other way, and asked something. I brushed him off too, singularly focused on making our way through the crowd.

We burst out of the group and continued jogging down the middle of the street. The flames from the burning shop were still raging, and I adjusted course to bring us to the sidewalk across the street from the inferno.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Katelyn said after the voices disappeared behind us to be replaced with the crackling of the blaze.

“Heck, yeah.”

Someone grabbed my arm, and I whipped around ready to knock them off me.

“Whoa! Easy, bro.” Austin held his arms up defensively.

I eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I’m coming with you.”

I looked over his shoulder to see if I could catch a glimpse of Mom or Dad, but they were lost in the crowd as the reformed amoeba slithered into the park. We were on our own. Better some help than none.

“Fine. You know where she was at?”

Austin shrugged. “Last I saw, she was by the pancake shop.”

“There’s one of those on every corner,” Katelyn said as we started jogging again.

“What’s with tourists and pancakes anyway?” Austin said. “Beats me.”

“Focus, dude,” I chided, and picked up the pace. “Which one?”

“The one with the bear on the sign.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down,” Katelyn quipped. “C’mon, this is serious.”

“I’m trying to be,” he replied. “Calm it down.”

She stopped in her tracks. “This is my mother we’re talking about. Be some kind of help or get the-”

“Katelyn, easy…” I spun her around to diffuse the tension, and she winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

She shook her head and glared at Austin.

“It might’ve been that one,” he said, pointing to a restaurant like he was oblivious to her rage. Knowing him, he probably was. “And a good thing too, ‘cause about everything beyond that point really looks like a warzone, bomb craters and all.”

“Let’s move.” I started walking, letting Austin run on ahead. Katelyn was still huffing and muttering under her breath. “Welcome to my world,” I whispered. “Just ignore him. Trust me.”

“I’ll try.”

She groaned and jerkily tried to jog after him. I kept pace with her easily.

Austin raced down the block, passing by a t-shirt store, a fudge shop, and a courtyard between two wooden buildings. The second of the two was a giant structure in the shape of a barn, only larger. I slowed when I noticed the cracked sign dangling from one cable. It read Smoky Shine.

“Good thing the cop didn’t crash into there,” I said, imagining the fireball when thousands of mason jars full of grain alcohol ignited. I veered off course to get a better look at the building.

“What’re you doing? “ Katelyn asked. “The pancake place is right there.” She pointed to the next structure beyond the faux barn.

A carved black bear straddled a totem pole placed beside the front door to the restaurant. The door was swinging shut. Austin was already inside.

“Okay, later.” I hurried to keep up with her, but managed a sidelong glance at the moonshine barn. The windows were dark. Between that and the lack of streetlights, any look inside would have to wait until later.

Katelyn ripped the door to the pancake shack open and screamed, “Mom? John?”

There was no reply. We stumbled our way through the seating area toward the kitchen. I stubbed my boot on a table leg and sent a chair skittering across the floor.

“Jeez, Zach,” Katelyn panted. “You scared the crap outta me.”

I jammed my wrist into another chair and bit my lip to keep from crying out. “This sucks. I can’t see anything.”

Katelyn hollered again for her mom. The only reply was the sound of someone clanking around in the kitchen.

I bumped into another table, and knocked my hip into the side of a booth. Turning back toward the windows, I stopped to take a deep breath. Desperation was setting in. If her mom was down, I’d have to step on her to find her.

I was in the middle of cursing the darkness one last time when the street out front lit up bright as day. I ducked below the tables as light flooded through the windows. Worse yet, the rumbling sound of heavy wheels shook the walls.

CHAPTER 40

The light showering through the windows made it too bright to see outside, but I knew what that meant. The traffic that would’ve crowded the streets from summers’ past was no more than a ghost of a memory, but there were vehicles out there now. Big ones, and probably all military green.

“The soldiers are here,” I whispered, though the sounds of diesel engines and rattling windows nearly overpowered my voice.

Katelyn was calmer than I anticipated, and seemingly less stressed than me. My eyes raced around the room, trying to find a way out. We’d have to use the back door.

“You ready to steal a car yet?” Katelyn quipped.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Follow me.” She took off for a swinging door in the rear of the seating area before I’d spotted it.

We crawled as fast as we could on hands and knees. Katelyn was impressively fast, beating me to the door and slipping inside a kitchen barely lit by what must have been battery-powered, eerily red-colored security lights. I joined her and Austin a second later.

“Reinforcements out there?” he said more than asked. Any trace of cockiness was gone.

“Yep.” I rose up from my knees and headed to the back door. “That’s our cue to leave.”

“What about my mom?” Katelyn asked.

“She’s not back here,” Austin said. He wiped his shaggy hair out of his eyes, showing the beads of sweat on his forehead. “The kitchen’s wrecked…and something slick is spilled all over here.” He pointed off to the side toward a ransacked shelving unit. “Anyway, we’d really better go.”

“I didn’t see her up front,” I said, trying to convince Katelyn to move on though I hated to do it too.

“Me, either. I looked everywhere,” she added. Apparently that was what she had done while I was busy staring into the light and panicking.

“Maybe John has her,” I mumbled as Austin led us to a heavy metal door and gave it a shove. It opened, but only a sliver.

“It’s not that heavy. What the heck?” He put his shoulder into it. I stepped up behind him to add a little more force. It budged again, but still little more than a crack.

Then I heard the moaning.

“Careful,” I said as Austin kept slamming his shoulder into the door.

“I’m fine,” he said, mistaking my concern for him.

“There’s something out there.”

“Just push,” he growled.

I put my hands back on the door. Katelyn joined in too, and we shoved with all our might. The door slid wide enough open to get a foot out. Even though the sound of the military vehicles bounced off the walls of the buildings behind us, I noticed the moaning grew louder.

Katelyn slipped underneath us and wedged herself into the opening. “Just a little more,” she said breathlessly, like she wouldn’t inhale in order to keep herself as thin as possible.

She squeezed her butt into the door opening somehow. It wasn’t going to slam shut, but we’d reached a point where it wouldn’t go any farther. With an inelegant jerk, Katelyn popped free and tumbled outside.

She screamed for help, disappearing behind the door.

Austin and I were almost slender enough to slip out the gap too, but I wasn’t sure we could make it. With heart racing and Katelyn gone, I braced myself for one last push.

“C’mon, do it!” I hollered at my brother and gave it everything I had left.

The door slid a little farther, then suddenly flew open. Austin slipped to the ground, and I stumbled over him.

I caught myself with a hand, barely avoiding smashing my face on a railing above a darkened alley. My wrist stung, but I ignored it to clamber to my feet, which slipped on something slick. Katelyn kneeled next to me, arms wrapped around the shoulders of the doorstop.

“She was stuck tight, blocking the door,” she said softly, tears welling.

Despite the blood smeared across her cheek, I instantly recognized her mother. Spotted Fawn’s legs were twisted awkwardly underneath her. One arm looked to be pinned under a massive brown sack.

“Did we…” I faltered, thinking back to repeatedly shoving the door. “Is she-”

“I don’t know,” Katelyn sobbed. She ran her fingers along her mother’s neck aimlessly. I scooted next to her, and noticed the landing and the steps were covered in cooking oil, not blood.

Austin finally got to his feet, cursing the slippery surface.

“Jeez, some joker spilled oil all over the place.” He stepped over the giant sack, which turned out to be flour, and pulled it off Spotted Fawn. Tossing it aside with a thump, he hurried to the side of the building for a peek at the street. Meanwhile, I helped Katelyn search for a pulse.

“I think I’ve got something,” I said, hoping the thrumming through my fingertips was her mom’s pulse and not mine. I took a breath and focused, realizing my heart raced while the beats I felt were slow and weak. “Yeah, she’s alive.” Barely.

Katelyn examined her mom quickly for any other obvious injuries besides the bleeding. I left her to that and snuck over to Austin.

“We need to move,” he said. “I doubt they’re only searching the buildings along the strip.”

“How about a distraction?” I pointed next door to the barn. “Any clue if there’s anything left in there?”

“Moonshine, yeah.” Austin laughed. “How else did ya think we made those fireballs? There’s a lot left.”

With the adults gone, a sudden doubt appeared. “You have a way to light it?”

Austin fished a lighter out of his pocket and sparked it. “Yeah, little bro.”

I didn’t follow up on where that came from. We were just lucky he had it.

Katelyn called for me. I turned to Austin first with a suggestion. “Go get some shine?”

He nodded and disappeared into the alley. His footsteps were quickly concealed by the sound of trucks rumbling down the street on the other side of the pancake house.

I hurried to Katelyn. “What’d you find? Anything obvious?”

“Nothing really, just a little cut and a knot on the back of her head.”

“That’s good, I think. She must’ve slipped on these steps.” I glanced at the flour sack. “That thing looks like it weighs a ton.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Either way, we need to move her.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I reached for Spotted Fawn’s arms and, in lifting them up, tried to envision a way to carry her. Cradling her in my arms like a baby seemed unrealistic. Though she was an average-sized woman, I knew I couldn’t hold her that way for long. With her lying down, I didn’t see how I could get her over my shoulder for a fireman’s carry.

“Can you take a shoulder?” I asked Katelyn. “I’m thinking one arm over each of our shoulders.”

“I’ll try.” She scooted to her mom’s right side, and leaned in. Before we lifted, she hesitated. “Can we switch sides? This leg’s still not so good.”

“Sure. Good call.”

We switched around to where Katelyn’s stronger right leg would be holding up her mom’s left side. Holding Spotted Fawn’s arm with my right hand, I slipped my left under her back to lift her up.

Her mom’s eyelids flickered as we sat her up. Katelyn drew in a deep breath and squeaked when her mom cracked, “Where am I?”

Her voice was weak, much like her eyelids which flickered like a kid playing with a light switch. On, off. On, off. And then off for an extended period.

“Ma!” Katelyn rubbed her mother’s grimy cheeks. “Stay with us.”

“What?” she mumbled.

“We’re gonna move you, okay?”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Zach.”

“Who’s-”

Katelyn threw her mother’s arm over her shoulder, cutting off any further conversation. “Just grab her and let’s go.”

“Not too fast. Don’t fall,” I warned, but otherwise did as I was told, though not without shooting a glance toward the moonshine store. Austin still hadn’t returned. “Head that way,” I told Katelyn, nodding my head toward the back of the Smoky Shine store.

Spotted Fawn was out cold again as we stumbled across the alley with her weight distributed between us. It reminded me a lot of dragging a dead deer out of the woods, but certainly not a fawn. I couldn’t imagine how we were going to get all the way back to camp.

I couldn’t dwell on that for long. We met Austin outside at the back of the store. He had an entire cardboard case of mason jars.

“Ah, good, she’s moving…sort of.” He held up the case and wisecracked, “Ready to party?”

CHAPTER 41

“Party, huh?” I looked at him through my eyelashes, exhaustion and an extra passenger dragging me down. “You better do something. We’re not getting anywhere fast.”

“I see that.” Austin popped open the case and pulled out a bottle. In a quick motion, he jammed a knife through the metal lid and then used the blade to stuff a piece of ripped up washcloth into it.

“You found all that in there?” I asked.

The lighter flicked and the flame displayed a crazed jack-o-lantern look on Austin’s face. “If you had a free hand we’d bring all kinds of good stuff back with us. The shelves are cleaned off, but the storeroom’s still packed.”

That was an unexpected bit of news. I imagined the fireball we could make with those kinds of supplies, and hoped Austin wasn’t planning on burning the place down to make a distraction. Before I could ask, Austin tipped the moonshine jar upside down to wet the wick.

“Just go and I’ll catch up,” Austin said with a wild grin. He lit the wick, left the case on the ground, and sprinted between the buildings toward the street.

“You heard the man,” I told Katelyn. With her mother suspended between us, we headed the other way down the alley.

Back on the strip, the sound of broken glass reached our ears. A burst of flame like Dad had squirted lighter fluid on charcoal followed; however, there were more hairs singed that time. The moonshine cocktail lit up the street behind us, showering us in an orange glow.

We ducked behind a dumpster and disappeared in the shadows— as much to get in the dark as it was to avoid the gunshots that surprisingly didn’t follow.

We kept going, slowly, dragging Katelyn’s mom’s toes on the ground. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of pounding boots running up behind us.

“Zach?” Austin called, but the boots kept coming.

I took the risk and answered, “Over here.”

“Where? My eyeballs are burned.”

I stopped in my tracks, unintentionally shifting the extra weight onto Katelyn. She almost buckled but held on.

I helped them up against the wall of a multi-story brick building and let go to head back toward Austin. The boot pounding was over, but I picked up on the gentle swish of fabric. More so, it was the occasional clink of glass that gave him away.

“Psst, over here.”

“Whoa, where?” Austin ground to a halt, his head whipping around.

I stepped forward to take the case of moonshine from him, but he jerked it out of reach.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. That was awesome!”

“Shh, keep it down.” I looked over his shoulder toward the street. On the opposite side of the strip, a raging fire was growing on the canopy over one of the souvenir shops. If there was any saltwater taffy in there, it wasn’t going to be fit to eat. “How’s your eyes?”

“Better. That glare was brutal. I about walked into a building.”

“That’s all?” I grabbed him by the wrist, making the bottles in the case clink, and pulled him toward the others. “I thought you’d actually burned them.”

“No worries, little bro. But we’d better get going.”

“We’re trying. Can you take a shoulder?”

“Sure.” Austin held out the case to Katelyn but pulled it away at the last second. “Hold on,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not old enough to carry this.”

“What?” She reached out to take it while I held up her mother.

“You’re not twenty-one, are you? The law says you can’t have this.”

“Neither are you,” she replied.

“Shut up, Austin,” I grumbled. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

He handed the case over to a deeply frowning Katelyn, and told me, “We are, but that fire might keep them occupied.”

“You better hope. Now get over here.”

Between the two of us, we got Spotted Fawn all the way off the ground. It was killing my back, but we were able to make it up to the front of an abandoned hotel about a block behind the pancake house before the soldiers started spotlighting the alleys along the strip.

I rested against the side of the building, my heart racing. Each beat sent a stab of pain through my chest to my back to my knees, and I wondered if we could go any farther.

“How about stealing that car?” Katelyn asked. She didn’t look quite as winded, but I knew the moonshine was heavy for someone with a bad leg.

Austin jumped at the chance. He tossed Spotted Fawn off his shoulder fully onto mine, and leaped out in front of us. “Great idea! Meet me around back and I’ll pick you up.”

As he disappeared into the night, Katelyn looked at me seriously. “Does he even know how to hotwire a car?”

“Beats me, but I reckon we’ll find out.” An ominous thought hit me when the image of a car-thieving Austin faded away. “What about John?”

“He can probably take care of himself,” Katelyn said, her voice a whisper. “We’ve gotta get her outta here.”

“I suppose you’re right.” My voice dropped softer than hers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, but I didn’t quite believe it.

I found myself leaning farther over trying to support Spotted Fawn. Katelyn set the moonshine down to come help me, but it wasn’t going to be enough to get us around to the back of the building. We needed to keep moving farther away from the strip, which continued throwing the occasional shout or beam of a searchlight our way.

“Wait here with her for a second?”

“Why?”

I was too tired to answer. As soon as we’d lowered Katelyn’s mom to a rusty bench in front of the motel, I took off for the front door.

The glass was shattering, revealing little more than a darkened hallway leading past the registration desk. But I wasn’t going in that far.

I turned sideways and slipped into the lobby. Glass crunched under my boots, and I heard Katelyn say, “Zach, hurry up.”

“I’m trying.”

It was taking too long for my eyes to adjust, so I just ran my hand along the inside wall of the motel and started working my way to the right. Then I hit it. My fingers wrapped around a metal pole and thankfully it rolled when I jerked.

A moment later, I pulled the luggage cart through the open front door frame, probably making way too much noise.

“Oh heck no,” Katelyn said, looking at my ridiculous idea. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? We need to get her around back. The quicker the better.”

“Fine, but you’re telling her if she remembers.”

I bent over, gritting my teeth as I pulled Spotted Fawn off the bench. I spun her around to lower her, and she landed clumsily on the cart. Katelyn grimaced and helped me get her feet tucked up off the ground.

“I think she’d approve,” I said with a grin, happy to be ready to move again. Katelyn harrumphed and grabbed a pole on the cart protectively. “You can take her. I’ll carry the moonshine.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw that on her too.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Relax, Zach. I’m just kidding.” Katelyn turned the corner of the building, and the night grew even darker the farther we got away from the strip. “This is actually working out.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

The cart rumbled as the tiny wheels carried our load through the broken up, empty parking lot toward the back of the building.

“It’s either that or worry about Austin coming to pick us up.” I paused abruptly. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, thanks. I wasn’t worrying at all until then.”

“Very funny.”

“I know.”

She helped me push the cart up against the back of the building, and we leaned on the wall. I looked up and saw nothing but dark sky and the outlines of air conditioning units poking out from the side of the three story building. Some were missing, which was mildly unnerving.

Austin didn’t show up right away. Looking across the parking lot, there was nothing around of significance. Grass grew in deep cracks across the asphalt. A car probably hadn’t parked there in a couple years or more. I had no idea how far he had to walk to find us a ride.

With the growing racket of more vehicles coming from the street, I sure hoped he’d hurry. I ventured farther into the parking lot, straining my eyes to catch sight of a stolen vehicle coming our way. But the arrival came from well above the pavement. I ended up running back for cover when I heard the whop-whop-whop sound of a helicopter echoing off the buildings.

CHAPTER 42

I flattened my back against the wall, expecting a searchlight to pop on from above. But it never did. Dust swirled in the parking lot. The downdraft was stronger than a tornado. I shielded my eyes and listened to the engine whine, certain it was about to set down in the middle of the parking lot.

Katelyn hunched over her mom, keeping the unconscious woman from being beaten with pebbles stirred by the helicopter blades. We couldn’t run anymore. I turned my back on the parking lot too, and leaned in next to Katelyn.

It was too loud to talk, not that we needed to. I wrapped an arm around Katelyn as we stretched out to protect Spotted Fawn from the dust cloud. She looked peaceful despite being twisted on the luggage cart.

The wind whipped our hair, and I noticed a gash on Spotted Fawn’s scalp. Without touching it directly, I parted her hair and pointed at the knot on her head to Katelyn. She looked at me and nodded.

I shouted my diagnosis over the roar of the blades. “You were right! Hit in the head! Knocked out cold!”

“I know!” Katelyn brushed my hand aside to touch her mom’s scalp. She pressed on her skull close to the knot. Spotted Fawn’s eyes leaped open with alarm. She went to sit up and nearly tumbled off the cart.

“Sorry, Mom!” Katelyn yelled. “Careful!”

Her mother blinked several times before pinching her eyes shut as if the darkness burned them like staring at the sun. She pressed her hands over her ears and seemed to moan, though it was impossible to hear.

I looked behind us toward the parking lot. Austin, of course, wasn’t there yet. So I squinted through the dust cloud, shielding my eyes with my hands and chanced a look at the sky.

The helicopter wasn’t exactly overhead. It was centered above the hotel, but plenty close enough that I could make out the tips of the blades. If he’d found a car, I knew Austin wasn’t going to pick us up until it was gone.

No sooner after I thought that, the helicopter seemed to inch away. I straightened up and stepped away from the wall of the hotel, and watched as the helicopter slowly hovered off toward the strip. I breathed a sigh of relief only to tighten right back up again.

Tires squealed in the parking lot as a dark vehicle barreled toward me. I stood in the lot dressed in dark colors while the driver came right for me, without headlights. I dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a hit. The brakes locked up, and the vehicle cut sharply to the side to slide up against the sidewalk ringing the motel.

“Fancy driving, huh?” Austin said through the open window.

As soon as I caught my breath, I muttered, “You nearly ran me over,” and hurried over to help Katelyn.

“Get in!” Austin hollered without bothering to get out of the pick-up truck to help.

It was a full size truck, but just a two door model.

“We’ll have to ride in the back,” I told Katelyn as we bounced the luggage cart off the curb and pulled it to the passenger side. I couldn’t help but notice Austin looking at us curiously as we opened the door to place our human luggage into the front seat. At least he leaned across to pull Spotted Fawn up. She slumped over, curled up in a ball, and I closed the door quickly but carefully.

Through the open window, Austin said, “Hang on tight.” He flashed his trademark maniacal grin. I ran to the back and helped Katelyn hop into the bed of the truck. Once she was in, I handed her the case of moonshine before climbing in myself.

Fortunately, the bed was relatively clean other than a few empty beer cans. That was to be expected. I brushed them aside to find a seat next to Katelyn, but Austin completed the job for me. He mashed on the gas, and I slipped to the bed with a tailbone-bruising thunk.

We held onto the sides with white knuckles and frozen voices as the truck accelerated across the parking lot. Like a crazed Black Friday shopper, Austin cut through rows diagonally, tires squealing as if he was trying to tell the whole army where we were at.

Without warning there was a giant clunk. I thought the motor had fallen out, but we went airborne instead. My stomach rose into my throat, bringing bile with it. A second later we banged hard on the ground, scraping metal and throwing up a shower of sparks.

 “What was that?” Katelyn said as I sat rubbing my scalp. My head rang from banging against the frame, and my butt throbbed again from another jolt. This was going to be a long drive, but better than ending too soon.

“I don’t know. Must’ve run over a curb or something.”

“He’s a freakin’ nutjob.”

“You’re telling me. Now you know why I walk to school.”

We turned sharply again; this time down a narrow street between a couple of condo complexes. We were heading away from the strip. I could only hope Austin knew of another way out of town. I was sure only the main highway led into the park.

I turned around to look through the back glass, trying to get some kind of better idea where we were going. Austin had his head stuck out the window, as if that would somehow help him see in the dark. He looked ridiculous. I nudged Katelyn to look at him.

She spoke up to be heard over the sound of screeching tires and foot mashing acceleration. “I don’t know how he can see anything.”

Somehow Austin heard her. “I can’t,” he said.

“Obviously,” she muttered.

We jostled around, slamming our shoulders into each other and the side of the truck as Austin made another pair of sharp turns, and took us onto a winding asphalt road leading out of town. Tree limbs crowded the narrow road, brushing up against the sides of the truck. I leaned my chest into my knees to keep a lower profile, and kept hanging on to Katelyn with one hand and the side of the truck with the other.

We started up a sharp incline. The beer cans skidded to the tailgate of the truck again, making quite a racket. I slipped lower into the bed of the truck, and hardly hung on as Austin raced us up the hill, motor whining in protest at the steep grade.

Once we finally flattened out, Austin eased up on the gas pedal. I straightened up long enough to get a sustained look at the remnants of Gatlinburg. We had a commanding view of the strip.

I noticed with concern that it was lit brightly like a busy summer evening. But rather than streetlights and the neon of shops, it was the flashing lights from a handful of police cars and headlights from a dozen military vehicles. A couple of fire trucks added to the melee, spraying water on the burned hulk that Austin had firebombed. The part of the town we hadn’t seen from the street was even more devastated.

Despite the activity, it wasn’t nearly as many vehicles as I’d expected. It sounded like so many more back when we were closer. Better yet, I scanned the sky and found no trace of the helicopter. It must’ve moved off to spy on somewhere else.

“Hang on a while longer,” Austin said. “We’re gonna have to off-road it.”

“You know where you’re going?” I asked.

“Sort of.” He pointed out the window toward the bottom of the hill at the end of the strip. “We can cut through here and come out at the end of town…right by the park entrance.”

“Right in front of everyone,” I muttered. “Just like I thought.”

“There’s no other way?” Katelyn asked.

Austin shook his head. “Afraid not. Gatlinburg’s a valley. Only way back to the park is through town.”

“We could wait it out…maybe?” she asked tentatively.

Austin gestured toward the flashing lights. “I don’t see this dying down. Better at dark than waiting for daylight.”

“We could hike,” I said without thinking.

“What about my mom?” Katelyn said. She sat up on her knees to look through the back glass.

“She’s comfy,” Austin said, though I didn’t necessarily believe him after the wild ride we’d had. At least she wasn’t balled up in the floorboard.

“I’m liking the idea of having the truck,” I told Katelyn. “And your mom needs it, of course.” My eyes drifted to the case of firebombs. “And then there’s the moonshine.”

“Speaking of that,” Austin said, “Pass me a jar.”

I had to shimmy down to the tailgate to retrieve the liquor. I pulled out a jar of the clear liquid and handed it to him.

He punched a slit through the lid with a knife, but didn’t pull out a rag this time. Instead, he tipped it back and drank from the hole.

“God, that’s awful.” He spat exaggeratedly before holding the jar out for us. “Want a swig?”

“Sounds great,” Katelyn deadpanned, “but no thanks.”

“Worse than lighter fluid, huh?”

“Like liquid fire.” Austin pretended to rub his tongue and continued to breathe heavily. “Who buys this crap anyway?” I’d have thought he’d sampled plenty of moonshine at school parties by then.

“No one anymore, and a good thing too,” Katelyn replied.

“You ready to make another bomb?” I asked Austin. “Maybe a little distraction?”

“If we need it, but I’m just gonna try to sprint outta here.” He turned back to the road in front of us and gunned the engine. “Hold on!”

CHAPTER 43

I flailed for the side of the truck for a handhold as we sprang forward again. Austin made a series of sharp turns, and we bounced like marbles. When I heard gravel spin under the tires and pelt the wheel well, I thought we’d careened off the road.

Katelyn looked at me with wide eyes. My reaction was lost in another death-defying turn, and next thing I knew we were headed back downhill.

The sound of tires sliding on gravel was unnerving. I closed my eyes and held onto both the truck and Katelyn with a death grip. If it hurt her, she didn’t complain.

The truck slowed abruptly, throwing up a cloud of dust to accompany the grinding of gravel. Then, with another lurch forward, we slipped onto a smoother asphalt road. My eyes popped open to find Austin’s arm sticking out the window.

“Take this!” he yelled, still driving like a madman on a thankfully straighter, smoother road.

I nudged Katelyn, she was closer, and pointed for her to grab the mason jar. She took it from Austin only to have him hold the lighter and a rag out the window next. I wished he would keep both hands on the wheel.

I tried to thread the rag through the hole in the cap while we jerked around another corner. My body tipped over, soaking my pant leg with a shot of moonshine. I righted myself, freaking out that I’d dumped half the jar on me. It smelled like it, though I was relieved to see the jar remained almost full.

Vacant buildings popped up on both sides of the road. I finally jammed the rag into the knife hole while Austin rocketed us down a straightaway toward the strip.

I turned the bottle upside down to soak the rag the way I’d seen Austin do it earlier. Katelyn was next to me with the lighter in one hand, a white knuckle grip on my leg with the other.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Almost. Just as soon-”

Another sharp turn took the words out of my mouth. We both slid against the driver’s side of the truck as we hit the strip. Upon sitting up again, I saw a military Humvee and a couple black Suburbans a block away, pointing toward us. In the distance, smoke but no flames poured from the building Austin had torched.

A dark figure sprinted out the door of an abandoned souvenir shop two doors down, heading straight for us.

I panicked and froze. My brother slammed on the gas pedal, spinning the tires in place.

“Wait!” Katelyn screamed.

“Hold on!” A man’s voice rose over the squealing. I sat up long enough to see the guy ten strides away and closing.

The tires grabbed, and I slid toward the back of the truck. With the jar still in my hand, I fumbled to take the lighter from Katelyn. It fell into the bed with a metallic clunk. She kept her eyes on the stranger while I retrieved it.

“It’s John!” she shouted, and I looked up to see hands reaching for tailgate.

Austin laid off the gas for a second, and I lurched forward. John crashed into the back of the truck with a thunk and vaulted into the bed, knocking the lighter from my hand.

“Ah, crap.” I flopped down to search for it a second time.

As he revved the engine again, Austin yelled, “Throw it now!”

Gunfire erupted from the strip as we shot up a hill toward the park entrance. A bullet whizzed past my ear, followed by several more pinging off the truck.

I didn’t have to tell John or Katelyn to get down. He was already on his stomach asking if we’d seen their mother. Katelyn shared the good news while helping me search for the dropped lighter.

The back window of the truck shattered as bullets continued to fly. Shards of glass showered my feet while my head was toward the tailgate fumbling for the lighter. And then I found it.

“Got it!” I yelled triumphantly.

I put the spark to the soaked rag, and flames roared to life. I almost dropped the jar, startled by the size of the foot tall flames.

“Throw it!” Katelyn encouraged, her fire-lit face glowing with excitement.

I pitched the jar over the back of the truck without sitting up, and somehow heard the shatter of glass on pavement over the roaring of the engine. The world lit up behind me, casting weird orange shadows over the truck.

I peeked over the tailgate long enough to see what looked like a bonfire in the middle of the road. Any elation evaporated when two headlights poked through the blaze. A Humvee drove right through it.

John scrambled to sit up. “Great. That didn’t work.”

“Get me another!” I shouted. Katelyn moved to the case, but Austin didn’t reply. “I need the knife!”

The truck shuddered as Austin leaned over to reach. “Just a sec!”

As I crawled toward the front, he handed another strip of rag and his knife through the busted back window to Katelyn.

“Here,” she said frantically.

The fire seemed to have stopped the bullets, but the Humvee was still on our tail. I jammed the blade through the lid of the jar and tried to get the rag through the hole. It wasn’t easy with the truck climbing up the winding highway at top speed.

“Hurry up!” Austin said.

I quit working to check on the Humvee. “Same to you!” Our pursuers were hanging at most about a hundred yards behind. Way too close.

John held out his hand. “Let me.”

I shrugged him off to keep working at it, and Katelyn asked, “You got it?”

“Finally.” I tipped the bottle upside down to wet the wick. “Wish me luck.”

Austin slowed to round a sharper turn, and I noticed a park sign off the right.

“Welcome to the Smokies, indeed!” I lit the rag, and it sprang to life like a torch. The heat scorched my hand as I waited for the Humvee to appear. I couldn’t afford to wait long, knowing this was worse than holding a lit firecracker. I’d lose more than a few fingers.

I sat up to throw, feeling better about my chances this time. But the sound of a high-pitched whirring motor distracted me from the job. I looked around for a dirt bike; even leaned over the side sure I’d see something ahead of us. Nothing.

The Humvee came into view, and I threw the jar with every ounce of strength I could muster. It shattered on the pavement, short of the soldiers. Acid burned through my stomach like I’d taken a swig from the jar.

Katelyn moved to grab another from the case before we saw the Humvee plow through the flames. Next thing I knew, a wooden crack overpowered what had sounded like a motor bike.

I froze as the forest came down on us. A scream caught in my throat.

A giant tree fell from the roadside, heading right for us. Austin swerved, throwing me against the side. John rolled into me. With a crash, branches showered the bed of the truck.

The whole world shook as the massive trunk slammed onto the pavement behind us. I reached out for Katelyn as the truck skidded to a halt. With amazing skill, Austin had managed to keep us on the road.

Katelyn sat up dazed, leaves stuck in her hair. She brushed several out of mine as I ran a hand across her face.

“You okay?” I said, managing little more than a whisper.

“That was too close,” she said breathlessly.

John sat up tentatively. “You’re telling me.”

I looked at the fallen tree, then off to the woods. A shadow moved, confirming this was not by chance.

The high-pitched motor whined again, and I recognized the sound. Not dirt bike, but chainsaw. As several figures approached us from the woods with moonlight glinting on drawn weapons, I heard another tree splinter and fall across the park road well behind us with an earthshaking thud. The flames couldn’t stop the Humvee, but there was no way they were getting through the roadblock.

As the people closed on us, I waited for Austin to jam on the gas and take off again. He threw his door open instead.

“That was awesome!” he shouted. “Almost took us out too, but that was perfect.”

“Austin?” my mom called from the depths of the woods. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, who’d you think it was?”

“That was lucky, boy,” an unfamiliar man said. “You about got yourself shot.” He lowered a rifle and the others followed suit.

“Dad!” Katelyn bounded over the side of the truck, and stumbled before getting her legs under her. John and I hopped over to follow her, and we met the shadows at the edge of the forest.

Still dressed in camouflage, the adults from Katelyn’s camp gathered at the side of the road. As with the earlier mob, there were several other faces in the crowd I didn’t recognize. They wore dark clothes too, and had smeared dirt on their cheeks to blend in with the night.

Mom rushed to us and wrapped me in one arm and Austin in the other. Katelyn got the same treatment from her father. Her dad’s injured arm was wrapped in a sling using the bandana that had dried her tears earlier.

“Glad you made it out, son,” he told John while looking at Katelyn proudly.

“Someone forget about me?” Spotted Fawn asked. We whirled around and found her leaning against the truck. Katelyn ran to her, pulling her slow-moving dad behind.

“Thank God, you found her,” her dad said.

I couldn’t have been happier, or more surprised, to see Mrs. Jennings standing. She was obviously unsteady, but in good spirits. I brought my parents with me back to the truck to check on her, and she offered a hug for everyone, including me. Katelyn beamed with joy.

Before the reunion dragged on too long, my dad spoke up.

“We’d better get going.” He looked off toward the trees blocking the road. At least two more had been added to the pile by that point. “We’ve got more bridges to blow.”

“What’s going on?” I said, keeping myself rooted at Katelyn’s side. “And who are all these people?” I guessed there were around forty or so—about the same number who had been rioting in the streets earlier.

Mom looked at Dad. He gave a resigned shrug, which apparently was the signal for Mom to spill her guts.

“They’re some representatives from the other camps,” she said. “They came to meet up and help grab the last of the supplies.”

“Other camps?” I scratched my head and pulled more leaves out of my hair. “More than just Katelyn’s?”

“Oh goodness yes. Several more,” Dad answered. “There’s a bunch of folks spread out around here. Hers was just about the closest to ours…and, of course, your mom knows Spotted Fawn the best.”

That was a lot to process, and I ended up feeling left out. Not just from learning more of the whole truth. It burned having been stuck behind with the little kids too, but I pushed that away for the moment, happy to see we had help—and apparently a lot of it.

“So about these supplies…anything good?” I finally asked.

“All kinds of food,” Dad said. “Some of us went to restaurants, others the grocery store.”

That sounded promising, and confirmed why Katelyn’s mom had been at the pancake place. After all, flour lasts a long time—and I was more confident than ever that we were fully committed for the long haul. While we were still hiding out, I could see that avoidance was no longer the strategy. My parents, and the others, had a much more rebellious agenda in mind.

“It’s not just food,” Mom explained. “I suppose you’ve seen some of our new supplies in action…more chainsaws, rifles, ammo.”

“Yeah, and homemade bombs. It’s all stuff to fight a war, huh?” The insult that I hadn’t been invited grew again, and my tone became sharper. “And start a riot tonight too? And a shootout.”

“More like finish it,” Austin said.

Mom shushed him. “Sorry we couldn’t tell you the whole thing.” She looked genuinely apologetic. “That whole shootout or whatever wasn’t exactly the plan, though. I mean we knew it was gonna be tough. The town was crawling with cops and Feds, and now soldiers. We had a lot of good, important war-making stuff to grab before someone else got to it, and we thought it was best to keep you outta this.”

“We were worried about you, and you weren’t telling us anything?” I said, not really meaning to word it so strongly.

“It was the only way to keep you safe,” Mom said.

I looked at Katelyn and her mother. “Good thing we were here to clean up your mess.”

“We’re fixing to make a bigger one,” Mom said, regaining a little bit of her prepper swagger. “That’s why we need to get going.”

Dad grabbed me by the shoulder and directed me to the bed of the truck. “Get on up in there.” He turned back to Katelyn. “I’ll get your mom back up front.”

“I’ve got her,” she said. I hesitated, not wanting to be separated from her. With a grin just for me, she said, “I’ll be right back, Zach. Save me a seat in the back.”

I watched Katelyn and my dad help a woozy, but coherent, Spotted Fawn back into the front seat. When she was settled, I assisted John in getting his father into the back of the truck with us, which wasn’t easy with his bound arm.

“You drive, no lights,” my dad told Austin, then hurried up the hill after Mom and the others. John headed the other direction.

“How are we driving? Didn’t you guys blow all the bridges?” I asked Austin.

“Not yet,” he answered. “Just the ones on our side of the highway.”

Our truck grumbled to life, drowning out a follow-up question. I watched my parents stop on the side of the road in the shadowy distance. Seconds later, a vehicle started up there too. Then more. The crowd dispersed, and apparently had stolen transportation to go along with the supplies from town.

Five vehicles led the way. Austin brought up the rear with Katelyn and her dad in the bed of the truck with me. Others, John included, stayed behind to resume dropping more trees across the highway.

This time we didn’t ping pong around the back. Austin took it slower, and my eyelids grew heavy as the tires hummed on the asphalt. Away from the fires and the decay, the evening air was clean and refreshing. Dryer sheet commercials were way off the mark. That evening in the Smokies was the way a mountain breeze was supposed to be.

CHAPTER 44

Before I could fall asleep, half the convoy of stolen vehicles, mine included, stopped on the shoulder of the main highway. I looked over the side of the truck’s bed and noticed we were next to the Little River Road where I’d walked with Katelyn earlier. We still had several more miles of winding asphalt to go up that way before we’d hit the turn off to Elkmont, and we’d have to walk there thanks to the blown out bridges. Nevertheless, it already felt a thousand times safer.

The first three trucks in the column didn’t slow. They continued down the main highway, heading off in a direction I hadn’t been since I’d been a tourist months before. As they disappeared, the driver and an unfamiliar passenger of the first stopped vehicle jumped out of his truck and headed back to Mom’s, which was right in front of mine.

Mom and Dad hopped out to talk to the other adults. I wasn’t going to be left behind this time.

Katelyn joined me in walking up to the group meeting while her dad went to the passenger seat to check out Spotted Fawn.

“Drop more trees here,” Mom was saying as we approached. “Make ‘em work.”

“Make who work?” I interrupted.

She turned and held up an insulting hand to my face. “Just a second, hon.”

That set me off. “I’d like to know what’s going on, Sunning Bear.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll explain in-”

“How about now?”

Mom shot an exasperated look at Dad. He nodded and took me by the arm. I didn’t resist as he guided me to the other side of the road. I kept hold of Katelyn and brought her with us.

“Sorry, we’re a little busy right now,” he said.

“I’m not eleven. You can tell me what’s going on.”

He paused to consider my words for a moment. “Alright.” He looked at the sky as if trying to pull words from thin air. The move didn’t sit well with me.

“Just say it. Please.”

“Fine. You ever see that movie where the kids run to the mountains to hide when the Russians attacked?”

“Red Dawn, right?”

“That’s it. Think about it.” He paused. “Seems familiar, doesn’t it?”

I supposed it did. We’d run away for safety when the Feds went crazy and started killing protestors; that was definitely like an attack. Now we had guns and bombs, and we were most definitely living in the mountains. Not out west, but it was similar enough. And we were better prepared.

“I think so. So what do we do?”

“We defend our turf,” he said, more animated than normal. “We’ll drop trees over the road. Set more explosives and destroy more bridges. Barricade ourselves in here, and camouflage snipers in the woods to make sure no one gets around the roadblocks.” His voice rose in indignation. “We’re gonna fight a guerilla war for as long as we need to, Red Dawn-style.”

I was completely onboard until a sudden realization hit me. “Didn’t all the kids die?”

“Not in the remake,” Dad said defensively.

“I don’t think they all died in the first one either,” Austin added, joining the conversation. “At least a couple made it.”

I did the math. “Two outta like ten. That’s not great odds.”

“It could’ve been more,” Austin said. “Besides they were always going into town and attacking tanks and helicopters and all that.”

Beating me to the words, Katelyn pointed out, “We just went into town today.”

“But I think that’s it for a while, right?” Austin looked to Dad, who nodded. “Not that I just wanna hang out here and be bored all day.”

“Settle down, killer,” Dad said. “We have what we need…lots of food and now plenty of weapons. Granted, as the rebellion gets going we’ll have to do a bit more good ole fashioned bushwhacking.” He raised a hand to cut off my brother before he could make an obscene reference. “Anyway, I just mean that, uhm, it’ll be a little more intense than live and let live from here on out.”

“James Bond said that,” Austin interjected.

Dad laughed. “Uh, no. That was Live and Let Die. You’d better stick with Red Dawn references.”

“Wolverines!” Austin cheered and walked away while barking like a dog.

Dad shook his head and turned back to the two of us. “We’ve got some work to do to barricade the roads, and we’ll need to have people watching at all times. It’s not going to be easy, but we can survive up here. Once we’re settled at the new camp, we can bring the fight to the enemy.”

“New camp?” I said, sharing a look with Katelyn. “You mean where we’re at, right?”

“No. It’s too exposed.” Dad nodded to the two men still talking with Mom. “These guys are set up in a stronger site, a safer place. There’s a cave system.”

Though I could see the appeal in hiding under cover rather than tents covered with cut branches, I must have looked unconvinced.

Dad asked, “You remember Alum Cave?”

“Yeah, we’ve hiked there. Isn’t the trail right off the main road, just past Chimney Tops?”

He smiled proudly, and pointed up the highway. “Right, about five miles up on the left. But I’m not talking about that one.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d think just about anybody would know where that one’s at.”

“Of course,” Dad admitted. “It was more of a visual. Anyway, I just meant that there’s gotta be a hundred other caves out here, and most of those aren’t on any maps.”

“I like the idea of that,” Katelyn said softly.

“I don’t like moving, but it makes sense,” I agreed. “I guess that should help with the helicopters and drones.”

“Absolutely. Cover from above is huge. Even outside we could’ve kept hidden. It’s a massive park, you know. Over eight hundred square miles. Not acres…miles. And crawling with well-prepped people like us.” Dad gestured to Mom who was still talking to the others. “We’ve got a great group here and tons of supplies in the back of those trucks. We can hold out a very long time, and meet up with the other groups.”

“And if the supplies don’t last?”

“We can all hunt and fish. We can still raid the town. We will raid the town, and other places. It’s the only way to spark the change, you know? To make headlines, to get the word out…to have the rebellion really take shape. We can start, or maybe more like join, a movement that spreads across this country.” He met my gaze with an unexpected grin.

“Why you so stoked about this, Pops? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“We have help, and a ton of it.” He practically glowed with confidence as he spoke. “When we started out, we were only sure that there would be a few groups out here, like Marisol’s and Katelyn’s and a few others your mother didn’t know that well. So we were making the garden and getting set up to rough on it our own until we got the lay of the land, however long that might have taken.”

“And now you’ve got a real live Red Dawn rebellion, but bigger. A lot bigger.”

“Right, but don’t take that movie too literally. They were just a bunch of kids. You’ve got your mom in charge of this operation.”

“That’s almost reassuring.” I chuckled under my breath. “It went so smoothly in town today.”

“It actually went great, other than almost losing Spotted Fawn.” He glanced at Katelyn and offered a subdued smile as an apology.

I continued to make myself heard, and issued a challenge. “Then I guess you won’t leave us behind next time you run off.”

Mom stepped over, catching the last bit of our conversation. “No, I won’t. And I’ll make sure you always know what’s going on. Okay, hon?”

“Okay, but can you please quit calling me that?”

She set her lips in a firm line and took a moment before nodding. “Hug it out?”

I honestly didn’t mind the idea, but I had to make her think I wasn’t thrilled lest I gave up some ground I’d just gained into adulthood. “Fine.”

She embraced me, and then opened her arms to pull Dad and Katelyn into the group. When we separated, she said, “We’ve got it all now. Tons of food, weapons, gear.”

A two-way radio squawked in Mom’s pant pocket. A man’s deep voice sounded off, saying, “Done with trees outside town. Rollin’ your way.”

“Ten-four,” Mom responded on a brand new walkie-talkie, then gestured to the driver standing by the lead vehicle. “Roll out.”

He started it up without question. Another man jumped into my parents’ truck, and they drove off with a wave.

“Those guys are gonna take the new stuff over to their hideout,” she explained, “and destroy the bridges once they’re past. You can leave your truck here. We’re gonna go break camp and then head for their cave.”

“Things are really looking up,” Dad said, and patted me on the back.

“Our own little army,” Mom added. “Not too bad at all.”

I considered their words in a new light. The park hadn’t been where I’d wanted to be, but home wasn’t an option anymore. I’d make do in the forest, especially with Katelyn alongside me. We’d all do what we had to for the country to get straightened out. We deserved a brighter future.

I thought back to a cheesy dinner theater in town, and smiled at thinking we’d become modern day Hatfields and McCoys, bushwhacking revenuers trying to barge in on our turf. The fallen trees, blown bridges, and moonshine fireballs would definitely slow them down.

Better yet, there was no decade long feud between our two families. I wrapped my arm around Katelyn, and I felt her sigh.

I smiled at her and repeated Dad’s words. “Nope. Not too bad at all.”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A huge Thank You for taking the time to read Prepper Mountain, which falls square at the top of my favorite books. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed playing in this world. Better yet, there’s a sequel coming soon in this series. Stay tuned to my social media for word on a release date for Shadow Warriors. 

If you are looking for something with a deeper dive into SciFi, but also with dystopian underpinnings, then I certainly encourage you to take a look at The Savage Horde Series.  If Scifi isn’t so much your thing, then you can’t go wrong with another nation collapse series set in an entirely different, thousand lakes, dark atmosphere. That one is The Northwoods Trilogy.

Should dystopian oddly not be your favorite genre, then I can offer up a trio of standalone adventure novels. While not a big departure from my other books, wilderness survival stories such as Game Changer, Murder Cove, and Creeper Falls offer up teenage outdoor suspense adventure with new characters, exciting storylines, and unique settings.

But first, before you cast this book aside, I would be grateful if you would take just a quick minute out of your busy life to leave a review. Good or bad, I greatly appreciate any reviews left on Amazon, Goodreads, and anywhere else you please. Reviews help other readers decide whether or not to check out a story, so they can really help get this book noticed by others. I hope you agree with me that this book deserves all the notice it can get. In an oversaturated market, I hope you found its redeeming qualities.

Lastly, a big Thank You to all my returning readers! This book is my tenth published novel. Ten! Double Digits!! I finally made it, now about six years after starting this writing adventure.  Plus a sequel sure to come before the end of the year. Mega thanks to everyone for all your support and kind words!

To connect with Chris Bostic

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Website: http://ChrisBostic.weebly.com

Other books by Chris Bostic

The Savage Horde Series:

Book 1, Savage Hills

Book 2, Cold Valley

Book 3, Complex Three

The Northwoods Trilogy:

Book 1, Fugitives from Northwoods

Book 2, Rebellion in Northwoods

Book 3, Return to Northwoods

Standalone Novels:

Game Changer

Murder Cove

Creeper Falls