John made good time, but when he saw the next set of bodies and cars that were still smoking, he began to worry more. This had been a group of travelers, maybe even a large family, and the gang had killed them all. The back trail was indeed leading straight to NORAD. Had they been there too?
The old man lurking inside winced as another bump jarred him against the sharp spring sticking out of the seat, and he shifted, trying to avoid it as the wagon chugged along the smoldering streets of Granby, Colorado.
He hoped Anne would stay asleep despite the rough ride, and he tried to take it easy so she would. The gentle snoring coming from the blanket-filled passenger seat gave him hope she might sleep through this particular stretch of road. One look out the foggy window and she would know they were in danger again.
Signs of a battle littered the area, and the winners had marked their victory with devastation. Homes were in flames - even the pine trees on front lawns were burning, their cheery Christmas lights melting onto their branches - cars were rammed through buildings, and lifeless bodies, even horses lay where they'd been shot. The blood hadn't dried yet, and the doctor was horrified to see their tires leaving bloody tracks, but could do nothing about it. The puddles were unavoidable.
Even with the windows up, the smell was revolting: blood, shit, and charred skin. When he lowered the glass, stopped momentarily to listen for survivors, he heard only wind and crackling flames, nothing else. The equality state was no longer that. Now, only the strongest would survive…and those with them, John thought, looking over at his wife, before turning his eyes back to the dangerous land around them. He and Anne had been that type in their youth, but now he could only hope to find someone that would keep her protected.
Pushing away the worry, he tried to concentrate on the debris-laden road, but found his eyes flicking off the horror to peer at the sky. He hated it that there was no moon, no stars, just grit and thick, nasty smelling smoke. Like a damned episode of the Twilight Zone, he complained silently, grateful that the pills were pushing back the agony.
John had automatically slowed to watch for signs of survivors, but the gang had been very thorough and after a long minute, he drove on. Granby was a cemetery without a headstone.
4
Dawn was just starting to break as they cleared the city limits, the dusty sky barely hinting at light, and while he knew he couldn't go another full day without sleep, he also knew they weren't stopping near here, not even for a stretch. Those men might...