After 03 Milepost 291 by Scott Nicholson

Author:Scott Nicholson [Nicholson, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Haunted Computer Books
Published: 2014-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Looks like the rain’s holding off,” Franklin said, checking out the gray skyline of morning. “We’re in luck.”

“First time I’ve heard the word ‘luck’ since summer,” Robertson said. “If you don’t count bad luck, that is.”

The group had arisen with the dawn, except for Jorge, who had taken the last watch. They gathered on the porch of the cottage, adjusting packs that bulged with the food they’d scavenged from the cupboards. Franklin had drawn out a crude map of the area, using Grandfather and Sugar mountains as landmarks. The Blue Ridge Parkway was far more sinuous than he’d depicted it, but as long as they headed north, they would eventually hit it, and then they could just count up the mileposts to figure out the rest of it.

“The way I figure it, we can cut across to Stonewall and hit the Appalachian Trail,” Franklin said. “That will add a few extra miles to the trip, and maybe even an extra day, but it lowers our chances of running into unwelcome company.”

“What’s in Stonewall?” Jorge asked. “All I know is the Tennessee side.”

“Then most of what you know is wrong,” Franklin said. “Folks over there still think they won the Civil War.”

“Wonder if they think they won this war?” Robertson asked.

“We aren’t going to war. We’re outsmarting it. Like Robertson said, Stonewall is just a little community in the foothills, nothing more than a few stores, a volunteer fire department, a produce stand, and such as that. We can swing around it or stop in if we need supplies.”

“The more stops, the more chance we’ll run into somebody,” Shay said. She’d taken advantage of the bathroom mirror to brush her hair and tie it back in a ponytail, which somehow made her look older. She rested one forearm on her holstered pistol, and she looked like she was getting comfortable with its presence. Franklin hoped they’d get a chance for target practice, if they could find a remote area where they could risk the noise.

“We don’t want to meet anybody,” Franklin said. “Chances are they’ll be marauders or soldiers.”

“And there is a chance they have seen my family,” Jorge said.

“We just can’t trust other people.” Franklin nodded at Shay. “We’ve already seen what we can expect.”

“I think you’re just—how do you say, paranoid?”

“And it’s kept me alive a lot longer than most everybody else in the world.”

“What kind of life is it to hide out like a hunted animal?” Jorge stepped off the porch and headed across the yard.

“Wrong way,” Franklin called after him.

“If you’re heading north away from people, then I am heading south. Where the people are.”

Robertson glanced at Shay and shook his head. “We owe him.”

They both followed Jorge. Franklin stomped one boot on the pine boards of the porch. “Goddamn it, hombre, you’re going to bust a vein in my head one of these days.”

Shay turned around and walked backwards as she goaded him. “I thought you lived longer than most.”

Franklin muttered a final “damn,” mostly for the benefit of the juncos and warblers that perched in the high trees.

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