Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(49)

Eddie flicked Max an impressed look. “Got it mapped out in your head?”

“I do. And it’s written down if anything happens to me. And if anything does, I have to trust you with her. I have to trust you to look out for her.”

Under the bruise and the beard, Eddie’s jaw tightened. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re looking out for each other now. But you can trust me to take care of her if she needs it. I got no family left, dude. You could’ve left me back there. I guess you could say you’re my people now.”

“Take Fifteen north when you get to it. Let’s try to get at least another fifty or sixty miles before we stop, find a pump. We’re going to want one of the small towns, nothing too big.”

“I got that.”

Max kicked back, shut his eyes. As he drifted off, he heard Eddie singing some country song. Bluegrass? He wasn’t familiar enough to know. But the clear, easy voice sang about angels, and soothed Max to sleep.

He woke with a start, felt their speed drop. Shoving up, he expected to see another wreck blocking the road. Instead he saw a snow-covered road, some houses, and a mini-mart with gas pumps.

“Six was a no go,” Eddie said. “Had to double back, take the back roads. We’re down to a quarter tank, so we better gas it up.”

He pulled into the lot.

All three got out. “It looks like it’s slowed down, the snow. I’ll see what I can put together so we can eat something,” Lana said.

“I sure could use that.” Eddie glanced around as Max walked to a pump. “Quiet around here. Maybe everybody lit out.”

“Maybe. Pumps are still on.” Max put the nozzle in the tank.

“I’m going inside first, use an actual bathroom.”

“Probably locked up,” Eddie told Lana.

“We’ll see.” Because that she could deal with.

“Joe and I are fine with the great outdoors.”

“Be quick,” Max ordered. “And careful.”

He studied the street—theirs weren’t the only tracks in the snow—the near buildings. Nothing stirred but a trio of deer nibbling at seeds spilled from a wrecked bird feeder across the road.

He considered trolling for another SUV. The snowfall had slowed, but a four-wheel drive would serve better, especially where they were headed.

Maybe after he gassed up, they’d hunt one down, reload. At least they’d leave a full tank for another traveler. He relaxed a little when Lana came out again, carrying a bag.

“I still feel wrong about just taking things, but I did it anyway. Not much left in there, but I found some potato rolls stuffed into the freezer section. When they thaw out, I can make some sandwiches.”

“That’ll give us time to get somewhere more secluded.” Max replaced the hose, closed the tank. “Too open here.”

“It feels wrong, doesn’t it? More like a photograph than life.”

She bent down, scrubbed at the pup’s head when he raced back. “In you go, Joe.”

He leaped in the back as Eddie walked back. He glanced behind him.

“I thought I heard a—”

The shot that rang out shattered the stillness, a hammer against glass.

She saw Eddie jerk, saw his face go white, and the blood bloom on his flapping army green coat. Before she could rush forward, Max shoved her into the passenger seat.

“Get in, get in!”

He grabbed Eddie as Eddie stumbled forward, all but throwing him in the back.

The next shot shattered the right taillight.

“Get down. Lana, get the hell down.” Max ducked around the front of the car.

Two men ran into the lot from the back, still firing.

Enraged, Lana threw out power, heaving it at them even as Max pulled the gun from his hip and fired back. Both men flew backward, guns firing in the air.

Max yanked the driver’s-side door open, hit the starter and the gas even before he slammed the door shut. He spun, fishtailed, feared for a moment he’d flip the damn car, but the chains bit in.

In the rearview, he saw the men struggle to their feet, take aim, but their bullets thudded into the snow behind them.

Others came out of some of the houses, armed, watching with cold eyes as he drove away.

“Are you hurt? Lana?”

“No, no, are you?”

“No. Eddie, how bad?”

“I’m shot!” He pressed a hand between his collarbone and right shoulder. “I’m fucking shot. And Jesus, Jesus Christ, it fucking hurts.”

“Lana, strap in, goddamn it,” Max snapped as she started to crawl between the seats.

“I have to see how bad it is. If I can help.”

“I can’t stop yet. I can’t stop until we’re sure they’re not coming after us.”

She wedged into the back, hauled up the dog currently whining and licking Eddie’s face. She plopped Joe on the front seat. When he immediately tried to wiggle back, Max snapped again.

“Sit!”

Joe didn’t sit so much as curl up and cry.

“I need to see, need to see.” Lana unbuttoned the jacket.

“You’re going to see I’m shot! What the hell, man? We weren’t hurting anybody.”

“Quiet now, just quiet.” With hands that surprised her by staying steady, she ripped open his shirt, then yanked off her scarf, used it to put pressure on the wound. “I’m going to stop the bleeding, that’s the first thing. You’re going to be all right. As soon as we’re far enough away, Max’s going to find a place we can stop, and we’ll get you inside, take care of this. I think I can help.”