Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(55)

Arlys went back, got the case of bottled water. Chuck grabbed the last load of equipment, took a sentimental look around.

Then he shut the door, locked it, and turned his back on home.

They weren’t smooshed—it was a monster ride—but the equipment and supplies took up a lot of space. Arlys nudged Fred into the front with Chuck, settled in the back, and as he rolled and rumbled away, took out the pad and pencil he’d dug up for her.

She’d written out every detail she could remember from the last broadcast, from the trip through the tunnels. She’d written until her fingers numbed. Now she wrote about beginning this journey.

Maybe no one would ever read it, ever hear it. Maybe no one would care, or be left to care. But she needed to make a record.

“Going to head up Nine,” he told them, “and see if we can get on Eighty. It’s probably blocked, but this bitch has muscle. We may be able to clear the road.”

Arlys pulled out the folder of maps she’d asked him to print off. “I worked out some alternates.”

“Always prepared. Don’t worry, cupcake. We’re getting you to Ohio. That’s the deal.”

They made it as far as Ridgefield before they hit a serious roadblock. An SUV with a dented rear fender was slowly backing away from a five-car pileup blocking the road.

Arlys laid a hand on the gun under her coat.

“They’re good. I can tell,” Fred said quickly. “They’re not bad.” Fred swiveled around. “They probably just want to get out like we do.”

As she’d trusted Fred in the tunnel, Arlys trusted her now. She rolled down her window, put both hands out and up.

“We’re trying to get through,” she called out. “We’re not looking for any trouble. I’m Arlys, and I’m with Fred and Chuck. Chuck thinks he can push the wreck out of the way.”

“Can do,” he confirmed.

For several seconds, the SUV didn’t move, then it began to back up again, veering to the side until the driver’s window faced Arlys and Fred.

“We’re not looking for trouble, either. I can help move the wreck.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Chuck’s got it,” Arlys relayed. “If he can push them out of the way, you can follow us through.”

A woman in the passenger seat leaned forward. “Arlys Reid?”

“Yes.”

She nodded to the driver, who let out a long breath. “Okay. We’ll wait here.”

Chuck rolled his shoulders. “Watch me plow this road!”

He took it slow. Arlys had worried he’d ram the mess of five cars like a horny buck, but he eased into it, kept it steady, worked the wheel.

With the ringing squeal of metal, he pushed two cars back enough to angle and nudge one off to the shoulder.

Fred applauded.

“Video games,” he claimed, backing up to get an angle on another. “Plus, I ran a snowplow for one of my uncle’s businesses a few years.”

He only had to push the other cars over a few feet.

“We can get through, they can get through. We’re wider.” He drove past the wrecked cars, eased over, stopped.

This time the SUV pulled up to Chuck’s side.

“We appreciate it.”

“No sweat, we both wanted through.”

“Rachel,” she said. “Jonah, and Katie in the back. We have three infants with us.”

“Babies!” Fred shoved open her door, leaped out.

“Fred!”

“I want to see the babies.” She waved a hand at Arlys, bounced over to peer in the back window. “Oh! They’re beautiful! Are they all yours? Oh, babies are so full of light. What are their names?”

Slowly, Katie rolled down the window a few inches. “Duncan, Antonia, Hannah.”

“You’re blessed. Chuck, they have three babies. They need help. We should help. We’re going to Ohio,” she continued, before anyone else could speak. “If you want, you can follow us until we’re not going the way you are. Chuck can maybe keep pushing things out of the way.”

“Jonah?”

Jonah glanced at Katie, then back at Rachel, then nodded. “We’d be grateful. We’re not heading anywhere in particular. We’ll follow you.”

“How far you want to go before you break?” Chuck asked.

“We’ve got almost a full tank. We just started in Hoboken.”

“Hey!” Chuck poked a finger into his own chest. “I’m from Hoboken. We must’ve been right behind you. How about we try for the Pennsylvania border? You need to stop sooner, blink your lights, or when the sun’s up, honk.”

“Safety in numbers,” Rachel added.

“Yeah, can’t hurt.”

As Chuck rolled forward, Arlys wrote down the names in her notepad.

Not just safety in numbers, she thought. Strength in them.

*

With pileups and jams of abandoned cars beyond even the Humvee’s muscle to clear, the journey across New Jersey involved winding, back-tracking, detouring.

When they finally crossed into Pennsylvania, Chuck pumped a fist in the air, let out a “Woot!”

“Crossed ourselves another state line, ladies. I’m going to hunt up a pit stop. This big girl’s getting thirsty.”