March 23rd, 2013
Western Missouri
1
"…is Safe Haven…Red Cross convoy…survivors. Does anyone…"
Angela froze at the static-laced transmission. The Witch in her head whispered that her boy, Kenn, and grave danger, were much closer.
Marc came to the open passenger door, jarring her from her thoughts. "Everything okay?"
Angela's voice was impatient as she pushed a stray curl back behind her ear that the warm wind had dislodged. "That's them. That's who we're looking for. You ready?"
Marc shook his head, thinking that group had to be within a few hundred miles for them to hear it. "Few more minutes." His heart thumped and he fished in his long black coat pockets for his smokes. Only another three weeks alone with her.
Angela got out and closed the door, ignoring the gray and black wolf on the roof that edged closer for her attention. "I'll help."
Marc understood her hurry, but wanted to linger over the radio, hoping for a location. She always pointed him in the right direction, but in this big empty, it would be easy to miss them.
"We won't," Angela answered firmly.
Marc lit a smoke, watching her quickly take care of their lunch mess, wiping her hands down her jeans as she finished. It was something she wouldn't have felt relaxed enough to do during their first weeks together. She was constantly growing, learning, changing, and on some things, she was already as good as he was.
"They're near Gillette, Wyoming. We'll catch up in South Dakota I think, somewhere around Interstate 90."
Marc frowned. They would be facing her man by the end of next week. Ten days left. His heart twisted.
"Come on, Brady. I'll back it up and can do the chains."
Marc cracked an imaginary whip, making them both grin as he got moving. They'd made good time, eating up nearly three hundred miles, and had chosen to tow one of the Blazers to save on fuel, something they were low on again.
"That's it. You drive. I'll check the maps for what's between us and them."
Angela got settled quickly, glad he had interrupted her thoughts. Instead of relief that she was about to be with her son, all she could feel was the fear of facing Kenny. Time to pay was very close now, and she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to do it yet.
A minute later they were leaving Corning, Missouri. They were both uneasy as this was tornado country, part of the Alley, and it was eerie to see one block looking totally normal - if you could call looted, burned-down businesses normal - and the next street knocked flat with nothing but piles of debris standing. It was also farm country, crops of tobacco and river oats everywhere, surrounded by Indian grass and milkweed. There was no traffic in sight though, hadn't been for the last day, and she held back a shudder, almost sure she knew why. Not many people had made it through the last town.