Marc got out and opened the hood, nodding at her as he stepped over broken glass and piles of muddy rubble. Pockets of steam were escaping from under the hood of his Blazer, and Marc turned around to tell her to stand watch, only to find her already doing it, Dog pacing a wide perimeter around them both. There was better color in her face, but her movements were careful, as if she was hurting, and he tried to hurry.
Angela ignored the bodies she could she see - an old woman, young boy, and three adult males, their corpses riddled with bullet holes - and sent her eyes over the traffic and trees, the distant outline of yet another dead American city. Debris moved with the wind, gravel crunched under their feet, and though she saw no mutations, nothing was growing here, not even the bluestem prairie grass Illinois was famous for.
Marc broke the plastic end off of his screwdriver and held the flat part against the top of the 6' x 3' white water tank. Using only two sure hits, he drove the metal shaft into the tank. Water came rushing out around the tool, and Marc grabbed the jugs as Dog helped himself to a drink.
"Are those recent prints?"
Marc looked away from the sign in the lot's main office that wished them a "erry mas & no year" and eyed the deep ruts.
"Yeah. You can tell from the depth and clarity. Elements haven't changed 'em much yet. A day old at the most, probably only a few hours with the way this wind is blowing."
He frowned, noticing more tire tracks nearby. "Movin' fast too, or they'd have taken the water. Keep your eyes open."
Angie helped him collect the valuable liquid, and a few minutes later, Marc waved a hand at the raised hood. "Fill me up. Just like yesterday."
Angela was still a little self-conscious, though proud that she had learned something. As she finished, she wished it were more. They'd been together for three weeks, and she had spent most of that time just regaining her strength and adjusting to the daily traveling. A third of their journey was over, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to face Kenny.
"Can we do some shooting? With real bullets this time?" she asked, liking Marc's freshly shaven face and sexy black hair more than she would admit to. They'd had to spend nearly five days at the cabin, waiting for the rain to come and melt the snow drifts so they could drive, and as a result, he had only gotten to show her basic gun care and hand positioning.