The Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF - Mike Ashley [153]
But I'd already turned, pushing hard for that hill.
The guests won't stay the night in Salvation. I guess that much, watching May walking quickly toward the RV. She will speak to her brother, and he'll make a show of his important anger, and leaving him, she'll return to the Mayor's house to speak in private with her father. In the meantime, I might tell somebody what I guessed and everything I know. In the heat of the moment, May said too much. But that moment has passed and she probably can't believe that she could do something so careless, so plainly stupid. Right now she's telling herself that I'm not part of this community,
I'm just a crazy hermit, and nobody will listen to my nonsense. But it's going to gnaw at her, this idea that maybe I will spread the word, and maybe a few of these odd people will believe me, and May is certainly not enough of a fool to trust the good will of Christians living in the midst of this parched, unfamiliar wilderness.
The four of them will drive away, and it will happen sooner instead of later. The best road is the highway. They can either head back east or drive west to the next junction, then north to the old Interstate - a route that gives them a straight shot at the promised land of Canada.
What waits in Canada, and why should it matter?
Other people like grandma, and a secret community of like-minded zealots. At least that's what I imagine. But I know almost nothing about the world beyond my horizon. All I can deal with today is the people who are here, now.
In a rush, I unload the last of the bear and elk and fire up the truck and make the long turn around the block, driving back up the highway. I stop beside the half-built factory, considering its walls and windows before deciding to move farther. The bridge is as good as any place. I cross the bridge slowly and pull off into the ditch, parking in a spot low enough that nobody can see my rig from the opposite bank, but still leaving me with a good chance of driving out of there. Fast, if necessary.
This is hunting. My prey isn't people, I tell myself. What I'm hunting is a large lumbering machine cast off from another time, and I won't hurt anybody. That's how I convince myself to pull my rifle out of its hiding place, both pistols and enough ammunition to fight off a brigade. With binoculars around my neck, I move close to the north end of the bridge, and after hard thought and a few doubts, I decide where to make my blind and how to work this ambush.
But I am hunting people. Punching holes in those military-grade tires might be impossible, and I doubt that I could cripple any engine that's durable enough to drive halfway across the continent. But a bullet in the driver's head wouldn't be difficult, and I don't like Winston. I picture him at the wheel and grandma back on the bed, and once the RV rolls off the road, I can finish the old lady without ever seeing her. Her son is a bigger problem. And there's May too. I don't know what I want to do, but when I think about them, my thoughts start to swerve. They won't be coming in this direction, I promise myself. I'm just sitting here to prove a point to myself, because they're right now heading back east again, taking a known route before heading north to that promised land.
My blind is a stand of tall dead grass and I do my best job of vanishing. The day is past its brightest, with the cold coming out of the ground and out of the dimming sky. It doesn't take long to feel chilled. But I curl up tight and adjust my stocking cap, standing every so often to stomp my feet, checking the surrounding ground for anything sneaking up on me. But nothing is. I might be the only animal in this landscape. I kneel down again, check my weapons again, feeling nervous and a little warmer because of it.
They won't come.
I say that aloud.
"They went the other way, and they're gone," I tell the evening breeze.
Maybe an hour of daylight remains. I stand again and stomp my stiff cold hurting feet, thinking hard about leaving. But when I glance downstream, I catch a sudden flash