Tyler looked up to Harry. His little lips were swollen from crying and his face was all red. “They left.”
“I know.”
“How am I supposed to find my mom? How am I supposed to get home?” Tyler’s head hung low. “No one asked me to go with them. They just left.”
“I know they did.”
Tyler peered up to Harry. “You’re not leaving me, too, are you?”
“Are you nuts? It never crossed my mind.” Harry grabbed his hand and walked him to the first car that Ben had started. “Don’t know how far this will get us, but let’s get started.”
“We’ll get out of here, Harry, right?” Tyler asked before getting in.
“Absolutely.” Harry winked. “It’s you and me, Kid, and we have a hell of a road trip ahead of us.” Harry closed the door and then walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat.
He was going to get on the road and head north.
He would head back to Connecticut.
That was the only plan he had.
Four blocks into their walk Foster and Abby stopped at a deli. While obviously there was no one there, they knew they had to find something to eat. The deli was the perfect place.
Everything in the freezer was still cold and they deemed it was safe to eat and wouldn’t make them sick.
The bread was still good.
Ignoring the bodies on the floor, they made sandwiches and went back outside heading for Queens, eating as they walked.
“Do you know where she lives?” Abby asked.
“I know where she used to live,” Foster replied.
“You said, your biological mother. Did you live with your father? Grandmother?”
“No. Foster parents. I was in and out of foster homes all my life.”
“So can I ask why you are wanting to find your mother if she gave you up?”
Foster stopped walking. “She didn’t give me up. They took me from her. She needed help. I’m older now, I can help her.”
“With?”
“Her addiction.”
Abby nodded. “And she lives in Queens.”
“Last I knew. She lived with my grandmother.”
Abby looked around. They weren’t all that far from Queens and still they hadn’t seen a soul. Only bodies everywhere they went. She knew the probability was low that his mother was fine, but she said nothing.
Abby didn’t really have a goal or purpose like the others. She was along for the walk with Foster, adopting his goal as her own.
How far was it? Twenty blocks. Foster told her that where his mother lived was probably the farthest point from where the bomb hit and that’s why he was encouraged.
They were talking about nothing in particular, when Foster suddenly stopped.
“Do you hear that?”
At first Abby didn’t and then it came into ear shot.
It was a car horn. It was steady, as if someone just held it down.
“Someone’s alive,” Foster said.
“Wait.” Abby grabbed him. “They could have just fallen on the horn when they died.”
Foster slowed his pace.
Then the horn stopped. But after a moment, it picked back up, only this time it was sporadic.
“That’s not a body,” Foster said. “Let’s go.”
The young man over ten years her junior took off running at a pace she found hard to keep up with.
The horn was far from where the bombs hit and it was conceivable that here on the outskirts, someone was a live and that someone was beeping the horn for help.
Where was everybody?
Just get out… get out of the city, out of New York and everything would be fine. That was the mindset of Ben and Lana.
They immediately got on the highway, dodging the cars that had crashed or pulled over. Outbound traffic was minimal, so it was fairly easy.
But the second they hit the New York state line, they started to worry.
Where was everyone?
The stream of halted cars was no more.
There wasn’t a single car on the road.
Nothing.
Pulling off the highway didn’t give them any more answers. There wasn’t a soul at the gas station and yet there had to be power.
Ben and Lana were deceived by the lit up gas station sign. They were enthusiastic as they pulled over.
Not a car in sight, but the door was open. The sign on the pump, badly handwritten, merely said, “Help yourself.”
The pumps were unlocked and they fueled up.
They searched for a newspaper, anything, but found none.
The radio still played the same music on every station.
That was their first stop after freeing themselves from the confines of the city.
About ten miles into Connecticut, they left the turnpike and headed to Lana’s mother’s home. She resided in a small, tree lined community with lush houses near the ocean.
Lana was confident that this sleepy residential area was just fine. It was about that point that Lana got a signal on her phone. She couldn’t access the internet, but she was able to dial out. She tried her mother, her sister and a couple of friends. No answer from anyone.
The picturesque small town square, more for tourist show, was the first warning that something had happened, at least in town.
The grocery store was dark and its doors stood open. Pewter Drugstore’s doors were open as well and items spilled into the streets.
“Pick up the speed, Ben, I don’t think we have to worry about another car,” Lana said.
Ben drove faster making the turns without slowing.
