practically been ransacked.”
“They’ll be coming.” The older man leaned back and looked out the window, apparently to see if Prue was with anyone. He spotted Owen right away and then appeared to scan the area. She caught sight of the rifle by his side. Touché. “During storms we get the overflow after the people realize that there’s nothing left to be had at the other places. It takes them a while, but they start making their way to the stations located off the beaten track. You’re traveling by bike. Going south, are ya?”
“No,” Prue replied, not sure she should mention that they were heading up to Washington State. Owen didn’t have a problem telling his neighbors, but he knew them well. He also only revealed the state and not the exact location. This was a complete stranger and she was afraid he might mention it to others who stopped by here. They certainly didn’t need random and unsavory people following their trail. “Going west.”
Prue pulled out some cash and set it on the counter before pushing it toward him. He took it and then rang her up. She and Owen had cleaned out their bank accounts, although he didn’t know how much she was carrying in her saddlebags. She’d asked for large bills to consolidate, but she certainly wasn’t leaving her money in a bank that she would have no access to for years to come. She’d worked too damn hard to leave everything behind.
“West?” The older man raised an eyebrow as he laid a hand over the large bill and pulled it toward him. “That’s an odd direction, especially on the bikes. I figure we have around seventy-two hours before the ash cloud hits us. At least, that’s what they’re saying about the East Coast. If you’re traveling west and staying south enough, it’ll hit you in that time span if not sooner, young lady.”
“We’ll be fine,” Prue assured him with a small smile, taking a look around the station. It appeared empty, but she hadn’t thought they were that far away from civilization for this place to be deserted. She zeroed her attention on the television. “Anymore news?”
“It’s all doomsday reports.” The older man worked the register and activated the pump where they’d parked the bikes. He appeared resigned. “I never thought I’d go out like this.”
“Aren’t the officials telling everyone to come east? You still have time to close up shop and get closer to the shore, I guess,” Prue advised, wondering if he had a wife. He wore a gold wedding band on his aged finger. “You and your family can make it there by nightfall easily.”
“Oh, I’ll survive the amount of two or three millimeters of ash they’re claiming we’ll get in this area. It’s the aftermath that will kill everyone off,” the man said gruffly, as if he’d accepted his fate. He shrugged and made a face. “I’ve lived my life. I was born here and this is where I’ll be buried, whether it be in the ground or under ash.”
Prue inhaled deeply, unsure of what to say to that. Her instinct to survive was in high gear and she’d continue to ride until she couldn’t stay awake. She and Owen had agreed to catching a few hours—and only a few hours—of sleep when the time came. There wasn’t time to waste when a suffocating hell was bearing down on them.
“I’ll fill up the bikes and whatever’s left over you can keep.” Prue didn’t feel like coming back in here. The faster they were on their way, the quicker they’d make it to their destination. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“You too, young lady. You’re going to need it if that’s the way you’re traveling,” the old man said as he gave a sideways look to where the motorcycles were parked. “That mode of transportation leaves you vulnerable to predators. Even I can see that your guy has a stash of weapons secured to the back of his bike.”
Owen had mentioned that very same thing to Prue when they each had to run into the bank. He wouldn’t allow the bikes to
“They’ll be coming.” The older man leaned back and looked out the window, apparently to see if Prue was with anyone. He spotted Owen right away and then appeared to scan the area. She caught sight of the rifle by his side. Touché. “During storms we get the overflow after the people realize that there’s nothing left to be had at the other places. It takes them a while, but they start making their way to the stations located off the beaten track. You’re traveling by bike. Going south, are ya?”
“No,” Prue replied, not sure she should mention that they were heading up to Washington State. Owen didn’t have a problem telling his neighbors, but he knew them well. He also only revealed the state and not the exact location. This was a complete stranger and she was afraid he might mention it to others who stopped by here. They certainly didn’t need random and unsavory people following their trail. “Going west.”
Prue pulled out some cash and set it on the counter before pushing it toward him. He took it and then rang her up. She and Owen had cleaned out their bank accounts, although he didn’t know how much she was carrying in her saddlebags. She’d asked for large bills to consolidate, but she certainly wasn’t leaving her money in a bank that she would have no access to for years to come. She’d worked too damn hard to leave everything behind.
“West?” The older man raised an eyebrow as he laid a hand over the large bill and pulled it toward him. “That’s an odd direction, especially on the bikes. I figure we have around seventy-two hours before the ash cloud hits us. At least, that’s what they’re saying about the East Coast. If you’re traveling west and staying south enough, it’ll hit you in that time span if not sooner, young lady.”
“We’ll be fine,” Prue assured him with a small smile, taking a look around the station. It appeared empty, but she hadn’t thought they were that far away from civilization for this place to be deserted. She zeroed her attention on the television. “Anymore news?”
“It’s all doomsday reports.” The older man worked the register and activated the pump where they’d parked the bikes. He appeared resigned. “I never thought I’d go out like this.”
“Aren’t the officials telling everyone to come east? You still have time to close up shop and get closer to the shore, I guess,” Prue advised, wondering if he had a wife. He wore a gold wedding band on his aged finger. “You and your family can make it there by nightfall easily.”
“Oh, I’ll survive the amount of two or three millimeters of ash they’re claiming we’ll get in this area. It’s the aftermath that will kill everyone off,” the man said gruffly, as if he’d accepted his fate. He shrugged and made a face. “I’ve lived my life. I was born here and this is where I’ll be buried, whether it be in the ground or under ash.”
Prue inhaled deeply, unsure of what to say to that. Her instinct to survive was in high gear and she’d continue to ride until she couldn’t stay awake. She and Owen had agreed to catching a few hours—and only a few hours—of sleep when the time came. There wasn’t time to waste when a suffocating hell was bearing down on them.
“I’ll fill up the bikes and whatever’s left over you can keep.” Prue didn’t feel like coming back in here. The faster they were on their way, the quicker they’d make it to their destination. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“You too, young lady. You’re going to need it if that’s the way you’re traveling,” the old man said as he gave a sideways look to where the motorcycles were parked. “That mode of transportation leaves you vulnerable to predators. Even I can see that your guy has a stash of weapons secured to the back of his bike.”
Owen had mentioned that very same thing to Prue when they each had to run into the bank. He wouldn’t allow the bikes to
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