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Authors: Glen Robinson
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direction, so I couldn’t tell if we were going north, south, east or…north. But I did hope that we were going north.
Me and the other girls were putting a lot of trust in Damien’s hands. That made me a little uneasy, even if he was my boyfriend. I knew that he was clever enough to do things to get adults in trouble. But was he clever enough to get us past several million of those adults, many who’d be just as desperate to get out of town as we were?
I also thought about Daddy—and the young man in the suit that he had sent to rescue me. I knew that Daddy would have his hands full, and even if he did worry about me, there wasn’t a lot he could do. From what I had seen, no helicopter, car or motorcycle would be coming for me, at least anytime soon. But as we rode along, I glanced back at the three girls, and I got the same sense from them that maybe heading north on our own wasn’t the best plan we could come up with.
An hour into riding, Kimmy was shouting for us to stop. I grinned at Ellie and Damien, for we both knew that Kimmy and Marcie would be saddle sore a long time before the rest of us were ready to stop. Damien started to yell back at her, but I cleared my throat and he decided that maybe it was a good time to rest.
Ellie led the horses down to a creek that was flowing near us, and the rest of us broke into our bags of food. It was well past noon, and even though we had only been riding for an hour, all of us were hungry. I got some bread and salami and made some real quick sandwiches. Kimmy dug out some corn chips and cookies, and Ellie returned to the four of us with an armful of apples. She grinned as she told us that there were several trees with small green apples available near the creek.
“Ew, this one has a worm. Ew, this one has a brown spot,” Marcie said.
Ellie rolled her eyes at me, and I spoke up.
“Marcie, I’ve got a good idea that we’re not going to have the luxury of turning down food after this.”
“What,” she responded. “You’re not supposed to eat an apple with a worm in it. It’s not sanitary.”
Damien grinned, and then Ellie spoke up.
“Give it back to me,” she said. “I know the horses will eat it.”
“OK, we’ve had our rest. We need to get back on the road,” said Damien.
“Already?” Kimmy said. “My butt is still sore.”
“Kimmy, you’re butt is going to be sore, regardless,” said Ellie.
“Can I switch horses with someone?” Kimmy asked. No one volunteered to switch with her, so we mounted up and started riding. We rode along the stream for a long while, underneath elm trees caught in the transition between spring and summer. The sun shone warm on our backs and faces, a cool breeze blew out of the west, and the birds around us chirped cheerfully. After a while I realized that I didn’t hear the sound of traffic—anywhere—and so it was much easier to hear nature again. It was easy to forget that we were riding out of danger, seeking shelters hundreds of miles to the north, because someone was attacking the United States.
We stopped a lot earlier than I—or probably Damien—would have liked. Most of it was because Kimmy spent the next two hours complaining incessantly. Her butt hurt, her back hurt, she was hot, she was tired, she was…well, she was Kimmy. Marcie didn’t say much, but she wore that pouty look on her face when things weren’t going her way. I have no idea what they expected from a ride 200 miles on horses, but the rest of us were getting very tired of it very quickly.
Damien picked a spot under a freeway overpass that was near the stream we’d been following. Damien started a fire and Ellie drew water from the creek. Both Damien and Ellie lectured us on the need to boil the water before using it. While I sorted through the food and tried to make a semblance of a camp, Kimmy and Marcie sat on a log facing the stream, moaning about how terrible the trip had been so far and how they had no idea how they
Me and the other girls were putting a lot of trust in Damien’s hands. That made me a little uneasy, even if he was my boyfriend. I knew that he was clever enough to do things to get adults in trouble. But was he clever enough to get us past several million of those adults, many who’d be just as desperate to get out of town as we were?
I also thought about Daddy—and the young man in the suit that he had sent to rescue me. I knew that Daddy would have his hands full, and even if he did worry about me, there wasn’t a lot he could do. From what I had seen, no helicopter, car or motorcycle would be coming for me, at least anytime soon. But as we rode along, I glanced back at the three girls, and I got the same sense from them that maybe heading north on our own wasn’t the best plan we could come up with.
An hour into riding, Kimmy was shouting for us to stop. I grinned at Ellie and Damien, for we both knew that Kimmy and Marcie would be saddle sore a long time before the rest of us were ready to stop. Damien started to yell back at her, but I cleared my throat and he decided that maybe it was a good time to rest.
Ellie led the horses down to a creek that was flowing near us, and the rest of us broke into our bags of food. It was well past noon, and even though we had only been riding for an hour, all of us were hungry. I got some bread and salami and made some real quick sandwiches. Kimmy dug out some corn chips and cookies, and Ellie returned to the four of us with an armful of apples. She grinned as she told us that there were several trees with small green apples available near the creek.
“Ew, this one has a worm. Ew, this one has a brown spot,” Marcie said.
Ellie rolled her eyes at me, and I spoke up.
“Marcie, I’ve got a good idea that we’re not going to have the luxury of turning down food after this.”
“What,” she responded. “You’re not supposed to eat an apple with a worm in it. It’s not sanitary.”
Damien grinned, and then Ellie spoke up.
“Give it back to me,” she said. “I know the horses will eat it.”
“OK, we’ve had our rest. We need to get back on the road,” said Damien.
“Already?” Kimmy said. “My butt is still sore.”
“Kimmy, you’re butt is going to be sore, regardless,” said Ellie.
“Can I switch horses with someone?” Kimmy asked. No one volunteered to switch with her, so we mounted up and started riding. We rode along the stream for a long while, underneath elm trees caught in the transition between spring and summer. The sun shone warm on our backs and faces, a cool breeze blew out of the west, and the birds around us chirped cheerfully. After a while I realized that I didn’t hear the sound of traffic—anywhere—and so it was much easier to hear nature again. It was easy to forget that we were riding out of danger, seeking shelters hundreds of miles to the north, because someone was attacking the United States.
We stopped a lot earlier than I—or probably Damien—would have liked. Most of it was because Kimmy spent the next two hours complaining incessantly. Her butt hurt, her back hurt, she was hot, she was tired, she was…well, she was Kimmy. Marcie didn’t say much, but she wore that pouty look on her face when things weren’t going her way. I have no idea what they expected from a ride 200 miles on horses, but the rest of us were getting very tired of it very quickly.
Damien picked a spot under a freeway overpass that was near the stream we’d been following. Damien started a fire and Ellie drew water from the creek. Both Damien and Ellie lectured us on the need to boil the water before using it. While I sorted through the food and tried to make a semblance of a camp, Kimmy and Marcie sat on a log facing the stream, moaning about how terrible the trip had been so far and how they had no idea how they
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