“Jackson yelled over the winds. I shook my head, wanting to continue on. We’d left Haven almost two weeks ago; I was beginning to fear we’d never get out of this state. Bandannas over our faces and sunglasses in place, we meandered through another deserted town, with a windstorm whipping around us—and tremors beneath our feet. Lucky for us, the storms had become more sporadic and shorter, lasting just an hour or two a day. A blessing, since we remained carless. Even if Jackson could fix a vehicl...e, the tank would be empty. On foot, we’d started seeing gaunt-cheeked survivors every now and then, peeking out from behind barricaded windows. Much to Jackson’s annoyance, I always gave them a tentative wave. But none of them had wanted anything to do with us. . . . “You stay right behind me,” he said now, pressing on. He would always walk first, blocking the wind for me, insisting I draft behind him. During the worst part of the storms, I would curl my forefinger around one of his belt loops, which always seemed to amuse him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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