maybe you would have gotten away sooner.”
My throat is burning. I can barely get the words out. He’s right about one thing—they were planning to kill me. I don’t have any doubt about that. Maybe if I had a gun with me, things could have been different. Maybe if Daniel had one, he would still be alive.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” I turn away from him and stare at one of the footlockers, wondering if it’s the one full of ammunition for all those guns.
“I’m going to teach you to use one.”
“Fine.” I can’t argue with him about it. Arguing means thinking and remembering, and I don’t want to think about it anymore. “Are we still going to go to Washington?”
“Once I get a better idea of what’s happened around here, then yes. I think that’s our best course of action. D.C. has a lot of shelters in place. There are bound to be more survivors there.”
“How will we get there?”
“By car,” he says simply. “We’ll see what we can figure out locally, collect what we’ll need for a few days, get in my car, and I’ll drive you there.”
“What about gas? The pumps aren’t going to work without electricity.”
“I can siphon gas from other cars,” he says. “Newer models are a little tricky, but there are plenty of older ones around. Don’t worry about things like that. I got it.”
I nod, accepting what he says as truth.
“Shall I make breakfast?”
“Sure,” Falk says. “The eggs in the fridge should be fine, and there’s bacon in the freezer that needs to be cooked and eaten, too. Feel free to cook anything and everything that might go bad.”
“I’ll pack up some things for later, too.”
“Perfect.”
An hour later, I’ve cooked nearly everything from the refrigerator and half the things from the freezer and packed them into a cooler. Falk didn’t have a lot of fresh food on hand, but it’s enough for a couple of days, and the idea of his freeze-dried meals isn’t all that appealing to me. I’ve also brewed some iced tea and poured it into thermoses.
As we make the final trip to the parking lot and Falk’s Subaru Forrester, I wonder how long it will take to get to Washington. It would be a long drive under normal circumstances, but if we have to find cars to siphon gas, it’s going to take a lot longer. What if we run out of gas altogether? Would we end up stuck somewhere? Or would Falk want to walk to Washington?
Falk climbs in and turns the key, but there is only a churning sound from the engine.
“What the fuck,” he mutters as he tries again with the same result. He gets out of the car, pops the hood, and pokes around.
“Is it the battery?” I ask as I open the door and peer around the hood.
“It sounds like it.” His eyes are narrowed as he looks around the parking lot. “I’ll have to try one of the others.”
Two hours later, I’m still sitting in the passenger seat while Falk tries to get yet another car started. He’d already tried hotwiring a couple of them without success, and then he’d broken into his neighbor’s apartments looking for keys. None of the cars had worked.
Falk climbs out of a Honda, slams his fist on the top of it, and then stalks back over to me.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
“No fucking idea.” Falk takes a deep breath and stares off toward the road. “Give me some time to think.”
He leans against the car and rubs his fingers into his eyes. After a minute, he ducks into the car, reaches around me to the glove compartment, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He goes back to leaning on the car as he lights up and takes a long drag.
He’s silent, and I don’t want to interrupt his thinking as he smokes. I try to come up with ideas of my own, but the throbbing in my leg is distracting, and I really don’t have a clue what we should do. The silence in the parking lot is unnerving. There should be people walking around, kids playing at the pool, dogs barking.
“Falk?”
“Yeah?”
“Does your apartment complex allow pets?”