Free State of Emergency (Book) by Summer Lane Page B

shirtless guy does things to my blood pressure.
    Go figure.
    “How’s your arm doing?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t notice my now-rosy cheeks.
    “Fine. Healing up.”
    Chris hops out of the car, wearing a tight black tee. He pulls his hair back and throws his backpack over his shoulder, looking ready to punch somebody out. Or maybe that’s his happy face. I don’t know.
    “You got any breakfast in that magic pack of yours?” he asks, nodding to my backpack.
    “A little.” I unzip the top, pulling out a high-nutrient protein bar. We split it just as the rain subsides enough to allow walking in it. “Tastes kind of like paper.”
    I chew it slowly, contemplating how disgusting it tastes in comparison to scrambled eggs and bacon. Chris is thinking the same thing because he says, “That’s probably the crappiest thing I’ve ever tasted. Then again, I’ve eaten bugs before so maybe not.”
    I pretend to gag.
    “You’ve eaten bugs ?”
    He nods.
    “Intentionally?” I ask.
    “For training.”
    I shake my head.
    “You really are insane.” I spread my hands apart. “Well, fearless leader, shall we begin our long march towards destiny?”
    Chris looks a little annoyed.
    “Yeah. Let’s do that, kid.”
    And so we begin a boring, flat, wet, cold, miserable and bleak walk across an abandoned interstate. It bothers me that with all of the cars everywhere, there aren’t any people. It makes me wonder if there are more dead bodies hidden around someplace.
    “Chris?” I ask. “Do you think we’re being invaded?”
    To my surprise, he doesn’t make a smart remark or laugh. Instead he thinks it over before answering, “It’s possible. But how could an army invade so quickly, kill a bunch of people, and then disappear? Where are their vehicles? Why aren’t we seeing them out in the open?” He stops and sighs, frustrated. “This whole damn thing doesn’t make any sense.”
    I agree. An EMP, a bunch of dead bodies at the rest stop…maybe that’s why all the people who mobbed us in the Mustang were so freaked out. Maybe they’d seen something. Something bad. Something that had to do with the body bags at the bottom of the mountain.
    “I don’t know what to think,” I complain. “My dad always believed that a natural disaster or something was what we were supposed to be prepared for. But this is not what I had in mind.”
    “It took everyone by surprise,” Chris replies.
    The rain starts to fall harder, making my crappy day even crappier. The only thing I have going for me is my waterproof jacket, but I’m still cold enough to freeze upright.
     “I’m going to need more water,” I say. “I’m getting dehydrated.”
    “Open your mouth,” he advises. “It is raining, you know.”
    I wrinkle my nose.
    “Yeah, I noticed that.” I stick my tongue out, catching a few raindrops. “Hey, we should try the radio again. Maybe we’ll get a signal down here.”
    Chris shrugs.
    “Go ahead.”
     I stop and pull the radio out of my backpack. It’s waterproof, so the rain won’t ruin it. After a few minutes of cranking – and wondering why Chris doesn’t offer to do it since he has muscles the size of tree trunks – I flip the radio on.
    The first three stations are dead – not even static. The fourth one has a flickering voice we can’t make out. The fifth one is a recitation of the same audio loop I heard up at the gas station in Santa Clarita.  Emergency camps in Elk Grove, Bakersfield, San Jose, Fresno, etc.
    I turn it off.
    “Great. All the radio stations are down,” I say.
    “They’re just looping the same audio,” Chris muses. “Which means there’s nobody there anymore. As soon as they lose power wherever the emergency broadcast center is, it’ll go out, too.”
    I sigh.
    “That’s cheery news.”
    I shove the radio back into my pack, disappointed. I’d hoped to hear a radio announcer saying something like, “Check it out, folks! The world is back to normal. You can all come home