Free The Worlds We Make by Megan Crewe Page B

more, but nothing else came out.
    “We lost them,” he said.
    “Or they finished talking.” Leo straightened up. “I guess that confirms it. Someone saw the SUV, anyway. But—choppers?”
    That word had stood out in my mind too. “I guess there must be helicopters around that they could use, if they found someone who knew how to fly them.” My gaze flickered from the road to the star-speckled sky. “Do you think they could fly around at night, when there aren’t any lights on the ground to navigate by?”
    “I don’t know. We’ll just have to be extra careful about hiding the SUV when we stop in the morning.”
    “It figures,” Anika said, her good humor gone.
    “Well, we might as well stick to the original plan for now. No highways. Get away from here fast and then lose the trail,” I said, trying to ignore the knot of tension in my chest. We hadn’t heard enough to know how to avoid the Wardens, only to know they were on to us, and that they had even more resources than we’d realized.
    But we had something too. We had the certainty of the CDC waiting for us. We just had to make it there.
    We drove on in a straight line for two more hours, and then Leo directed me down a winding series of back roads, skirting the mountains that loomed closer as we continued south through Ohio. The Wardens didn’t cross our path, but they were out there, somewhere, searching. The tension inside me tightened into a sharp ache. It pinched every time I breathed.
    Late in the night, we ended up down a lane swimming with snowdrifts. It took an eternity of pushing and tire spinning to back out and find another route. But as we neared the West Virginia border, the coating on the ground thinned. When we stepped out to rotate positions and fill up the gas tank with the rest of the fuel we’d taken from the hunting shed, I packed the cold box with as much snow as it could safely hold before climbing into the passenger seat.
    As we rotated again at about five in the morning, a light drizzle began to fall. Within half an hour, it had dissolved what remained of the snow on the road, leaving a slick sheen of ice on the asphalt. Anika, now at the wheel, pumped a spray of antifreeze over the windshield. She’d eased on the gas, her face whitening every time the tires started to slide. I clamped down the urge to tell her to speed up again. At least now we weren’t leaving a trail for the Wardens to follow.
    Staring out the rain-streaked window, my thoughts drifted back to Tobias. Was the weather the same back by the house on the hill? Was he sitting in it right now, wet and cold and just waiting for it all to be over, not even knowing we’d tried to look for him? The image made my gut twist.
    It was far too late, and too dangerous, to go back for him. Too dangerous to do anything but keep driving. But that didn’t stop me from hating the fact that I hadn’t found some way to help him.
    My frustration must have shown in my expression, because a second later Anika said, “We had to go. The Wardens were right there.”
    “I know,” I said.
    “I can hardly believe we made it,” she went on, with a brief breathless laugh.
    The naked relief in her voice pricked at me. Before I could catch the words, I was saying, “And I guess it’s nice for you not to have to worry about the sick guy in the car.”
    Anika’s mouth opened and closed and pressed into a thin line. A rush of shame washed over me. I could hardly blame her for being happy to be alive.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “That was mean. I’m just so angry we had to leave him.”
    “I don’t know,” Anika said finally, quietly. “Maybe you’re kind of right. I was nervous, having him with us. I don’t want to end up like that. But I’m not happy he took off.”
    I couldn’t blame her for being scared of the virus either. It’d seemed like the only right thing to do, bringing Tobias with us. But by trying to help him, I’d put Justin and Anika at far more risk than