Free After Days (The After Days Trilogy) by Scott Medbury Page A

turnpike, the others looking as apprehensive as I felt. Five minutes later a bulldozer and two trucks came into view. They were moving slowly, the dozer making sure the breakdown lane was clear, pushing the occasional abandoned vehicle out of the way. Behind them rumbled four tanks. American tanks! I could see the flags, and with a surge of joy I started up from our hiding position, all ready to wave them down when Luke grabbed me by the sleeve and pulled me roughly to the ground.
    “Dude,” he whispered harshly, “look at the sentry!”
    One of the tanks had its hatch open, and the soldier leaning out of it was clearly Asian. When I peered into the truck cabins I saw the same. Chinese soldiers. I nodded sheepishly, aware just how close I had come to getting us all captured, or worse, killed.  
                  “I bet the Chinese are commandeering any American military hardware they find,” Luke said.
                  We watched as the tanks continued past, followed by a few more trucks, and finally a single jeep. A man with a pair of binoculars stood up in the back of the jeep, looking around at the edges of the road. My breath caught as his gaze swept over us and, in my mind at least, seemed to linger just a bit too long. Finally the man turned his attention to the other side of the freeway and the jeep moved on. I slowly breathed out. 
                  “Holy crap, that was close,” Luke said.
                  “I wonder if there will be more of them using that motorway,” Ben wondered aloud, echoing the same thought that I had.
                  “Luke, does your map show a way to get to Worcester from here without taking the Turnpike?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road. We waited while he rummaged around for the atlas in his pack.
                  “Yeah,” he said finally, “but it’s going to be longer and take us through a lot of farmland and some small towns.”
                  “Longer we can definitely deal with if it helps us avoid patrols,” Brooke said.
                  “I'm hungry; can we stop and eat something?” Sarah asked. Typical kid, I thought, food always at the top of their minds no matter what else was happening.
                  “Let's get a bit further down this road away from the Turnpike and we will,” I said, aware of my own stomach growling.
                  “Looks like we follow this road about a half a mile and then turn left,” Luke said. “That looks like a good spot to stop for a rest and some grub.”
                  “Alright, let's go,” I said.
    I'd like to tell you that the rest of the day passed uneventfully, but I'd be lying.
     
                  It was just after noon and we were leaving the small town of North Uxbridge behind us, when we first noticed that we were being followed by dogs. It was, of course, Brooke that saw them. They followed us from a distance, a pack of mangy mutts and dogs of differing breeds, but all of them had a lean and hungry look. I saw at least one Alsatian and two other big dogs that I couldn’t make out the breed of. They didn't come close to us that afternoon, just followed behind, sniffing at our trail.
                  “They look terrible,” Sarah said when we stopped to rest a couple hours after we first noticed the dogs following us. “Who's been taking care of them, you know, since the flu killed all the grown-ups?”
                  “Probably no one,” Luke responded. “That's probably why they are so skinny.”
                  “Maybe we should feed them,” Sarah said, a sadness creeping into her voice.
                  “We barely got enough for ourselves, love,” Brooke said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
                  “Besides, if you feed a stray it'll follow you around forever,” Luke