So they walked out of Anaheim and into the Chino Hills, a distance of more than twenty miles, a march that left them footsore and weary and ready for sleep by the time they reached the scouts from the guerrilla force who were waiting to lead them on. She had formed the unit eight months earlier, when she knew that Robert was gone and the compounds east of the mountains had fallen.
She had culled them from the Los Angeles compounds, men and women who believed that fortresses could no longer protect them and that their way of life was ended and another way was needed. She had joined them together with a ragtag band of outcasts and drifters that knew something about staying alive outside the compounds, men and women who had learned how to survive in the open. She had prepared them for what would happen and the exodus of the children she would try to save. She had given to them the responsibility for guiding those children north, protecting them on their journey, and finding them safe haven in another place.
Including the ones she had brought with her from the Anaheim compound, the children now numbered more than a thousand.
The men and women she had waiting had come with trucks scavenged from all over the city and repaired, vehicles that could transport the children to the rendezvous point farther north and well outside the city proper, where the other children and adults were gathered. Once joined, the entire force would begin the long trek toward San Francisco—although Angel had not yet decided if that was to be their final destination.
There were good reasons it should not be. The army of demons and oncemen, now that they were finished with the compounds of Southern California, would come after them. Going to San Francisco only postponed the inevitable. She could not envision saving them all a second time if she allowed them to take refuge in the compounds there. But if not there, then where? Should they go farther north, all the way to Seattle and the Pacific Northwest? Would they be any safer there?
Could they do anything to better prepare for the time they did battle with their enemies? Could she expect a different result when they did?
Just thinking of it drained her. It left her with an unshakable conviction that they were running out of time and space and in the end nothing would save them. The human race was being ground down, its once seemingly inexhaustible populace steadily reduced from millions to hundreds of thousands to thousands.
She had no idea how many were left, only that the numbers were diminishing with every sunrise. It was a trend that must be reversed or the unthinkable would come to pass and humanity would be wiped out. But she had no idea how to accomplish this other than to save the ones she could and hope that something turned the tide in their favor.
So much had gone wrong that it was difficult for her to imagine anything going right. The Word had once held the upper hand in this battle, but now everything favored the Void. How could that have happened when everyone had been warned of the possibility and the need to guard against it? The answer was simple, of course. Not enough of those warned had believed.
She turned her small charges over to those waiting, standing back while they were loaded into the trucks. She took a moment to look back at the city, searching for any indication of a pursuit. But she saw only the encroaching shroud of nightfall. She imagined she could still hear the cries of the wounded and dying, but she knew by now that she was only hearing them in her mind. She wished she could find a way to shut those cries out, to silence them. But she knew from experience that she couldn’t.
The trucks were loaded and beginning to pull away. They were old and jerry-rigged and ran on batteries that were solar-charged. They would convey the children far enough to get them clear of the city, but not much farther. It was four hundred miles to San Francisco, and that was too far to walk. The batteries would have to be replaced or recharged. She hoped some thought had been given to this in her absence. She hoped preparations had been made. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Too tired to think further on the matter, she climbed into the back of the last of the trucks, curled up in a corner, and quickly fell asleep.
*
SHE SURVIVED A fitful night of rough road bounces and grinding truck noises amid the small distressed sounds from the children who shared her quarters. The cessation of the truck’s movement coupled with the sudden stillness woke her at daybreak. She was stiff and sore and, for a moment, disoriented. She had been dreaming of the compounds and the assault of the oncemen. The sights and sounds of battle were still fresh in her mind, a wild mix of horror-inducing struggles that left the smell of death thick and pungent in her nostrils. It felt as if it had just happened, and she had just escaped it.