On the second page of the A Section, he found what he was looking for: a map of the United States. This map had become a staple in pretty much every newspaper throughout the country over the past few months. David had stopped looking at it many months ago, unnerved by the prospect of what the future held. Or whether or not there would even be a future. But he needed it now.
The map detailed a variety of things, from the diplomatically named “free zones,” to the hot spots with their color-coded bull’s-eyes, the coding disconcertingly similar to the Department of Homeland Security’s terror alert levels. There were also a few areas designated by stark black X’s—only a few, but still, more than there had been the last time David had checked this map in the newspaper back home. The colored bull’s-eyes were bad enough, signifying the estimated level of infection in any given area. There was a key in the lower right-hand corner of the map that explained, in very general terms, what was typically being done in these areas depending on the color level. But the black X’s were worse, because those were the places that had fallen early and fallen quickly. The key identified these locations as places of thorough evacuation, though there had been rumors back at the college that those X’s really meant that everyone there had died. Looking at the increased number of X’s on the map now—perhaps two dozen at a glance—David hoped that rumor was not true.
Whether it’s true or not, that doesn’t change the fact that those places are empty, he thought now, studying the map. He traced an index finger along the ridge of the Great Smoky Mountains. Either those places have been evacuated or the people there are all dead. Either way, there will be no people. No cops.
As if reading his mind, Ellie said, “Where will we go?” She was staring out the window, the cheeseburgers in her lap untouched. On one slender thigh she balanced the shoe box. Its lid was off, and she was absently petting the three speckled eggs within.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that. Do you remember Uncle Tim?”
“Your stepbrother,” she said.
“We should get in touch with him, go to his place for a while.”
“I haven’t seen him since I was little.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a long time for me, too,” David said.
“Mom says he’s a slouch.” Then she hung her head, as if physically pained by the sheer mention of her mother. “Where does he even live?”
“Missouri, last time we talked.”
“That’s far.”
“It isn’t so far,” he said. “We can do it.”
“In this car?” She glanced up and looked out the windshield, which appeared hazy behind a cloud of gravel dust.
“It’s the only car we have, Little Spoon.”
She looked back down at her lap and at the speckled eggs in the bird’s nest.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he told her.
“I know.” She turned over in the passenger seat so that he was left staring at her back.
David went back to the newspaper’s map. Yes—given their situation, Tim was the only logical choice he had left.