State of Emergency (Book) by Summer Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

abandoned during the 1970s when the state came in and built a giant eight-lane interstate. Chris periodically gets out and drags portable fences and “Do Not Enter,” obstructions out of the way.
    About thirty minutes ago I rubbed some anti-inflammatory cream on my bruise, hoping that something isn’t broken. It’s kind of impossible to tell since I can’t touch it. It’s a little too sensitive at this stage.
    Since we left the gas station behind we haven’t been able to get another signal on the crank radio. It could be because we’re getting higher up into the Grapevine. Radio signals always did tend to go out at this altitude.
    Still…
    The road we’re on right now has virtually eroded away to dirt. Bushes are sometimes overgrown onto the road. As we ascend the air gets colder. I can even see powdery snow dusting the top of some of the higher mountains. Chris voiced his concern earlier about running out of gas earlier than we had estimated – all of this steep climbing and detouring is costing us mileage. It could be bad.
    “When we run out,” I say, hating to use the word when , “what then?”
    Chris ponders the question, avoiding a fallen branch in the road.
    “We can siphon gas from the cars along the road,” he says.
    “It might be raining or snowing up in the mountains,” I point out.
    “And that’s supposed to be worse than staying in the city and getting mugged to death?” Chris says, raising an eyebrow.
    “Fine, I get it,” I sigh. “I just hope the car makes it to Squaw Valley, at least. It’s at least forty miles away from our cabin. And uphill.”
    “You could hike it.” Chris flicks the radio on again. Still nothing. “Just follow the road and stay out of sight.”
    “Do you think everybody in the state has gone crazy?” I ask. “I mean, have they all gone psycho?”
    “Of course not,” Chris replies, halfway laughing. “But the majority don’t know how to survive without technology – without electricity or plumbing – and they’ll panic. They’ll get their hands on anything that works. Upstanding citizens will become criminals in a week or two. Desperation brings human beings down to the same level.” I notice his body begins to tense up as he talks. “Trust me. I’ve seen it before.”
    His voice becomes depressing, dark, and he stops talking. I watch his demeanor shift from totally calm to irritated and come to the conclusion that either he’s just prone to mood swings or he’s seen something really bad as a Navy Seal.
    Probably a combination of both.
    When nighttime comes we have to refill the gas tank again. That leaves us without about two more tanks, but with smaller canisters and an old car, that doesn’t mean we can get all the way to the hills without running out. Thank God Chris knows how to siphon gas from other cars.
    Why didn’t my dad ever teach me how to do that?
    “Chris,” I say at around nine o’clock. “We should stop and rest. Both of us.”
    “We’re making good time.”
    “We’re lost .”
    And it’s true. We’ve been driving around the back roads all day. Going on an interstate at eighty miles per hour, it only takes about sixty minutes to get through the Grapevine. It’s taken us twelve hours to even get close, because many of the roads we’ve used have been dead ends and we’ve had to backtrack.
    “Cassie…”
    “It’s insane for us to waste gas driving around in the dark!” I exclaim. “None of my maps have any information about these roads. We need to wait until morning and figure out what’s going on. I can’t even see the North Star, for crying out loud! I have no idea what direction we’re headed.”
    Rainclouds have darkened the sky, obscuring the moon and stars. It’s getting colder and windier by the minute. The entire windshield is coated with sleet. The climate control system in the Mustang broke about four months ago, and thanks to my brilliant habit of procrastination, I never got it fixed. Now I have no