Paul Copley said, “Only one road, we’re headed toward the river, and it’s going more or less downhill. We can’t not be on the right road.”

“Don’t get cocky, First Sergeant,” the major warned. “God doesn’t like cocky.”

“How far are we from the nearest bomb site?” Caleb asked.

“Hard to say,” the major replied. “We’re about seventy miles from Charleston, so maybe there. The trees here are still standing, and the fires are still far away, so I think we’re safe for now.”

Luke asked, “How far away is . . . Where are we going?”

“Ortho,” Mom said. “We figured ten miles from where we first started. How far do you think we’ve walked so far, First Sergeant?”

“Please call me Paul,” he said. “I figure we’ve gone six, maybe seven miles.”

“So four or five more to go,” she said.

“I know how to add,” Luke said.

Five minutes later, just as they finished a long curve in the road to the left, they wandered up on a stalled tractor hauling a big box trailer. The driver had been able to cruise off to the side of the road before he stopped it. It had settled at a severe angle, listing to its right side. Had it not been for the closest trees, it might have flipped onto its side. The back doors lay open and cardboard boxes of various sizes littered the road. Most had been pried open, but others had not.

Caleb made a beeline for the boxes. Who knew what kind of cool stuff might be inside them?

“That’s not yours!” Mom yelled.

“It’s nobody’s” Caleb mumbled. “That means it’s everybody’s”

The boxes were mostly electronic stuff. Laptop computers, smartphones, a few televisions. Too heavy to carry, and pretty much useless in this new world. The boxes that had been opened had been opened carelessly and quickly, the cardboard torn rather than cut. The contents of those boxes—also electronics primarily—had been spilled out onto the street. One flat-screen television looked like it had been kicked, its center dented with a heavy impact, with spider line cracks spreading out in all directions.

“This looks like looting,” Copley said.

Victoria strode forward. “Caleb, get back here!”

He ignored her. This was too interesting. There was still more stuff inside the box trailer. He could see the cardboard from this angle, but he couldn’t see the markings. He needed to get in closer so he—

“Oh, shit!” Caleb yelled it reflexively and jumped away from the opening with enough force to cause himself to trip. “Oh, goddamn!”

A man in jeans and a flannel shirt lay on the floor inside the trailer, coated with blood that had formed a crimson river along the line where the right-hand wall met the wooden floor.