Charlie took his phone from his pocket and lifted it toward the sky. “Any sign that it’s working at all?” I asked. It seemed plausible now that it wasn’t just that the power was out, or cell towers were down, or even that satellites weren’t working, but that the phone itself was fried just like the hundreds of cars we’d passed by.

Charlie shook his head dejectedly. “No.”

We passed another sign for “Silver Creek, Missouri, Population 2,700,” and continued in that direction.

I still hadn’t gotten used to the quiet. I could hear birdcalls, and the sway of trees, and the shuffle of our feet over the ground. But other than that? Silence. No planes flew overhead, there were no distant engine roars or whatever other sounds I was used to, even in the country. And the sky was still that pale orange color with odd waves of lavender.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I heard Charlie say from behind me. “It’s like the whole world fell asleep.”

“We know that’s not true,” Emily murmured. “There are men with guns hiding in the trees.”

“Look,” I said, pointing ahead, and trying to distract Emily from thoughts of men who might ambush us at any moment. “The town.”

We all squinted into the muted sunlight at the distant outlines of a few buildings. There were some signs up ahead as well. “I don’t see any…movement at all,” I said.

“It looks like a ghost town from here,” Charlie noted.

“Maybe that man came here first and killed everyone,” Emily suggested.

I gave her a look. “One armed man didn’t kill a whole town of people. Come on. We know the power is out. People are probably holed up in their homes, waiting for things to get fixed. It’s pretty damn cold out.”

“Maybe we’ll see more signs of life as we get closer,” Charlie said hesitantly.

We walked the remaining quarter of a mile in silence. I kept my ears perked for the hum of an engine, or the laugh of a child, or something, but I didn’t hear a sound. The fraying of my nerves continued. Charlie and Emily moved closer as we passed through the town limits, the buildings before us sitting dark and seemingly empty of all human life.

There was a small crash that made us all turn quickly toward the sound, and a cat came running from an alleyway, leaped over a short bush, and darted out of sight. Emily brought her hand to her chest, letting out a small, nervous laugh. Charlie released a breath, and I slowly straightened from where I’d braced for some sort of impact, my hand going to the short, whittled stake that I’d made a few days ago and stuck through one of my belt loops.

“Listen,” I said, stopping when the sound of what I thought were voices hit my ears.