It looked like the entirety of the San Bernardino National Forest was burning, the sky practically black as we crested a hill. My heart sank. As a native Californian I was no stranger to forest fires, but this, in the midst of the current desperation and lack of water, was nothing short of calamitous. Tuck swore and then turned back the way we’d come, finally heading north rather than south toward my parents’ home in an effort to go around the fire. He unfolded the map, glancing at it as he drove on the shoulder of the road by necessity as both lanes were filled with vehicles. We drove on, my hands clenched at my sides as we veered away from what had looked like a valley of hell.

The sky cleared and the scent of acrid smoke dissipated as we drove by a sign for Temecula, the parked cars and trucks becoming more sparse on the stretch of road we were on. But when I reached down to the floor where I had a bottle of water, I felt Tuck slow and come to a stop. I sat up just as Tuck began reversing away from a row of cars that had been arranged to block the road up ahead. In front of the blockade of vehicles were men in hunting gear holding rifles and standing duty at the perimeter. “What is that? Would they not let us through?” I asked as Tuck turned around. “Should we try?”

“No. I doubt they’ll let us through. Everywhere is being sectioned off into mini states,” Tuck said. “Borders are being established.”

“On main roads? They can’t do that.”

“Who’s going to stop them? It’s smart, Em. It’s the only way anyone is going to survive.”

“The military must have a store of gasoline somewhere? Even if it’s taken them a couple of weeks to mobilize. This would be one of the first things they addressed, right? The inability of citizens to travel?”

“Even with gasoline, most of the military’s equipment might not work. And any military that tries to knock down these borders will have a fight on their hands because knocking down these borders is sentencing the people inside to death.”

I looked back at the road. He’d given similar advice to the Pritchards. He’d told them to create a perimeter and have neighbors take shifts guarding it. Protecting their food and water and livestock. And it made sense to guard your own property at a time like this. I just hadn’t realized people would start claiming whole swaths of land, setting up roadblocks into any area that had resources a certain group decided to claim.

“What about the ones outside the lines?” I asked. What about travelers, like us?

He shot me a troubled look but didn’t say more. I supposed I didn’t need him to.