Sarah leaned over Michael to see the images. She’d been quiet the entire drive, making him wonder again whether she was jealous. The truth was, he had no romantic interest in Gabby. All he wanted to do was to salvage one of the many things he’d royally screwed up in this world.

“Places out in the country like this aren’t always exact with GPS,” Sarah said. “If this is it, at least we know there’s no army waiting for us. We’re winning, three cars to one.”

Those were more words than she’d spoken in the last two hours. Michael appreciated her being positive.

“I almost wish we were surrounded by soldiers or cops or goons totin’ guns right now,” Bryson said. “At least then we’d know what we’re up against. This place gives me the creeps.”

So much for the positive vibes, Michael thought. He sure hoped he hadn’t just wasted several hours of time the Alliance didn’t have. The place was a little spooky.

“I’m not sure I share your wish,” Sarah replied to Bryson, heavy on the sarcasm. “I vote for not being surrounded by people who wanna kill us. That’s just me.”

“There’s only the one car,” Michael said. “And it’s a farm in the middle of nowhere.”

Helga opened her door. “I’m not taking any chances. There might be an entire military base hidden underground.”

Michael loved Helga. He really did.

“Everyone grab a gun,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”

3

The yellowed grass crunched under Michael’s feet with every step. He had a pistol this time, a semiautomatic, fully loaded. He gripped it as expertly as any marksman. It felt like second nature after all the years of gaming. He didn’t mind taking precautions, but he hoped no one got trigger-happy and shot Gabby by accident.

He studied the house as they crept closer, half expecting a window to explode at any moment, gunfire raining down on them. But nothing stirred, not even the tattered curtains he glimpsed through the grimy glass.

The house had seen better days, that was for sure.

Tall and wide, with a steeply pitched roof and gables, it had a wraparound porch that reminded Michael of a game he used to play that took place on a plantation. It screamed iced tea and rocking chairs. But the porch was empty, and the house was a lot older than the one in the game. Shingles were missing from the roof, and the paint was flaking. The few places where it wasn’t peeling, it had faded to something like pale yellow. The only real sign of life was that the parched grass on which they walked had been cut recently.

Michael and the group stopped a few yards from the porch steps and waited for the Tangents from the other two cars to join them.