Dark Days: The Long Road Home, a post apocalyptic novel by L M May

argument.

9
     
    As Christopher and Donavon stocked Megan's trunk by candlelight, Anne put a gentle hand on Gemma's arm.
    “Why don't you and Christopher stay at my place tonight? That way you can get an early start in the morning.”
    Gemma was touched by the offer, but she wasn't sure that waiting until morning would make the streets any safer. In fact it could very well make them all that much more dangerous. Being cut off would change people. No power, no TV, no radio. No internet or phones. She had a feeling things were going to look a lot different in the morning.
    “Thanks Anne,” Christopher looked up from the trunk. “But I want to go back to my apartment. Check the car.” He shrugged. “You never know. The garage might have protected it. And if it hasn't, I can grab one of my neighbor’s bikes for Gemma.”
    “Nonsense. Your place is in the wrong direction,” Anne said. “It will add hours to your trip. And you'd have to pass through the city in the morning. It's too dangerous. At least my place is on the way.”
    Christopher ran a hand through his hair, catching Gemma's eye. “I don't plan on waiting until morning.”
    “You're leaving tonight?” Anne sounded incredulous.
    Gemma was flooded with relief. She wasn't used to the city and was already feeling a little jumpy.
    She wished she'd never caught the train. That she was safe at home on her farm.
    The later it got the more she worried. The idea of crossing the city on foot before the pulse would have been bad enough.
    They wasted another twenty minutes checking Robert's car, and then Anne's. Gemma was relieved when Donavon said he caught the bus.
    Christopher unchained his bicycle, finally giving up on the idea of his own car working.
    The thin beam of the key-light barely breached the thick shadows as they headed back to Megan's car to collect the stroller.
    Another shattering of glass broke the silence, sounding far too close for comfort.
    The garage, which only moments before had been a haven they were almost reluctant to leave, suddenly became ominous. The dark, gloomy depths could be hiding any number of unknown threats.
    The stroller was already packed and ready to go, with loose cans of drink firmly stuffed into the tray underneath, and a carton of lemonade balanced on top. The seat was in the recline position, and held two of the water dispenser bottles.
    With every sound making them glance nervously into the shadows closing in on them, Gemma was eager to be gone. But Robert insisted they go back for another load from the storeroom, his worried eyes never leaving Megan and her daughter.
    In the end, Christopher and Donavon decided to go back as Robert fussed with the contents of the trunk to make more room.
    It was another ten minutes before they were ready. Reluctant to leave the safety of the building for the unknown dangers of the oncoming night, they paused at the garage exit. They looked warily up at the sky, the blues and purples of the early evening barely visible through the haze of smoke.
    Gemma pushed the stroller. A picnic blanket had been thrown over the top to hide their spoils. Beside her, Christopher wheeled his unsteady bicycle, bags of food hanging from the handles.
    Megan stuck close to Robert, holding her daughter tightly to her chest.
    “How far do you have to go?” Megan asked Gemma.
    “About three hundred miles,” Gemma admitted.
    “Wow,” Megan said. “And here I was worrying about having to cross a few roads.”
    Gemma smiled at the girl, hoping to reassure her. “You'll be fine.”
    “It's not me I'm worried about.” Megan's voice shook as she buried her face in her daughter's soft, downy hair, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
    “I know,” Gemma said.
    The low murmur of voices reached them before they even got to the road, and Christopher stopped just ahead of Gemma, using his hip to prop up his bicycle.
    In the middle of the road was a small group of men standing around a station wagon. There was a