The Remnants of Yesterday by Anthony M. Strong

up there and ask them to let you in?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Good luck with that.” I turned to Clara and Emily. “I vote we make our way south, go to New Haven.”
    “I agree,” Clara said.
    “Me too.” Emily nodded.
    Clay looked us over, as if trying to figure out if we were really serious, then shrugged. “Hey, it’s you’re funeral.” He turned and stomped off, then returned a few moments later with a pistol. “If you’re hell bent on going south, you’d better take this.”
    “I don’t know.” I hesitated.
    “Just take it numbnuts. You’re going to need something to defend yourselves.” He pressed the gun into my hand. “When this is all over I expect you to find me and give it back, comprende?”
    “Sure.”
    “Well alright then.” Clay grinned.
    I looked down at the pistol, solid and heavy in my hand. It seemed we were now armed.

 
    25
     
     
    “DO YOU THINK he’ll make it to Canada?” Emily asked as we walked along.
    “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope so.” We’d left Clay behind at the barn several hours before and trekked over the fields, finally linking back up with the highway. Much as I wanted to avoid the Interstate, with it’s mangled cars and dead bodies, it was also the quickest way to travel. My one concern was running into more Crazies, and the closer we were to civilization the more chance we had of encountering them. Despite this, the day had so far proved uneventful, and the Interstate, which seemed clogged with cars the last time we walked it, was surprisingly free of vehicles. We went long stretches with barely a wreck to be seen, much to my relief. When we did come across a vehicle or a pile up we gave it a wide berth, wary of what, or who, might be lurking out of sight.
    “We shouldn’t have left him there like that, all alone,” Clara said. “It’s not right.”
    “He made his choice.” A part of me wished Clay had decided to come with us. He seemed to know his way around firearms, and that shotgun of his would come in useful when we ran into more Crazies, which I was sure we would. On the other hand, I found myself leery of him. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on, but I had a feeling he would be bad news if we stuck with him too long.
    “Even so–”
    “I didn’t like him,” Emily said. “He didn’t make me feel safe.”
    “Me either.” It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had taken a dislike to Clay.
    “You know, he did give us a gun.”
    “He did. I’m still not sure why.” I reached down to my belt and touched the handle of the pistol. In my pocket I had a handful of bullets, which Clay gave to us as we were preparing to leave. Since I was the only one with any firearms experience, I kept the gun, while Clara took the tire iron. Emily found a wicked looking old rake with three curved tines at the back of the barn and decided to keep it. It was rusty, and the handle was snapped off half way down, but it was better than nothing.
    “Maybe he felt bad for us.” Clara hitched her backpack higher, repositioning it.
    “Maybe.” It didn’t matter. We were walking in opposite directions.
    “How long do you think it will take us to get to New Haven?” Emily asked.
    “It’s a pretty long trek.” I had been wondering that myself. “Several days, at least.”
    “I wonder if there are other people out there like us, people that didn’t get infected with the virus?”
    “I hope so.” There were several towns along the way, surely someone must have survived. The big question was, whether the survivors would be friendly. Even Clay came out pointing a gun at us, and if there were Crazies running around people might be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later.
    “There are other survivors,” Clara said as we approached yet another off ramp, this one blocked by a semi–trailer that had veered from its lane and jack knifed, spilling pallets of building materials across the road. “Look.”
    I followed her gaze. At first I