Wall: A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Adventure (The Traveler Book 3) by Tom Abrahams Page A

side. It didn’t work. She opened the rear passenger door, folded the stroller, and laid it across the backseat.
    Gently she closed the rear passenger door, the front passenger door, unplugged the charging cable, and returned to the driver’s seat. She looked back at the charging station and noticed a red flashing light atop the machine. It hadn’t been flashing before. Ana disregarded it. Her finger hovered over the start button and she closed her eyes. Then she pressed it and the engine rumbled to life, settling into a low hum.
    Ana pumped her fists. “Yes,” she said between her teeth and leaned over to adjust Penny’s seat. She lowered the back as far as it would recline and then pulled the seat belt across her sleeping child’s torso. She yanked on it until the belt locked into place. It wasn’t a car seat, but it would have to do.
    She adjusted her own seat, setting it higher and closer to the steering wheel, before adjusting the side and rearview mirrors. Ana had only been in a car twice in five years, and she hadn’t driven since the Scourge.
    The Lexus, which had belonged to General Harvey Logan, was in surprisingly good condition for its age. It had a full tank of gas and a working electric motor, and Ana remembered Logan telling a captain the car could travel close to seven hundred miles.
    Palo Duro Canyon was six hundred miles away. It would be close.
    She ran through a mental checklist as if she were to pilot a plane. She checked the turn signals, the lights, the space between the gas pedal and the brake.
    Ana shifted the car into reverse, pressed the accelerator with too much force, and was forced to slam on the brake. Her right arm instinctively flew outward to protect Penny.
    The child stopped sucking for a moment and then resumed, still asleep. Ana shifted into drive and gently pushed on the accelerator. The high-intensity beams shifted as she turned the wheel and lit her path toward the exit.
    She turned left, maneuvering around the two other hybrid cars plugged into their charging stations, and then turned the wheel right to enter the circular exit ramp. Ana sat forward in her seat, straining against the shoulder strap, her hands tightly gripping the leather steering wheel. Slowly she descended the ramp, her foot gently pumping the brake, letting the car’s idle propel her forward.
    Ana rolled to the second floor and then the first, to the traffic arm at the exit to the street. She rolled down her window to find something that might initiate lifting it, finding nothing. She turned back, determined to drive through the orange and white arm, when she saw a man standing in her way.
    Ana jumped in surprise at the sight of him and let out a squeal before realizing it was Wendell Wake, Nancy’s husband and a posse boss. He was on the other side of the arm, his hands in his pants pockets. He tipped his brown hat forward, leaving much of his face in shadow. He ran his hand across his throat, telling her to cut the engine. She didn’t.
    She rolled down her window, leaned out, and forced a smile, calling to him over the reverberation of the engine. “Wendell, I’m glad you’re here. Can you please help me get the arm up?”
    Wendell waved his hand across his throat again and then pointed to the headlights. “You set off an alarm,” he said. “Where’s Sidney?”
    “I’m trying to help Sidney,” she said. “We need the car. Could you please give me a hand?” She ducked back inside the car and looked across the hood at Wendell.
    “Cut off the engine,” he said. “I can’t hear you.”
    Ana could hear him. She didn’t comply.
    “Ana,” he said, taking a step forward, “if you want my help, you’ll need to turn off the car. What did you do to Sidney?”
    Do to Sidney? How would he know?
    “He tried to kill me, Wendell,” Ana said. “I defended myself.”
    “Defended yourself? I always doubted your resolve,” Wendell said. “I wondered whether you could follow through. Sidney trusted