her sympathetic look. "She doesn't think that, I know it. Our best bet is that she's close," he said. "If not, we're going to have a lot of work to do. We know that she was with her co-workers when everything happened, so she may still be with a group. The only question is where would they go?"
"Maybe they're still at the convention center?" Julie asked.
"Maybe," Paul said, and before they knew it, they were across the Colorado border.
They drove through the night using a map Paul found in the glove compartment. They had roughly four hours until Denver. Paul was low on the gas, the fuel can reserves were nearly tapped out, and he had no idea of what condition Denver was in. Whether they faced refuge or danger remained to be seen. He was unsure of the resources available and if, like everywhere else they had been, there was no power. He wondered if a ransacked city awaited them, full of criminals and looters tearing the very fabric of a once civilized city apart at the seams. Then there was the fear of not even making it. If they didn't find gas somewhere soon, their journey would soon come to an abrupt and uncertain end.
There were few cars on the night road. The mountains in the distance were beautiful in their solace. Julie examined the map for upcoming exits. She looked up for a moment and examined their isolating surroundings.
"Are we safer in Colorado?" she asked.
Paul thought for a moment. "I honestly can't tell for sure. Nothing looks too out of the ordinary just yet. We just need to stay alert until we know for sure."
"I know," Julie said. She looked back down at the map, using a small flashlight to assist her. "Next exit in three miles," she said.
"Okay, thank you," Paul said, even though he saw the sign for exit a few miles back. "Let me put it this way," Paul continued, "we'll know just how safe Colorado is once we make our first gas stop."
Coincidentally, there was a rest stop before the exit. Paul took instant notice of several eighteen-wheelers parked in a single line.
"Think we should stop for a closer inspection?" he asked Julie.
"Why not?" Julie answered flippantly.
Paul thought they could use a bathroom break anyway. Part of him wanted to stall their gas station arrival, as so much of their trip was relying on it. He veered into the rest stop lane and parked outside a single building with two restrooms and four machines. Not surprisingly, there was no power in the building. Paul's headlights illuminated their quiet surroundings. Not a single person was in sight.
"Are you sure about this?" Julie asked.
Paul turned into the nearest parking space. Other than the semi-trucks, there were no other cars around.
"We'll be fine," he said, holding up his pistol, non-registered. It's former owner, Edwin was a murderer who had it in for Paul since Day One. AS a result of their struggle, Paul put a bullet in his head. Julie remembered this and scowled at its sight.
"Ugh. I hate guns," she said. "I wish we could destroy every single one of them."
"So do I, but until that day comes, we need it to survive," Paul remarked.
He parked the Malibu and shut off the engine.
"Don't forget your flashlight, and stay close," he said.
They exited the car and walked towards the restroom building. The silence of the highway was eerie enough, but the barren rest stop was even worse. Paul carefully moved alongside Julie as they walked. In between the bathrooms sat two vending and two soda machines. Paul shined his light into the area only to find that both vending machines had been vandalized and emptied. In the past few weeks they had seen enough crime and looting to last a lifetime. The vending machines were not a good sign.
"Use the bathroom, quick, I'll be out here waiting when I'm done," Paul said, and they went their separate ways.
The men's bathroom was dirty and unkempt, but unoccupied, much to Paul's relief. It occurred to him that he probably should have checked the girl's bathroom before Julie went in,
"Maybe they're still at the convention center?" Julie asked.
"Maybe," Paul said, and before they knew it, they were across the Colorado border.
They drove through the night using a map Paul found in the glove compartment. They had roughly four hours until Denver. Paul was low on the gas, the fuel can reserves were nearly tapped out, and he had no idea of what condition Denver was in. Whether they faced refuge or danger remained to be seen. He was unsure of the resources available and if, like everywhere else they had been, there was no power. He wondered if a ransacked city awaited them, full of criminals and looters tearing the very fabric of a once civilized city apart at the seams. Then there was the fear of not even making it. If they didn't find gas somewhere soon, their journey would soon come to an abrupt and uncertain end.
There were few cars on the night road. The mountains in the distance were beautiful in their solace. Julie examined the map for upcoming exits. She looked up for a moment and examined their isolating surroundings.
"Are we safer in Colorado?" she asked.
Paul thought for a moment. "I honestly can't tell for sure. Nothing looks too out of the ordinary just yet. We just need to stay alert until we know for sure."
"I know," Julie said. She looked back down at the map, using a small flashlight to assist her. "Next exit in three miles," she said.
"Okay, thank you," Paul said, even though he saw the sign for exit a few miles back. "Let me put it this way," Paul continued, "we'll know just how safe Colorado is once we make our first gas stop."
Coincidentally, there was a rest stop before the exit. Paul took instant notice of several eighteen-wheelers parked in a single line.
"Think we should stop for a closer inspection?" he asked Julie.
"Why not?" Julie answered flippantly.
Paul thought they could use a bathroom break anyway. Part of him wanted to stall their gas station arrival, as so much of their trip was relying on it. He veered into the rest stop lane and parked outside a single building with two restrooms and four machines. Not surprisingly, there was no power in the building. Paul's headlights illuminated their quiet surroundings. Not a single person was in sight.
"Are you sure about this?" Julie asked.
Paul turned into the nearest parking space. Other than the semi-trucks, there were no other cars around.
"We'll be fine," he said, holding up his pistol, non-registered. It's former owner, Edwin was a murderer who had it in for Paul since Day One. AS a result of their struggle, Paul put a bullet in his head. Julie remembered this and scowled at its sight.
"Ugh. I hate guns," she said. "I wish we could destroy every single one of them."
"So do I, but until that day comes, we need it to survive," Paul remarked.
He parked the Malibu and shut off the engine.
"Don't forget your flashlight, and stay close," he said.
They exited the car and walked towards the restroom building. The silence of the highway was eerie enough, but the barren rest stop was even worse. Paul carefully moved alongside Julie as they walked. In between the bathrooms sat two vending and two soda machines. Paul shined his light into the area only to find that both vending machines had been vandalized and emptied. In the past few weeks they had seen enough crime and looting to last a lifetime. The vending machines were not a good sign.
"Use the bathroom, quick, I'll be out here waiting when I'm done," Paul said, and they went their separate ways.
The men's bathroom was dirty and unkempt, but unoccupied, much to Paul's relief. It occurred to him that he probably should have checked the girl's bathroom before Julie went in,
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