Page 22 of What Remains

"Bring them back safe," he said. "And yourself."

Jay clapped his shoulder. "Count on it."

Sawyer turned to Seth last. The two men shared a long, wordless look before Sawyer extended his hand.

"You watch his six," he said. "He watches yours. That's the job."

Seth took the handshake firmly. "Done."

"I know," Sawyer answered, and he meant it. He saw the resolve in Seth's eyes.

Cara knelt to scratch Watch between the ears. His tail thumped a frantic, uncertain rhythm against the floorboards. "Guard them," she whispered. "Good boy."

Watch whined softly and pressed his forehead against her knee, as close to a promise as a dog could offer.

Finally, Jay opened the door. A sharp bite of morning cold swept in, carrying the scent of frost and damp earth. The world outside waited, quiet and expectant.

They stepped onto the porch—Jay in front, Cara close behind, Seth last. Addy and Sawyer stood framed in the doorway, arms around each other, watching, hoping.

Jay lifted a hand in a small wave. Addy raised one back, already crying softly against Sawyer's shoulder, while he stood immovable beside her, eyes fixed on some point past Jay's shoulder.

They walked toward the SUV and trailer, boots crunching through the thawing snow, packs shifting against their shoulders. Every crunch of their boots felt unnaturally loud in the stillness.

Once inside the vehicle, Jay started the engine. It rumbled to life beneath them.

This marked the beginning.

First stop: a car lot for a second vehicle and all the fuel they could carry. After that, the long road to Denver. It was farther than any of them had ventured since the world fell apart, and the thought settled like a stone in her gut.

Jay exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel with both hands. "Ready?"

Seth nodded. So did Cara, though her fingers trembled once against her knee before going still.

The SUV rolled forward, tires biting into the thawing dirt.

Chapter 5

Desperate Dawn

Spring had arrived, but only dread and urgency thrummed in Josie's chest as she tied her boots tight, her hands shaking—not from the cold, but from what she intended to do.

"Today is the day," she repeated in her head like a chant. "Today I go into McKale's house."

She'd planned this for weeks, waiting for the thaw, for more daylight and if she was being honest for courage she'd begun to doubt would ever come. Every ration scraped from the bottom of a can was a reminder of Denver. Slim as the odds were that her parents still lived, Layla deserved the chance to find out. She deserved more than just her mother.

Layla slept on downstairs, curled in her nest of blankets near the fireplace, the embers burning low and casting a soft glow across her tiny form. Josie paused on the basement steps, watching her little girl breathe steadily, one small fist tucked beneath her cheek. She whispered a promise she desperately wanted to keep.

"I'll be back before you wake up."

She slipped the makeshift wooden bar from the basement door and eased it open, careful not to let the hinges creak. The air that met her from upstairs was frigid compared to the basement's warmth. Frost traced the edges of the windows.

Josie crossed to the garage door. She hit the manual release and lifted the heavy door, light spilling across the concrete.

Mark's old SUV sat exactly where she'd left it—four-wheel drive, full tank, ready and waiting. She ran a hand along its hood, steadying herself against the metal.

"This is it," she whispered.

She stepped outside, pulled the garage door shut behind her, and scanned the street. An eerie silence held the neighborhood. Wind stirred old leaves; nothing else moved. Good.