A Matter of Days by Amber Kizer

now it was as real as any currency.
    Late that night we crawled into our blanketed fort, which kept cozy warmth around us even in the wee hours.
    When dawn broke on the third day there was a part of me that wanted to stay forever but also a part that was itching to get going. This was just a stop on the journey and not the destination. It wouldn’t work long term for us to stay in the Cascades, not like this.
    “It’s time to move on.” Rab spoke to me even as his attention was fixed on the landscape outside the windows.
    “You think?”
    “The rain washed all the snow away.” Nothing white, only lots of greens and browns.
    It took us a couple of hours to load the car with the treasures we’d collected. Most wouldn’t fit. The truth was we hadn’t used much of what we brought with us, so there wasn’t room to restock.
    At the last minute, we loaded the rest of the supplies we’d gathered onto one of the carts and parked it by the information desk along with the notebook on how to turn on the generator. Just in case there were people behind us. Maybe they’d say a prayer for us in gratitude.
    I cleared my throat. “There’s another full gas can in the shed. Do we leave it in case someone else comes?”
    Rab shook his head. “What would Dad say?”
    “He’d tell us to take it because we’re the only ones we know for sure need it.”
    Unfortunately, I thought that would be the rule of life in this new world. What we knew for sure was us, and only us.
    We filled the gas tank of the Jeep and belted in. “Ready?” I asked.
    “Yep.”
    We drove down the other side of the mountains, making good time with clear skies and empty roads. I didn’t worry about the speed limit as I got the hang of driving. The farther we got into Eastern Washington, the warmer the temperature. Bright sun, fluffy clouds, and heat had us changing into T-shirts and driving with the windows down.
    “We need gas. There’s a big blank spot coming on the map.” Rabbit showed me.
    Lots of potential for nothing and no one
.
    In Quincy, we pulled into a neighborhood that looked hollow, as if a strong wind might blow through and knock all the facades down. It took five cars for us to find enough gas to fill up, but there was a long stretch of open road ahead before 28 crossed into 90 and Spokane.
    Rab lowered the map with a frown. “Dia?”
    “Yeah?” I didn’t take my eyes from the road as I steered with one hand and took a drink from my water bottle.
    “Did you notice that we’re on the road that passes by Fairchild Air Force Base?”
    “Oh.” I slowed down until the Jeep idled. Military bases were designated evacuation sites early on in the rampage. But the dead weren’t what caused my hesitation.
    Rabbit didn’t really have to continue. “If I were a crazy person looking for guns and tanks …”
    He trailed off, but I picked it up and ran. “You’d go to military bases looking for caches of firepower?”
    “Yeah, probably.”
    “Me too.” I nodded. “What’re our options?” He was navigator, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t all that good at reading and understanding maps. Give me step-by-step GPS software directions and I called it good.
    “Right, let’s cut south at Harrington and catch 90 that way.”
    I agreed and we drove on. Running alongside the road, packs of dogs resembled an old National Geographic special.
    “Are those wolves?” Rab asked as I slowed down to get a better look.
    A bloodhound, a couple of silver Weimaraners, and white and black cocker spaniels ran with mutts of every kind. All were muddy, matted, skinny, and no longer resembled anyone’s beloved pets. “No, I don’t think so.”
    They circled a cow and calf who bawled for rescue. I hit the accelerator knowing what was coming. “Turn up this song, I love it.”
    “You like this song?” Rab quizzed me, as if not even he liked this particular tune.
    I hit the volume as Rab turned in his seat to watch the dogs. “Rab, turn