The Bridge is Out

We waited too long to leave. Someone bought up land, and the bridge became private property and was gated off. We had no cash, no gold, no gas, just two cars and a whole lot of shit. Teagan was carrying milk for the anti-christ, or at least what everyone else believed was the anti-christ. I was like, “This is bullshit. This is just all these dumb rednecks in Redding,” but communication systems were down, so I couldn’t really check to see if things were “normal” elsewhere. “Yeah, I mean we don’t really want to head south to Sacramento. That’s where everyone else is going.” So I mapped out an overland route, zigzagging north. “See if you can get some horses.”

“But, but what about the cars? And all this stuff?”

“Screw this stuff! See if there are any abandoned horses in Bella Vista. Mules too. Horses might not be so good the way we’re going, or at least the way I routed on the map. I mean if you really want and find a horse trailer, maybe we can take a truck part way. Steal them if you have to, just for gods’ sake, don’t get caught.”

The countryside was desolate, with a few gold miners here and there, and stacks of hay and wheat 10 feet high.

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