“Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I say.
Aiden gives a sidelong glance at me and lets out a little chuckle. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any flying monkeys.”
“Or wicked witches.”
For miles, we’ve been driving along a river valley with hills on both sides of us. But then the hills to the left drop away, and we’re on the bank of a vast lake. Beyond the lake, snowcapped mountains rise far off in the distance.
The cars on the side of the road have gone from sparse to nonexistent. For the first part of our journey, we couldn’t go a mile without running into old burned-out vehicles or a pileup we had to steer around. But it’s been at least an hour since we’ve seen anything.
“Hey, Aiden. Where do you think all the cars went?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself. It’s like somebody’s cleared them all away.”
We keep driving along the lake’s perimeter until a sign for Sandpoint, Idaho, goes speeding by.
Aiden sighs. “Going through towns sucks. But our gas situation is getting critical. We’re going to have to risk it.”
I lean over and check the gauge. It’s well below a quarter tank, and we used our last backup tank about an hour ago. “Yeah. I’d guess we can only make it another forty-ish miles before running out, and I’d hate to get stuck in the middle of northern Idaho.”
When we get to Sandpoint, we drive down one of the major arterial roads. There’s not a single car to be seen.
“Okay, now this is just plain strange.” Aiden’s brow wrinkles. “Somebody has deliberately removed every car. What on earth for?”
“No idea. But this whole town is giving me the creeps.” The hair on my neck stands up.
Out the side window, the streets are empty, with nothing for blocks in all directions. An old Victorian house comes into view. It’s a classic painted lady in hues of lavender, blue, and green. And in the driveway, an old Oldsmobile sits up on cinder blocks.
“Check that out.” I point ahead to the car. “Guess they couldn’t tow that one away. Think it might have some gas?”
“Hmm, it’s worth a try.”
Aiden parks the car, and we hop out. He works on the siphon while I keep watch, looking up and down the street. The house probably dates to the early 1900s. The lawn is overgrown, the paint is peeling, and pieces of its filigree are falling off.
My stomach twists as a curtain moves on the second floor. An old woman with long gray hair and a scowl on her face peers out at me. I make eye contact, and she immediately shuts the blinds.
“There was a woman up there.” I point to the window.
Aiden’s forehead creases as he looks back and forth down the street. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Let’s get going.”
“Yeah, I’m with ya.”
We hop back in the car and head to the highway as fast as possible.
“Do you think that car was a trap?” I ask.
“If I were going to set up a trap, that’s exactly how I’d do it.”
We get back on the highway and speed out of town. There’s no sign of any pursuit, but I keep my attention focused just in case. The road is empty, and after about five miles, my nerves settle down.
We’ve made it another twenty miles, and still no cars. The gas gauge is a hair away from empty when I spot an old gas station by the side of the road. The pumps look straight from the 1950s, all red with an analog readout. A glass globe on top readsGasolinein flowing script.
“Hey, Aiden, pull in here.”
“Got an idea?” Aiden slows the car down.
“Yeah, maybe I can jury-rig one of these old pumps. They’re strictly mechanical, so I might be able to bypass the fuel pump.”
“We’re running out of options. Only a few miles left in this tank. Let’s give it a shot.”
