Cold, so cold...
buzzing in her ears
hang onto the car door, sit down, breathe
She turned her body and fell into the seat, dropping her head between her knees and trying to unlock the weight in her chest so she could get some air. Think, Carol, think -
driving, driving, always away from there
they used a tank
hyperventilating
stopping the car to put her head down again and keep from blacking out
think, carol, think
where were they supposed to meet
what would it mean if she went there and found no one?
Breathe, Carol. Her head came up in startled reflex as she heard his voice. Right there. Right in her ear. She instinctively reached for his hand and found only the console between the seats. Terrific. Now I'm hallucinating. The shock cleared her head, though, and she dragged a deep, shuddering breath through her nose, finding a calm place in the center of herself where she could think again. She checked the mirrors and the road ahead and saw nothing to alarm her; set her face toward the west, and put the car back in gear.
A little further on she turned south, headed for the abandoned farm that had been their closest bug-out point. For once she was grateful for the perpetual discussions and planning sessions where they wrestled with the high probability that eventually, someone or something would make it impossible for them to stay in their home. She knew exactly where she was going, and she had a good idea what to do next if she got there and found they'd already been and gone. She wasn't prepared for what she found.
Cut into the wall of the barn, looking for all the world like a child's idle vandalism, were a crudely-rendered owl, a circle with four radiating arms, and off to the side a five-petaled flower with a wide, round center. The owl was a sort of in-joke among the original survivors, and had been chosen as their symbol to mark any messages because it was easy to draw. The circle was a compass, and Carol could see now that there was an extra mark in the northwest quadrant. The flower… was a message for her alone. Daryl.
Their cache of emergency supplies was empty, as she had expected, and somehow that gave her more hope than she had thought possible. If only he had made it this far, some of it would have been left for anyone who followed. If it was empty now, that meant that others had cleaned it out. Unless he had done so himself, knowing no one else was coming. Strangers could have raided it, before or since, but it had been well-hidden enough that she doubted it, and if it made her feel better to think so - well, she was happy to continue deluding herself for a while longer. The one thing she was absolutely sure of was that he had been here, alive, and in one supreme, ridiculous act of faith he had left her a sign that only she would understand. How could she do anything but try to follow it?
She checked the car's fuel gauge and felt a twinge of uneasiness at the level it showed. That was something she would have remedy sooner rather than later, and she cursed herself silently for having neglected something so basic and essential. See what happens when you're busy losing your mind, Carol? Screw-ups like that can get you killed. And for the first time in days, she realized that she wanted to stay alive.