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We basicly lost all the time we'd put in that day when I turned the truck around at that damn barricade. I needed to get us as far away from those people as I could because I was very sure they intended to kill me and put Raf into slavery. If that happened, then I'd fail my mission and brake the promise I made to my parents. That can't happen, not now not ever. Your Delta Force, Delta doesn't fail. The worst thing about this was that it took nearly five hours to drive out that far and now...I wasn't sure.

"What are we going to do now?", Raf asked.

"I'm not sure", I replied, "were losing travel time for sure, how much...that's another question."

Raf stayed quiet for a long time after that. So did I. I was trying to figure out what we were doing to do. The Interstate, our best shot of getting to Texas, was blocked by a cult of crazy people who think guys are all bad. I looked at the clock on the dash, it was 1:10 PM. More than six hours just went down the drain, lovely. The sun was out high now and the wind was cool blowing. I rolled the windows down and let my arm hang out of the truck. Raf was staring out of his over the vacant interstate. His face was red and his nose was peeling with sunburn. Skin cancer was the furthest thing from my mind, but I could hear Mom's outdoors lectures from years ago chastising me for not putting on sun screen. It was about an hour after we had turned around when Raf spoke up again.

"I'm starting to hurt Cameron", Raf said.

"Yeah", I said shifting and moving in my seat, "I'm starting to cramp too, we'll stop first gas station we find 'cause we need diesel."

Not long after, I saw a sign that said "Exit 61, "Food, Gas, Lodging." I switched lanes and soon I was on the exit ramp into Baileytown. It was a small little town, the population sign said about 1,260. From the ramp I could see a Conoco gas station, a bank and a 36 Hotel. I pulled into the gas station and killed the engine before sliding out and stretching. The station was part of a truckstop. I could see hundreds of semis all lined up. I wondered how many of them contained the dead. At least if the pumps didn't work, there was plenty of diesel.

"Why don't you go look around?", I said, "raid the store and see what foodstuffs you can find, I'll see if these pumps work and if they don't, I'll raid those rigs."

"Sounds fair", Raf said, "but...what if there are more people around?"

I had been so preoccupied, I hadn't considered the idea that there would be more bandits around. How fuckin stupid can you be?

"Stay where you can see the truck", I said, "and take your AK."

Raf grabbed his gun from the backseat and entered the store. I turned my attention on the pumps and the first thing I noticed was "broke". I tried the one beside it, "out of gas." Sighing, I grabbed the siphon pump and one of the cans from the truck and went over to the closest semi. I could hardly fit in the spaces between the two rigs, but the tight space was nothing compared to the need for fuel. Once I managed to get the hose into the tank, everything else just followed. It took me about a half hour to drain the rigs of the gas I needed to fill the truck and top off the cans. In all honesty, I wasn't sure why I was taking the time to stop and look for gas when I needed to make up for a full day's of travel. Because if you didn't stop you could kill yourself and Raf.

Once I'd taken care of the fuel issue, I went into the store to look for Raf. I found him in the back gathering up some bottles of water, various snack foods and a few bottles of Tylenol, all things we needed.

"Got a little stash going I see", I said.

"Something like that", Raf replied, "but this is all I found."

"Can't say I'm surprised", I replied, "I've been thinking for a while now that stuff would get more scarce as we went down south."

"Speaking of", Raf asked, "what now?"

I sighed, to be honest, I was hoping Raf wouldn't ask that until I had something to give him.

"You want the truth?", I asked.

"Yeah", Raf said, "I can take it."

"I honestly have no clue what now. Unless we can find a way around Tennessee, were screwed."

"So we have to back and go around?"

"I'm not sure how yet, but yeah, it looks that way."

Raf didn't answer after that one. We searched the rest of he store in silence. We didn't come up with much besides the few things that Raf had found. We packed up the truck, grabbed a few bags of our snack foods and backed out of the station. Soon we were back on the Interstate, headed North. We had been going not even six minutes when I spotted an 2015 Toyota Tundra that was crashed into the guard rail. The back tires were gone and the entire truck was mangled in a way I'd never seen before and I'd once seen a LeMan's Prototype slam into a concrete wall at 230 miles an hour.

"What happened there?", Raf asked.

"Looks like someone lost the back tires and lost control", I said slowing to a stop.

"That sucks", Raf said as we got out.

The front end of the pickup was practically banana peeled. There was fluid dripping slowly out of the bottom and forming a puddle. The actual body of the truck was twisted almost to a right angle, scissor like if you will. There were several suitcases with stuff spilling out of them laying around the truck and I assumed that it must be the guy's stuff. I wondered how fast this guy must have been going to jackknife a '20 Tundra like an 18 wheeler, while simultaneously smashing the front end, that truck is built like a freaking tank.

"How fast you think this guy was going?", Raf asked.

"Too damn fast", I said, "he tore his truck apart."

I was bending down to inspect the frame damage when Raf suddenly jumped back and raised his rifle.

"What?", I asked.

"I swear that truck just whimpered", Raf replied.

"What?", I asked again.

"I'm not kidding", Raf said. He opened the rear door, "Cameron look at this!"

I walked around to Raf's side. Inside of the truck, was a blonde furred German Shepard. His fur was matted, he was malnourished and I could see the pain in is eyes from losing his master. Regardless of what people may tell you, any K9 Delta Operator, or any K9 Soldier for that matter, will tell you that animals, especially dogs, are smart and have feelings just like us. It wasn't surprising that he had stayed even after his master had been killed. I held out, letting him sniff me. He whimpered and then licked my hand.

"What's the matter boy?", I asked, "lost your master?"

He just whined. It reminded me of how I felt when Dad died, I remembered crying for hours.

"Yeah", I said petting him, "I know how you feel. Raf get him something with meat in it and some water, but not too much, I don't want to make him sick."

Raf ran back to the Chevy as I helped the Shepard out of the Tundra. He wobbled a bit, but soon was standing strongly. He even tried to jump at me and lick my face. He was happy to see us. Raf reached underneath the seat and grabbed a paper plate and a can of Ravioli. I pryed open the can and dumped it's contents onto the plate and slid it in front of the Shepard, who watched his movements with utter devotion. He ate the Ravioli without even breathing. Raf glanced at the pieces of the plate left and said.

"We should give him more."

"That's not a good idea", I replied petting him, "he looks like he hasn't eaten in a long while. Let's wait and see if it stays down, and then we can give him more."

Raf nodded, "he's got a collar on, what's his name?"

I checked the tag, "Jericho."

"Cool", Raf said, "that's a name."

I knew our caravan had now become three. For one, Raf had always wanted a dog. Two, there was no way I was going to just leave him here and three, any dog that will starve himself to death just to stay with his dead master is one that is worth having. Jericho was so hyper and playful that I decided to let him and Raf play while I made lunch. I had some Fajitas MRE's that I'd been dying to eat since I realized I had them, so I cooked them up. The smell made my mouth water and the sound of the meat which I had boiled and now was frying on our cast iron skillet with extra spices and a tad of our vegetable oil made me think I was in a high end Mexican restaurant.

Raf and I ate lunch in the back of the truck, while Jericho munched on another can of Ravioli on the road underneath us. After we'd eaten lunch, I let Raf and Jericho play for a while longer while I munched on a bag of Puffy Cheetos and tried to put a plan together. From what I could see on the map, we had lost about half of the distance we'd put on since arriving in Tennessee. The plan I hatched was this, if we could get back to Walnut Hill, we could get off of I81 and follow State Road 11 West into Bristol, get onto State Road 421 and follow that through Cherokee National Forest and from there we could go into North Carolina and get onto Interstate 77. That's at least a two day drive, not like before the outbreak where I could do it in eight or nine hours and anything can happen between now and then... If you want to talk about stress, there was the topic. I called to Raf, who came running with Jericho right behind him.

"Yeah Cameron?", he asked.

"Let's go", I said.

Jericho pawed at the back door of the truck, whining as he did. I pulled it open and he let off a loud bark before hopping in and making himself at home in the backseat. Now my truck is gonna smell like dog. Raf climbed into the passenger's seat and I the driver's.

"What's the plan Cameron?", Raf asked as I started the truck.

"Here's what I came up with", I said, "were going back to Walnut Hill."

Raf looked at me like I was crazy, "that's a long way to go."

"I know", I said, "once we get there, we'll get off I81 and head down State Road 11 into Bristol. From there we'll follow State Road 421 through Cherokee National Forest and into North Carolina, where we'll get onto Interstate 77."

"That's a long way to go", Raf said quietly.

"Yeah",I replied, "it is."

Fears of more bandits and getting turned around again went unspoken. Also going untouched was what the supply situation would be as we backtracked and completely changed routes. I had been wondering for a long time how long my luck would last and this time I knew for certain that it was out. All I had to rely on now was myself and the truck.

That afternoon was slightly better than the one's we'd been having. The sky was completely clear and glistening with pink, blue and gold colors. Raf's laughs and giggles as he played in the back seat with Jericho helped to take my mind off the situation at hand and allowed me to focus only on the road. The song that was blaring form the stereo was Weird Al's Word Crimes, one of my favorites, I found myself singing along.

"And I'd thought you'd gotten it through your skull on what's figurative and what's literal. Oh but, just now, you said, you literally couldn't get outta bed. That really makes me want to literally smack a crowbar upside your stupid head!"

Raf picked up, "I read your email! It's quite apparent, your grammar's errant, your incoherent. Saw your blog post! It's really fantastic, that was sarcastic, 'cause you write like a spastic. I hate these word crimes!"

Raf and I both laughed. Familiar scenery began to come into view as I drove. The hills and the asphalt, not really a sight for sore eyes. The street looked hazy, but that cold just be a result of being so damn tired. There was a cool wind blowing and I had the windows down and the AC off. Day slowly gave away into night and the cold set in. The windows went up and the heater came on. Raf, as he always did, had fallen asleep in the backseat, using Jericho, who was asleep as well, as a pillow. I was cute and I was tempted to take a picture of it.

I stopped to gas up from a white Mack that was sitting in the parking lot of a, Texaco station with a few lights on. The lights inside the convince store was flickering on and off like something out of a bad 1990's horror movie. When I pulled to a stop and opened the door, Jericho woke up and looked at me through his curious brown eyes.

"It's all right boy", I said petting his ears, "I'm just gonna look around, keep Raf safe for me will you?"

He wagged his tail as I slid out of the truck. The stars were out and the moon was high in the sky, casting a dim bluish glow over the vacant gas station. There was a cool wind blowing and for some reason the black night sky made it seem like it was up high and louder than it actually was. For some reason, I felt like I was someplace high as well, wasn't sure why. Upon trying the door to the dark store, I found it was locked tight and had burglar bars on it, which were also bolted from the other side, so I made no effort o try an enter. I drained the Mack of it's fuel and moved on.

The next rest stop I found I pulled in. It was a large two story building that had a scenic overlook and as flanked by vibrant landscaping. I pulled to a stop and shook Raf awake.

"We stopping?", Raf asked.

"Yeah", I said yawning, "how about you cook dinner? I'm just so freaking tired."

"Okay", Raf said as he slid out of the truck.

I grabbed my rifle and we walked into the rest stop. It was a fairly spacious layout. There was an info desk about ten feet from the doorway that led into office space. There was a tan rug that held two sofas and a wooden coffee table next to the wall and there were several chairs lining the back of the room.

Raf set the stove up on the coffee table and started making Alfredo MRE's while I cleaned up in the men's room. Thankfully the water was still on, so I was able to somewhat scrub myself. When I was done I pulled on a pair of underwear, boxers, a white T-shirt and my favorite pair of flannel pants. When I looked at myself in the mirror, the man staring back was saying I was pushing myself to hard. You need sleep, survive Agent Six, die in a car wreck. I shook my head at my thoughts and went back to the lounge area. Raf was well into the process of the MRE's and I could see he was trying to keep Jericho from burning his nose on the hot pot.

"Your gonna burn yourself boy", I said sitting down on the sofa, "your gonna burn yourself."

"How long do you think it will be back to walnut hill?", Raf asked.

"Oh", I said, "two days or so? Assuming of course I don't fall asleep at the wheel and crash the truck."

"You need to sleep more", Raf said, "I'm gonna sound like Dad for saying this, but your going to sleep in tomorrow, you need it. I' not a kid anymore Cameron. I can take care of stuff and if anything happens while your asleep, Jericho can probably handle it."

I sighed. He was right. Raf, though he was only 11, was a lot smarter and more clever that pretty much all boys his age. Dad used to say that the American Icon should be a boy with a rifle and a dog, that this was how he grew up. That's how he raised me too. I learned to shoot when I was only about six or seven and I got my first 5.56 bolt action when I was about 10. My dog Anne and I spent most of our time prowling around the back woods of our house. We hunted a lot of different animals from deer to even racoons. My family wasn't sport hunters either. Because we lived so far out of the way, we ate the meat off anything I shot, and I shot a lot. We also ate a lot of fish and grain too, which was why, despite not being the tallest kid in school, I was one of the strongest, which was why bullies left me alone. Raf wasn't raised this way. When I joined the military, Mom and Dad moved to Maine and left that life behind. Learning about the move had killed me.

Jericho hopped up on the couch next to me and lay down, he reminded me of Anne. I also remembered that when she passed away after losing a fight with heart worms, which no one was sure how she got, I cried for weeks. That wasn't going to happen with Jericho, at least I hopped. I began petting him as Raf finished the food. We ate dinner in relative silence, mostly due to me being so tired I couldn't even form proper thought. The lack of sleep and long hours of driving where beginning to get to me. Even a trained soldier could only go so far before they broke completely, and trust me, everyone has that point, even soldiers like me and my Dad will find it eventually. Not using my Dad in past tense, hmm, there's a switch. Shortly after dinner was done, I feel asleep.