With Anna’s help he’d managed, over the few fragile weeks he’d had, to stockpile supplies. They’d been set up in a small cave near a ramshackle hut in the Tennesee backwoods. The creek nearby would provide fresh water and, God forbid the virus transferred to animals, he could trap and hunt for food.

He should be able to survive several months hiding back there. The authorities wouldn’t find him. Only Anna knew about it, and she’d be gone before the end of the week.

Driving overnight he finally arrived exhausted the following morning driving the truck into a small, tiny barn to hide it from a casual observer.

He got out of the truck, pulling the last few bags of supplies with him and went to the hut door.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Paul turned, stunned. A petite blonde stood there, he recognized her gear instantly, a spelunker.

Damn! If she found his supplies.

“We need help, my brother fell, I can’t get him out.”

Paul hesitated, was there any point in helping, the woman was dead already.