“But I went to Foster’s first and then came this way.”
“I know. We went back to the house where we left you, and when you weren’t there, I figured that would be the next place you’d go. The directions were in the center console. So we went there and saw you’d been there, or somebody had. I was sure it was you, so we took the most obvious route west. The bridge you crossed was the only one for twenty miles. We got there as they were hauling you and your truck away, so we went farther north and found a place to cross before coming back down to The First Church of Eternal Salvation.” She said the cult’s name in a sarcastic voice and made quotation marks in the air. “Bastards even had the name plastered on the side of the van they put you in. After that we waited until dark and idled along in low gear next to their stupid fence until I could see that crucifix over the top and stopped there. It wasn’t long until they brought you out.”
“That’s amazing.”
“No, what’s amazing is Ty wouldn’t shut up about going back to find you. Just so you know, that’s the only reason I decided to come back.”
“I never meant to endanger him at that house. I had no idea the woman wasn’t immune.”
“I know. But you trusted someone.” She readjusted Ty where he leaned against her and glanced over at him. “Just don’t do it ever again, okay?”
“Okay.”
They woke Ty a short time later and set off again. After crossing the stream, Quinn managed to find the dog’s footprints in a stretch of mud leading into denser forest. Without a machete, there was no possible way for them to move through its tangle, especially with Alice’s wound that had begun to weep blood again. She waved off his offer to carry her when he mentioned it.
“I’m a little old for piggyback, and you’re not carrying me like a sack of potatoes,” she said, muscling past him with a limp. Instead, they circumvented the thicket, traveling east along its edge. Quinn kept shifting his gaze to the underbrush, sure that every so often he spotted a dark patch of fur or the flash of a collar out of the corner of his eye.
The day passed into afternoon and then into evening. Shadows slanted from the trees and grew long, covering twice their physical forms. The constant breeze died and with it came the renewed smells of woodland in spring: the heady scent of blooming flowers, pine sap running, the whiff of decomposing leaves.
The air grew heavy as night crept closer, and in the distance, it sounded as if a huge rockslide had given way.
“Storm’s coming,” Alice said. “That’s gonna suck.”
“I’ll try to figure something out,” Quinn replied.
“Yeah, if you can magic us a four-star bed and breakfast, that would be great. Oh, and a bottle of that nice vodka we had at your house.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Quinn said, smiling. He was about to suggest stopping beneath the bows of a tall balsam nearby when he caught the shine of something through the trees straight ahead.
“Wait here,” he said, raising the AR-15 to his shoulder. He moved away, keeping low to the ground, ignoring Alice’s whispered questions. He crept from tree to tree, taking cover behind each one and waiting a beat before crossing another open distance. When he had no more trees to hide behind, he eased out, bringing the rifle up at the same time.