She turned to him, shaking in the darkness, the rain a steady roar around them like a liquid inferno.
“He went back in. He went back in for my little sister, and neither one of them came out.” She wiped at her face and sniffled, reminding him so much of Ty the night before, crying over his lost stick. “My mom didn’t have early onset dementia. She had a total break with reality the night we lost them. She never recognized me again after that.”
“God,” Quinn whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I locked up when the fire started the other night. I can’t stand it. Whenever there’s one near me, I feel like I’m being watched. Like it got a taste of me that night and it won’t give up until it’s gotten the rest.”
He searched for something to say, but there was nothing. Sometimes words were the most insubstantial things in the world. Instead, he reached out and found her arm in the dark. She jerked at his touch, but he let his fingers glide down to her wrist, over the dainty bones there, and then slide into her hand. She hesitated for a second and then gripped his palm in her own.
They sat that way for a long time. The endless rain fell around them, their breath beginning to fog the side windows. He could’ve remained there forever. Slowly, she released his hand and finished wiping the last of her tears away.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” she said. “I don’t know why I just told you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Why?”
“Because no one should have to carry everything alone.”
Lightning flickered, and he saw the frown knitting her eyebrows together, her gaze locked on him.
“I don’t get you,” she said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” She turned in her seat, wincing as she moved her leg, and checked on Ty. “I’m so glad he can sleep. It would be so much harder if he couldn’t.” She settled back into her seat, trying to get comfortable.
He was about to reply when lightning blazed across the sky in a white lance, and Alice gasped, pointing out the windshield.
The dog stood watching the car from the edge of the woods.
Quinn jerked in his seat, ripping the rifle up from where it rested beside him. The last flutterings of light shone in the dog’s eyes and then darkness coated the windows black.
“Holy shit,” Alice said, wiping away the condensation from her window. “What the fuck is it doing?”
Quinn leaned forward, trying to see the place where the dog stood, but the night was impenetrable.
“I don’t know. It looked like—”
His words slid away as lightning flared again, outlining every branch, tree, and bush.
The dog was gone.
Chapter 21
Sanctuary and Flight
In the morning they left the sunken Studebaker behind to continue rusting in its hidden place.
The overgrown trail the abandoned car sat in led them southwest, its line curving and dipping into a shallow swamp before rising again to a high stand of oaks, all green tipped and still dripping from the storm the night before. The sun rose with the same ferocity as the storm, and the day heated like an oven coming to temperature. Alice tried to walk on her own, and managed to for a while, her hand loosely holding Ty’s, but near mid-day she leaned on the trunk of a tree and shook her head.
“I’ve gotta rest. Can’t go any more right now.”
“It’s okay. You two take a breather, and I’ll scout ahead.”
“Don’t get kidnapped by a cult, huh?” Alice said as he moved away. “Not sure I can come save your ass this time.”
Quinn gave her a smile and walked over a slight rise that dropped into a gully. He waded through piles of fallen leaves a foot deep and climbed the other side, muscling up a short ridge before stopping. He took two steps and walked onto a hiking trail.
He stood there gazing down its length that stretched in either direction for what seemed like miles. Straight ahead the trail became a T, and across the path was a faded wooden sign, its carved letters highlighted in yellow paint.
Crowfoot County Park