“But what if you don’t come back?”
“I’ll come back. You don’t need to worry about that. You stay here and keep your mom safe, okay?”
The boy nodded and then leaned in closer to him, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“I wasn’t asleep last night when you guys were talking.”
“You weren’t?” Quinn whispered back.
“No. Mom didn’t tell the truth.”
“About what?”
“About me talking about you after we left you. I asked why you weren’t coming with us, and she told me to be quiet, so I did. I wanted to go back, but she decided to come find you.” Ty turned his head toward his mother, but she seemed to be dozing again, her hand resting lightly on the rifle.
Quinn squinted at the boy and then squeezed his hand.
“I’m really glad you guys came back.”
“Me too.”
“Okay, go sit with your mom. If you hear anything after I leave, you wake her up, all right?”
“All right.”
“See you soon, little man.”
Quinn moved through the door and locked it behind him. He eyed the mountain bike leaning against the wall. It was quiet, but not fast enough to outrun anything other than a man. He walked around the side of the building, re-adjusting Alice’s holster on his hip, and spotted a maintenance shed set back close to the encroaching woods. The door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside, the smell of cool concrete and gasoline assaulted him. A shape sat in the dark near the rear of the shed, and he threw the doors wider, illuminating the Honda side-by-side ATV. A key jutted from the ignition. He climbed inside the machine and turned the key, ready to return to the mountain bike, but the engine responded with an enthusiastic growl that became a hum. In a matter of minutes, he had backed out of the shed and was howling down the paved road leading away from the recreation center.
The wind coursed past him, flowing through his hair. Sunlight slipped between trees filling his sight with its honey glow. The road flew past, and he pressed the pedal down, increasing his speed. The aches and pains of the prior day’s injuries retreated with the exhilaration of driving the ATV. Driveways scrolled by, mailboxes, an empty car. The road was his, and he had a clear purpose, people depending on him. The miles fled behind him, and he watched the wood lines, searching for pale skin or swaying movement.
The town of Ferry boasted a population of fifteen thousand people according to its welcome sign. To the south a great field of rotting cornstalks waved in the wind, and the north held a giant building with a sign proclaiming Ferry Poultry Inc. that gave off such a tremendous odor of death Quinn gagged as he passed by. The rest of Ferry, Ohio, was a conglomeration of meek, single-story businesses and homes set into the side of a sweeping hill that hadn’t gained the full shade of green it would become as summer grew stronger.
Quinn slowed the ATV and stopped at the mouth of the main street running into and out of town. He waited, watching the side alleys as well as windows and roofs.
Nothing moved.
He idled forward, throwing a look back over his shoulder.
The road was empty, the sun a hand’s width from the horizon.
He unfolded the map he’d brought from the lodge and studied the expanded view of Ferry. The business district consisted of four streets that intersected in a hashtag pattern. The business names weren’t listed anywhere on the map. He refolded the pages and placed it in the glove compartment before urging the Honda forward.