He glanced at her then back at the road. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we were supposed to part ways in Portland.”
“Not sure you noticed but Portland didn’t really go as planned.”
“No, it didn’t, and I already thanked you for what you did but…”
“But now you want me gone.”
“We don’t know you, Quinn. You seem like a nice guy, but we do better alone.”
Ty began singing under his breath, an airy rendition of another popular song Quinn couldn’t name. His stomach roiled with hunger, and something else.
“I’m not in this for anything. I’m living in the same world you are. If you really want me gone, I’ll find another car in town.”
Alice wouldn’t meet his gaze, and Ty continued to sing.
“In any case, it was smart thinking to bring the map,” she said finally.
Quinn shrugged, begrudgingly. “My dad liked to plan; guess he passed it down to me.”
“What did he do?”
His mouth began to dry and he tried to swallow what felt like grit on his tongue. Not yet. The sign for the Belford exit appeared beside the road and he gestured at it.
“We’ll have to be careful,” he said, curving the Tahoe onto the off ramp. “We can almost be sure to run into one or more of them in town.”
Alice watched him for another span, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Finally she focused again on the landscape and slid the AR-15 beside her into her lap.
Belford appeared with a lone gas station beside the road, a dizzying amount of plastic pinwheels made to look like flowers spinning in the grass apron before the store. A county dump truck was parked beneath the tall awning along with a red Volkswagen Rabbit. The Rabbit’s door was open, and something dark lay on the ground beneath it. It was only when they pulled to a stop near one of the pumps that they saw it was a man’s severed leg, still covered in dress slacks, the end that should’ve attached to a hip, a ragged mess of red tissue and white bone.
“Let’s be quick,” Alice said, her eyes locked on the bloody splashes around the leg.
“Yep,” Quinn said, stopping at a pump.
When he stepped out, the air picked at his shirt, running its cool hands across his shoulders and neck. He shivered and looked up, avoiding the sight of the Rabbit and what was left of its occupant. The lights in the canopy still burned, and there were dark zeros in the digital readout of the pumps. Quinn filled the Tahoe’s tank and then re-filled the half-empty gas can in the back of the vehicle, all the while watching for movement behind the plate glass of the station or in the barren field filled with the prior year’s weeds.
When he finished, they left the station behind and cruised into Belford itself. The town was small with what appeared to be two main streets intersecting at its center. The outlying boundaries were filled with homes, yards beginning to green now that the snow was completely gone, dark windows gazing at them as they rolled past. A grocery store sat on the closest corner, coupons plastered against the inside of the front doors. Darkness hung inside the store, only the first rows of food visible from the street.
Quinn pulled the Tahoe to a stop at the curb, waiting for a full minute before putting the vehicle in park. They watched the street for a while, a dirty napkin and a plastic bag drifting on the sidewalk, the shine of the silver water tower looming above the buildings. Quinn leaned forward, squinting into the glare.
“What?” Alice asked.
“Thought I saw something move on the water tower.”
They both scanned the scaffold surrounding the bulbous structure, its top wearing a triangular hat of steel.
“I don’t see anything,” Alice said, sitting back.
“No, me neither.”
“Me neither,” Ty said, then giggled.
Alice closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Tyrus, that’s terrible.” To Quinn she said, “He picked up a twisted sense of humor somewhere.”