“Who’s here?” McCardle’s voice was a bark.
I tensed. “I don’t know. I swear. I don’t know.” This was mostly true. I didn’t recognize the silver sedan, but the Oklahoma license plate gave me a good idea to whom it might belong. My spirit lightened. Hope fizzed in me. They’d gotten my message. Adam and Meg were here. I tried to keep my face neutral.
I glanced sidelong at the black hilt of Meg’s gun still tucked in McCardle’s waistband. Maybe it was selfish of me, wishing they were there, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to survive.
McCardle pushed the gear into park. The rabbit’s foot swung and then stopped. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, climbing out.
I craned around to watch him pull the tarp off the glass coffin and roll it carefully, lowering it to the dirt. The mutant corpse now stared up at the sky with his stolen eyes. Next he loaded the box of tools I’d told him I’d need. For what, I didn’t know yet. I didn’t have a plan. “Not much longer,” I heard McCardle murmur to the body. “So close.”
I turned back on the bench. What did he mean it didn’t matter? He’d sounded so sure of himself. A vague uneasiness spread through my limbs.
He opened the door, and misty rain sprayed my cheeks. “Get out,” he said.
“You’re going to have to untie me.” I stared straight ahead, unmoving. “I’m not going to be much help if I have my hands tied together.”
Another spike of fear punctured my lungs when the buck knife slipped between my hands. There was a pop, and the ropes fell to the floorboard. I rubbed my wrists and moaned.
McCardle spat on the ground then took the gun from his waistband and flipped off the safety. “Well?”
I climbed out. The storm breeze flattened the shirt against my stomach. Even though the generators belonged to my dad, the woods felt like McCardle’s territory.
“You move him.” McCardle wiped his nose on his sleeve and trained the gun’s barrel at my heart.
“Me?”
He nodded with the barrel, a language that translated universally. I went round to the back of the truck. McCardle had rigged a crude wagon, where the casket lay on a plank of wood with four wheels and rope tied to it. I shuddered to think where else he’d taken his son.
He grabbed a lantern from the truck bed. The yellow glow cast a short path in front of us. I strained my weight against the rope, and together we entered the forest.
My back tightened against the weight of the coffin as I pulled it over uneven ground, stumbling every few steps. My eyes kept scanning the trees for signs of Adam. The soles of my shoes dug into the soft ground. Only spare raindrops fell through the canopy. Icy cold, they stung at my skin. The rustling of brittle leaves from above drowned out all sound.
Nearby, McCardle stalked through the woods, walking heel to toe like a predator. He swept the surrounding area with his gun. I was breathing hard now under the burden of the casket. A monstrous curiosity caused me to keep looking back, to study the body with the bulging eyes, which was only a shadow now sloshing over the forest floor.
Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the trees to their roots. I chewed on my cheek and continued our crawl forward. With every step, I expected to see Adam. Where was Adam? He’d saved me from Knox. He’d stayed close when he thought I was in danger. I needed him now more than ever.
We were getting closer now. McCardle stretched out his arm, the one with the lantern. “Shhhh, do you hear that?”
I strained my ears to listen. My pulse thudded. “No.”
We walked a few more yards, then I heard it. It sounded like crying. I felt the beat of my heart like a ticking time bomb in my chest.
“Someone’s come to join us.” I didn’t like how he said that. “Watch your step now,” he said. “Follow right after me.”
My ears rang. Or else what?
I heeded McCardle’s advice. We snaked our way through the trees. He watched the ground closely. The crying grew louder.
I jumped at the sound of a metal clap behind the wheeled coffin. McCardle paused. He held his lantern high over his head. “Looks like you found one.” On the ground, the jaws of a bear trap had clamped shut after one of the wheels had passed over it.
McCardle lowered the light and continued on. I hurried to stay near.
“Hello?” I heard the quiet call of Meg’s voice over the rustling branches. “Hello, is someone there? We need help.”
The rain poured harder over the foliage. More of it trickled onto the bare spots of my skin. My hands were freezing around the rope. We entered the empty clearing. The sobbing felt nearby now. I looked frantically around before I saw Meg’s face, a few paces away on the outskirts of the clearing. It was twisted in agony. She sat on the ground next to a figure that was lying prostrate.
“Adam.” My voice was hoarse. “What’s wrong with him? Adam?” I called.