No response from the driver. The glare from the floodlights on the roof of the farmhouse made it impossible to see inside the SUV’s windows. There could be a small army in there, David thought.
Tim descended a single step. He raised the shotgun to eye level, still pointing it at the vehicle. From his position on the porch, David released a shuddery breath. Sweat stung his eyes. The gun was slippery with perspiration and suddenly difficult to hold.
The rear door of the SUV opened, and a man in a camouflaged jumpsuit stepped out. He was a big man, broad across the chest. He held a rifle but kept it pointed at the ground.
“No one has to die here tonight,” the man announced. He was pale-skinned and with a few days’ growth of dark beard wreathing his jawline. The hair on top of his head was cut high and tight, in a military fashion.
“Who the hell are you?” Tim said.
“Doesn’t matter.” The man’s voice was calm, the expression on his face almost friendly. “Put your gun down.”
“Like hell,” Tim said.
“Do it.” It was a woman’s voice, right at their back. David turned and saw Gany standing in the doorway, the shotgun pointing at Tim’s back. “Put the gun down, Tim.” She looked in David’s direction. “You, too, David.”
“Ah, Gany.” Tim sounded like a disappointed parent. “What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”
Gany’s face was firm, expressionless. “I’m not mixed up,” she said. There was an edge to her tone, an apprehension. “Now, put that gun down, Tim. I’m not joking.”
“Better listen to her,” said the man in the jumpsuit as he closed the distance between them. A second man stepped out of the driver’s side of the SUV. He sported a frizzy salt-and-pepper beard that hung down to his collarbone, and he wore a red bandanna on his head. He had a pistol in a holster at his hip.
In slow motion, Tim set the shotgun down on the porch. Then he raised both hands.
Gany swiveled her weapon in David’s direction.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“She’s inside,” said Gany. “She’s fine. Now, put the gun down.”
“Ellie!” he shouted. When the girl didn’t respond, he called her name again.
Faintly, from within the belly of the house: “Daddy . . .”
“Put the gun down and you can go be with her,” Gany said.
David knelt and set the pistol down at his feet.
“In the house,” said Jumpsuit, coming up the porch steps.
Gany stepped aside and Tim went through the door. David followed.
They were shepherded into the living room, where Ellie was sitting on the sofa. As David came into the room, Ellie jumped up and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head.
Gany, Jumpsuit, and Bandanna came into the room. Jumpsuit handed his rifle to Bandanna, and the instant the gun was out of his hands, a broad smile filled his face. He motioned to the sofa. “Why don’t the three of you have a seat.”
No one moved.
Jumpsuit’s smile fell away. “Sit down.”
They sat, Ellie wedged between them on the sofa. David kept an arm around her.
“So, you’re Tim,” Jumpsuit said, the broad smile returning. “Heard a lot about you.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Tim growled.
“That’s not important. What’s important is this little lady right here.” Jumpsuit fixed his gaze on Ellie. He took a step toward her and bent at the knees to meet her eyes. “Hello, darling.”
Ellie quaked and David squeezed her against him.
“I heard tell that you possess some rather unusual abilities, sweetheart,” said Jumpsuit.
David looked at Gany. “What’d you tell them?”
Gany returned his stare but didn’t respond. She held the shotgun on him.
“There’ve been rumors circulating the underground about people who’ve been displaying some unique talents lately,” Jumpsuit continued. That smile was still firmly etched onto his face. This close, and in the soft light of the living room, David could see a puckered pink scar traversing the left side of his face, from temple to the lower corner of his jaw. “Some say there’s folks out there can actually heal the sick. Can you imagine?”
Jumpsuit reached out as if to caress the side of Ellie’s face, but David slapped his hand away before he could manage it. Without missing a beat, the guy in the bandanna had his pistol out of its holster and pointed it at David.
“Don’t you touch her,” David warned him.
Jumpsuit stood and raised both hands, as if to show that he’d meant no harm by the gesture. He kept his eyes on Ellie.
“Gany says she witnessed you doing a little magic of your own, sweetheart,” Jumpsuit said. “Tried to help a dying girl out on some highway. Is this true?”
Ellie said nothing.
“You try and save some girl’s life?”
“No,” Ellie said curtly.
Jumpsuit’s eyebrows arched. “No?” he said. “Then what was it you did out there?”