Ellie just stared at him, her whole body shaking as her eyes welled up with fresh tears. “Those doctors wouldn’t kill Mom. They said she was special. They said her blood . . . what she had inside her . . . that she might even be able to cure what’s happening . . .”
“They broke her, Ellie. There were tests and they worked her too hard. Your mother got weak. That’s why I stopped taking you to see her. She got so weak, Ellie, and I didn’t want you to see her like that. And those doctors, they never stopped, they never let up. They wanted your mom to be the cure for this thing so badly that they used her up until there was nothing left.”
“But the police are looking for you,” she said. “It has nothing to do with back home, does it? There is no quarantine back home, is there?”
“No,” he said.
“If you didn’t do anything, then why are the police looking for you?”
He cradled the back of her head, rubbed his thumb through her hair.
“They’re not looking for me, baby,” he said. “They’re looking for you. That special thing about your mom, that one-ina-trillion resistance she had against the disease that made her immune . . . you’ve got it, too. It’s in you, too. You’re immune, Ellie.” He pulled her close to him so that their foreheads touched. “But I’m not going to let them take you. I’m not going to let them find you.”
Trembling, she pushed him away from her.
“Wait,” he said.
“I’m gonna be sick.” She shoved open the passenger door and staggered out into the grass. She braced herself against the back of the billboard with one hand and bent at the waist.
“Honey.” He slid across the seats and got out the passenger side. He reached her, rubbed her back, bent down to her level. She didn’t get sick; she just stared absently at the ground, at the incongruous bursts of wildflowers that surrounded them, spitting occasionally into the weeds. Gnats orbited around their heads.
After a time, she straightened herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes as her chest hitched one last time. Then she looked up at him, wincing in the blaze of the sun that was at his back.
He grabbed her, held her tight against him. He inhaled the scent of her hair, her clothes, her skin. He felt the gentle undulation of her ribs as he rubbed his hands along her sides. Faintly, he was aware of insects chirping in the trees, of the heat from the sun baking the nape of his neck, of the occasional shush of a vehicle trolling down the highway on the other side of the billboard.
He squeezed her more tightly.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” he said, letting her go. “For now, let’s get back in the car.”
Wordlessly, she crawled back into the car, her shadow rippling across the overgrown grass behind the billboard.
That news broadcast had punched him in the gut, and he knew he would have to shift things into a higher gear from here on out. I can’t believe they’ve started looking for us so soon, he thought as he pulled back out onto the highway. They were the only car straight out to either horizon. They reported that we’re driving the Bronco. That’s something, at least. It may take them a while to realize we’re in a different car. Hell, they may never figure that out.
So all hope wasn’t lost.
“Put your hat back on,” he instructed her.
She did so without uttering a word. Then she turned and stared out the window. This time, she cried in silence.
15
David drove for about an hour, piloted by the foolish compulsion that the more distance he created between themselves and the diner, the safer they were. The highway was eerily empty, and they were joined by only a few cars every once in a while. David did his best to avoid running alongside them, leaving a wide berth of glistening pavement between them, but occasionally a car would sidle up beside the Olds and trot there for a minute or two. When this happened, David couldn’t help but glance at the vehicle’s occupants, terrified that they might look at him and recognize him. But these people—these strangers—possessed the expressionless faces of alien life forms, and rarely did someone even return his glance through the barrier of windows that separated them.
When a police cruiser appeared in the rearview mirror, David felt a tightening in his chest. He wondered if the waitress had been paying too close attention in the diner after all. He decided to take the next exit and see if the cruiser followed him before he started to panic. When the ramp appeared on the right-hand shoulder, David turned on his blinker and took it. Holding his breath, he kept his eyes trained on the cruiser in the rearview mirror. Ellie’s crying had eventually lulled her to sleep, but the car’s quick movements jolted her awake. Startled, she looked at him, then turned around in her seat to peer through the rear windshield.
“Don’t do that,” he said sharply. “Turn around.”
Without a word, she turned around.
The cruiser followed them down the exit ramp.
Christ, no.