by Nora Roberts
Fred dumped her pack, her coat, sat down on the big leather couch, sighed. “She really likes you, and trusts you. I can see why. Um, do you maybe have some ice? There were men in the tunnel, and they tried to … One of them punched me.”
Chuck gave her a long, quiet look as she cupped her bruised jaw. “A lot of people suck, that’s why I like the quiet.”
“A lot more don’t.”
“Maybe. I’ll set you up, Red Fred. Ice, beer, chips, and salsa.”
“Is it really spicy salsa?”
“Set your mouth on fire.”
“That’s my favorite kind.”
CHAPTER TEN
With Max at the wheel, they crossed the Susquehanna. The tire chains bit through the snow—an inch, then two—as they pushed west.
He picked up the 414, kept to the rural areas, passing a scatter of homes and little farms as the hills rolled and forests thickened. A few times, with Eddie asleep in the back, he worked with Lana to ease an abandoned or wrecked car onto the shoulder of the winding two-lane road.
“Maybe we should find a place to stop. You’ve been driving more than three hours, and the roads are getting worse.”
“We’ve barely hit a hundred miles today. I want more before we break.”
In the back, Eddie stirred, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. “Ain’t letting up, is it? Storm’s coming in from the west, looks like, so we’re heading into worse. Want me to take the wheel for a spell?”
“Not yet.”
He made it another twenty miles before he had to stop for a three-car pileup.
“Well.” Eddie scratched his beard. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do. Lana, you mind taking Joe to do some business while me and Max see about pushing this mess out of the way?”
A warning look from Max told her he wasn’t ready to share what they could do with their new companion.
She took the dog, trudged through the snow to a stand of trees.
Max and Eddie walked toward the wrecked cars.
Behind the wheel of the hatchback, the body of a man slumped.
“That’s a bullet hole in the windshield there, and in him, too, I guess.” Though he’d gone a little pale, Eddie moved closer. “I don’t know much, but I know this dude hasn’t been dead long. I mean not like a couple of days.”
“Somebody put some bullet holes in this Subaru, too. And there’s some blood on the seat.”
Pulling lightly at his scraggle of a beard, Eddie let out a sigh. “Gun rack in the truck there—and no guns in it. I ain’t no CSI type, but I watched it some on TV. Looks to me like the truck dude shot at these two, killed the one here, wounded the other. Wrecked the shit out of the truck, so he couldn’t drive it.”
“I’d say you’re right.”
“So, you know…” Eddie looked around, searching for tracks, afraid he’d find them. “Maybe we should clear this mess out of the way, quick as we can, and get the hell out of here. In case.”
The hatchback rolled easily once in neutral with Eddie guiding the wheel and Max pushing from the rear.
Lana walked back as they worked on the Subaru.
“Tire’s flat. Looks like the wheel’s bent, too.” Eddie rolled his shoulders. “Gonna take more muscle.”
“I’ll help.”
“Don’t you strain nothing,” Eddie warned. This time, he cut the wheel, left the door open, and put his back into it from the front.
It only took Lana one shove to know muscle alone wouldn’t be enough. She added a different kind of push, and though she tried to keep it light, the car jerked forward.
“We got her!” Eddie called out. “Just a little more.”
Max, his hair covered with snow, laughed under his breath. “Ease back, Amazon Queen.”
They pushed again, had the car bumping over the shoulder, and stopping crookedly in the shallow ravine beside it.
Eddie shot Lana a grin. “Stronger than you look.”
She only smiled, flexed.
“We can get around the truck,” Max said.
“Yeah, room enough to squeak by. Give me a minute first.”
Eddie slid down to the ravine, pulled the keys out of the Subaru, stomped through snow to the back to open it. “Could be some useful things got left behind. Should check the other car, too.”
“I’ll do that.” Max thought of the body. Lana didn’t need to see it. “You help Eddie.”
She slithered down, opened the suitcase in the back while Eddie poked through a big cardboard box.
“Got food,” he said. “Looks like somebody grabbed stuff out of the pantry.”
“Just take the box. There are clothes in here—men’s clothes. And…” She took out a framed photo of a man in his thirties, a woman of about the same age. He wore a tux with a white rose boutonniere, and she a billowy white dress.
“Their wedding photo,” she murmured. “But only men’s clothes. He must have lost her to the virus.”
“We oughta take the suitcase, too.”
“Yes.” She put the photo back inside. She wouldn’t leave it to fade in the back of a car.
Between them, they managed to haul the box of provisions to the road while shoving and pulling the suitcase. Max joined them with a duffel bag and a rifle.
“In the trunk. The gun and there’s ammo in the duffel, some warm weather clothes, a roll of cash stuffed in a boot. For all the good that does anyone now.”
“Gonna check the truck.”
Eddie jogged to it while Lana and Max started to pack the new finds in the car. Eddie came back with a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s and three cans of Bud.
“I suspect somebody was driving under the influence, and maybe that caused the wreck.” He wedged them into the car, turned in a circle.
“Pretty country. Damn pretty country. Find a stream, build yourself a cabin. Life wouldn’t be half bad.” He grinned over at the dog, who leaped through the snow, rolled in it. “He sure likes it.”
Max opened the driver’s door, leaned in to start the car while Eddie called the dog. “You drive,” he told Eddie. “I’ll navigate.”
“Sure thing. You oughta take yourself a nap, Lana. You look tired out.”
The glamour is wearing off, she thought. And the truth was, she felt tired out. The new provisions took up some of the backseat, but she managed to curl up, and tuned out almost immediately.
As he drove—competently, to Max’s relief—Eddie struck up conversation.
“You guys been together awhile?”
“We met about a year ago, moved in together a couple months later.”
“When it’s right, it’s right. Haven’t found the right yet. Not really looking, but I appreciate female company, if you know what I mean. Is she out?”
Max looked back. “Yeah. You’re right, she’s tired. We’ve pushed it pretty hard.”
“Likely have to keep pushing. What we saw back there? That’s how it is now for some. Kill you soon as look at you. I don’t get why when what makes sense is we need each other, but that’s how it is. You had to see plenty of that back in the city.”
“Too much of it. People are scared and pissed off, desperate.”
“And some are just no damn good,” Eddie added.
“And some are just no damn good.”
They passed through a little township, its main street deserted but for parked cars. Its shops shut down or gaping open.
“You let me know when you want to find a pump, top off the tank.”
“We’ve got enough for now. We’re going to get off this when it dips south, head north toward Route Six. If it’s clear, we can take that west. If not, there are back roads.”
Eddie flicked Max an impressed look. “Got it mapped out in your head?”
“I do. And it’s written down if anything happens to me. And if anything does, I have to trust you with her. I have to trust you to look out for her.”
Under the bruise and the beard, Eddie’s jaw tightened. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re looki
ng out for each other now. But you can trust me to take care of her if she needs it. I got no family left, dude. You could’ve left me back there. I guess you could say you’re my people now.”
“Take Fifteen north when you get to it. Let’s try to get at least another fifty or sixty miles before we stop, find a pump. We’re going to want one of the small towns, nothing too big.”
“I got that.”
Max kicked back, shut his eyes. As he drifted off, he heard Eddie singing some country song. Bluegrass? He wasn’t familiar enough to know. But the clear, easy voice sang about angels, and soothed Max to sleep.
He woke with a start, felt their speed drop. Shoving up, he expected to see another wreck blocking the road. Instead he saw a snow-covered road, some houses, and a mini-mart with gas pumps.
“Six was a no go,” Eddie said. “Had to double back, take the back roads. We’re down to a quarter tank, so we better gas it up.”
He pulled into the lot.
All three got out. “It looks like it’s slowed down, the snow. I’ll see what I can put together so we can eat something,” Lana said.
“I sure could use that.” Eddie glanced around as Max walked to a pump. “Quiet around here. Maybe everybody lit out.”
“Maybe. Pumps are still on.” Max put the nozzle in the tank.
“I’m going inside first, use an actual bathroom.”
“Probably locked up,” Eddie told Lana.
“We’ll see.” Because that she could deal with.
“Joe and I are fine with the great outdoors.”
“Be quick,” Max ordered. “And careful.”
He studied the street—theirs weren’t the only tracks in the snow—the near buildings. Nothing stirred but a trio of deer nibbling at seeds spilled from a wrecked bird feeder across the road.
He considered trolling for another SUV. The snowfall had slowed, but a four-wheel drive would serve better, especially where they were headed.
Maybe after he gassed up, they’d hunt one down, reload. At least they’d leave a full tank for another traveler. He relaxed a little when Lana came out again, carrying a bag.
“I still feel wrong about just taking things, but I did it anyway. Not much left in there, but I found some potato rolls stuffed into the freezer section. When they thaw out, I can make some sandwiches.”
“That’ll give us time to get somewhere more secluded.” Max replaced the hose, closed the tank. “Too open here.”
“It feels wrong, doesn’t it? More like a photograph than life.”
She bent down, scrubbed at the pup’s head when he raced back. “In you go, Joe.”
He leaped in the back as Eddie walked back. He glanced behind him.
“I thought I heard a—”
The shot that rang out shattered the stillness, a hammer against glass.
She saw Eddie jerk, saw his face go white, and the blood bloom on his flapping army green coat. Before she could rush forward, Max shoved her into the passenger seat.
“Get in, get in!”
He grabbed Eddie as Eddie stumbled forward, all but throwing him in the back.
The next shot shattered the right taillight.
“Get down. Lana, get the hell down.” Max ducked around the front of the car.
Two men ran into the lot from the back, still firing.
Enraged, Lana threw out power, heaving it at them even as Max pulled the gun from his hip and fired back. Both men flew backward, guns firing in the air.
Max yanked the driver’s-side door open, hit the starter and the gas even before he slammed the door shut. He spun, fishtailed, feared for a moment he’d flip the damn car, but the chains bit in.
In the rearview, he saw the men struggle to their feet, take aim, but their bullets thudded into the snow behind them.
Others came out of some of the houses, armed, watching with cold eyes as he drove away.
“Are you hurt? Lana?”
“No, no, are you?”
“No. Eddie, how bad?”
“I’m shot!” He pressed a hand between his collarbone and right shoulder. “I’m fucking shot. And Jesus, Jesus Christ, it fucking hurts.”
“Lana, strap in, goddamn it,” Max snapped as she started to crawl between the seats.
“I have to see how bad it is. If I can help.”
“I can’t stop yet. I can’t stop until we’re sure they’re not coming after us.”
She wedged into the back, hauled up the dog currently whining and licking Eddie’s face. She plopped Joe on the front seat. When he immediately tried to wiggle back, Max snapped again.
“Sit!”
Joe didn’t sit so much as curl up and cry.
“I need to see, need to see.” Lana unbuttoned the jacket.
“You’re going to see I’m shot! What the hell, man? We weren’t hurting anybody.”
“Quiet now, just quiet.” With hands that surprised her by staying steady, she ripped open his shirt, then yanked off her scarf, used it to put pressure on the wound. “I’m going to stop the bleeding, that’s the first thing. You’re going to be all right. As soon as we’re far enough away, Max’s going to find a place we can stop, and we’ll get you inside, take care of this. I think I can help.”
“Like you helped back there, knocking those assholes on their asses like with your mind or something? You’re one of those, those others? Both of you?”
Lana looked at him, into his shocked eyes. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Hell, you just saved my life. Unless I’m dying anyway.”
“You’re not dying. I … Max, I feel like I can help.”
Eddie moaned, gritted his teeth. “If you’d get that bottle of Jack—I mean the whiskey—that’d be a start.”
“Good idea. You need to press down on this while I do. Even though it hurts.” She put his hand on the bloody scarf, pressed. “Like that.”
She turned, unwedged the bottle from the floor, unzipped the duffel, dug through until she found a T-shirt. Lifting herself up a little, she pulled out the multi-tool Max had given her, cut through the shirt until she could rip it and make a couple of thick pads.
She opened the Jack Daniel’s bottle, nudged Eddie’s hand and the scarf away.
“Brace yourself.” And she poured the whiskey on the ugly little wound.
He let out a sound that tore at her, but she doused it, then pressed a fresh pad against the wound while Eddie, eyes glassy, fought for breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I was looking to drink it.”
She put the bottle in his trembling hand so he could.
“I screamed like a girl.”
“You screamed like a man having whiskey poured on a bullet wound.” She got a hand under him, felt the hole in the coat, the wet. “Press that pad, keep the pressure on.” She pressed the second one to his back. “It went through. The bullet went through. I think that’s good.”
“It ain’t so good when you’re the one it went through. Coming out makes a bigger hole. Pretty sure.”
“We’ll take care of it. Max.”
“I’m looking. They’re not following, so I’m looking.”
She took a breath, looked into Eddie’s eyes again. “I think I can help, help slow the bleeding. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Me, either.” He gripped her hand. “Probably going to hurt.”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.” He closed his eyes.
She didn’t know what stirred in her, but it reached up and out, it quivered to help. She kept one hand gripping his, the other pressed on the exit wound. Let it flow out.
It hurt. She heard the pain, felt it, saw it black and pulsing. She opened herself to whatever rose and stirred and flowed—white and cool against the black and hot.
“Stop.” Eddie gripped her arm now, squeezed, shook. “Stop!”
She shivered back. Whatever flowed and stirred in her stilled.
“Stop,” he
said again. “You look as bad as I feel. It’s better. Whatever you did there, it’s better. I don’t feel so shaky, and it hurts—Christ knows—but it’s not as bad.”
“Let me try to—”
“Lana.” Max spoke quietly, but firmly. “You can’t push too hard, too fast. You need to re-gather.” He slowed the car. “There’s a house—not much of one. It looks deserted. We’ll try it.”
He turned in slowly, sat, waited.
“I’m going to go check it out. Lana, you come and get behind the wheel. If there’s trouble, you go. I’ll find you.” He turned to look at her. “I’ll find you.”
She nodded, but when he got out, walked down to the house, she stayed where she was.
“No way we’re leaving him,” Eddie said.
“No, we’re not leaving him.”
“So, ah, hey. You guys like gods or something?”
“No.” Gently, she brushed his hair back from his face. “Witches.”
“Witches? Huh.”
Max jogged back. “Nobody here. Doesn’t look like anybody’s been here for a couple of weeks. It’s a dump, but it’ll do.”
He drove around the back, through the snow until he felt certain the car wouldn’t be seen from the road.
He helped Eddie out and, when his legs buckled, picked him up and carried him inside. Lana’s first thought was the kitchen was a small nightmare of filth, garbage, bugs, and mouse droppings.
They’d deal with it.
The living room wasn’t any better, nor was the bedroom Max turned into.
“Wait, don’t lay him down on that. We have to keep the wound clean.” She stripped off the ratty blanket, the stained sheets. “Just wait.”
She dashed back out, dug out the sheets she’d packed, the towels. Inside, she yanked the sheets over the mattress, spread one of the towels over the bottom sheet.
“We have to get his coat and his shirt off.”
“Help him stand,” Max told her.
Between the three of them, they got him stripped down.