“Someone must have left the oven on,” Danny said.
“I see a road,” Will said, pointing.
Danny pulled the truck off the highway and onto a manmade dirt road, past an open gate, and drove them toward a farm. The remnants of the house were flanked by a red barn to one side and what looked like an unattached garage or possibly a supply shack on the other. There were a couple of vehicles parked in the wide, expansive yard.
Will picked up his M4A1 from the floor and scanned the property. Like most of the land they had passed since leaving Dunbar behind, the ground was flat and baked brown. There were no animals grazing, no signs of horses or cows, or whatever it was the owners had been raising before The Purge. Then again, he hadn’t seen a large land animal running free for almost a year now, so the complete lack of livestock didn’t add to the potential (if any) threat around the area.
The road was rough, but the Bronco’s tires traversed it without trouble. They reached a front yard covered in dead grass, and Danny parked behind a white pickup that was so old Will couldn’t place its make or model. A black minivan that looked out of place sat on the other side of the property. It had Mississippi license plates.
“Someone’s far from home,” Danny said. “Hell of a time to take a vacation.”
“It might be worse where they’re from.”
“I somehow doubt that, Kemosabe.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
They climbed out of the Bronco, weapons at the ready, and spent another few minutes giving the property a cautious look-over. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to chase away the sweltering heat or keep the ruins of the house from smoldering in the aftermath of what looked like a ravaging fire. There were no bodies that he could see or signs of a battle.
So what started the fire?
“No Silverado,” Will said.
Darren, the twenty-something soldier who Gaby had shot in the ankle earlier in the day, told them Gaby had continued up Route 13 in his and his dead partner’s Chevy Silverado truck. They were hoping to run across it sooner or later.
“Fire must have been raging something purty when she came through here earlier,” Danny said. “You think she kept going?”
Will thought about it. “She’s a smart girl. And taking into account she’s dragging along three people…” He nodded certainly. “I don’t think she’d stop. We taught her better than that.”
“We would totally rock as parents. Separately, I mean. With, you know, girls. Not that there’s anything wrong with the other thing.”
“How about we make sure no one’s in the minivan first before we start making marital plans, Mrs. Doubtfire.”
“Certainly,” Danny said, mimicking a high-pitched female voice
They approached the van from separate angles. Will peered into the open front passenger window while Danny did the same on the driver’s side. A pink watermelon-flavored Little Tree Air Freshener, long past its smell-by date, hung from the rearview mirror. Will used that same mirror to look into the back of the van before opening the side hatch to make sure it was really empty.
Old soda cans and water bottles littered the floor. A pair of men’s shirts, shorts, and sandals. He picked up old footsteps in the ground from the side hatch outward, but they were barely noticeable.
“It’s been a while since they used the van,” Will said. “It would make sense if they came all the way from Mississippi. Maybe they exited the interstate to see what was out here, found the house, and decided it was as good a place as any to settle down.”
“Here?” Danny said. “There’s nothing here, buddy.”
“Maybe that’s the point. This far from civilization, if they hunkered down, they could go unnoticed for a while.”
Danny circled the van. “Dunbar’s nearby.”
“They might not know that.”
“So where are they now?”
Will looked back at what was left of the house. The charred frames that were still standing told him it used to be a two-story building. They moved toward it, trying to glimpse anything that might give an impression of who had been in there or what had caused the fire. The flames had mostly burned themselves out, leaving behind embers to give off more than enough heat to make getting too close uncomfortable. They stopped about ten meters away from what used to be a front wooden deck. There wasn’t much left except for the concrete steps that led up to the front door.
“Guess no one’s home,” Danny said.
“But something — or someone — had to have started the fire.”
“Spontaneous combustion?”
“That’s one theory.”
“What’s another one?”
“No idea.”
“Hunh. So what now?”
Will glanced back toward the road. “Come on, we’re burning daylight. Gaby was smart not to stop, and we should have done the same thing.”
“Too late for that.”
“Just don’t tell her when we finally catch up.”
“Mum’s the word.”
They started walking back to the Bronco when a flicker of movement—from the barn—caught the corner of Will’s eye and he stopped on a dime and spun. Danny did the same, and they stared across forty meters at the large twin doors that had swung open.
“I guess someone’s home after all,” Will said.
“Awesome,” Danny said. “Let’s go see if we can borrow some milk and sugar.”
They changed direction and moved toward the barn, approaching it from two different angles the way they had the minivan earlier. Will kept his eyes on the open alley doors in front and the closed loft door directly above those. If there was a sniper inside, he would use the higher perch to shoot from, but Will couldn’t make out any holes or makeshift gun ports.
The barn doors remained open, but no one had shown themselves yet.
They took the first twenty meters without fanfare, taking their time but moving steadily forward. Will scooted slightly right to eyeball the bottom of and along the slanted roof. Danny did the same on his side.
“Anything?” Will asked.
“Squadoosh,” Danny said. “Unless they have an invisible sniper. If they do, that would really suck.”
Finally, one of the barn doors opened even wider and a pair of tanned arms appeared in the sunlight. “Don’t shoot!” someone shouted. Young and male. “We’re not armed!”
“Step outside!” Will shouted back.
The owner of the outstretched hands stepped out of the barn. Tall, jeans and a white T-shirt stained with something red. Blood. The man squinted in the sunlight and his hair was a mess. Will couldn’t see a gun belt or a weapon, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something behind his waist.
The man had moved a foot outside the building when Will said, “Stop.”
He did.
“Turn around,” Will said.
The guy gave him a confused look.
“Like Cinderella,” Danny said.
Another confused look.
“Just to make sure you’re not armed,” Will said.
He understood that and turned around a full 360 before facing Will again. He had wisely not lowered his arms the entire time.
“You said ‘we,’” Will said. “Who else is inside?”
“My girlfriend,” the man said.
“Her name wouldn’t happen to be Gaby, would it?” Danny asked.
The guy shook his head. “Um, no. It’s Annie.”
“Oh well, worth a shot,” Danny said.
Lance and Annie hadn’t arrived from Mississippi by themselves. There had been six of them four months ago. That number was trimmed to two after last night.