“Where’d your boyfriend run off to?” Danny asked.
“Looking for our ride.”
“Still?”
“It’s only been thirty minutes, Danny.”
“Feels like thirty-one.”
“What about these vehicles?”
Danny shook his head, then pointed. “That one’s too small, that one’s too big, and that one’s way too pink. Why would you paint your car pink in Hickstown, USA?”
“To be daring?”
“Stupid is more like it.”
She sighed. “We should have stayed clear of Hellion, Danny. Then the truck would still be in one piece and we wouldn’t need to look for a replacement.”
“We should have done a lot of things. For instance, dating a guy without a Mohawk. Personally, that would have been at the top of my list.”
“Nate has his moments.”
“Is one of them the Mohawk?”
“One of many,” she smiled.
Her (and Danny’s) right ear clicked, and they heard Nate’s voice. “Found one.”
“Speak of the devil, and he shall radio in,” Danny said.
Gaby ignored him and pressed her Push-to-Talk switch, said into her throat mic, “Where are you?”
“About a mile from your spot,” Nate said. “Past the VFW building. Got a couple of hogs here, too, in case you’re interested.”
“Yum,” Danny said.
“Not those kinds of hogs. Motorcycles.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
“What’s the replacement truck look like?” Gaby asked.
“Burnt orange, large tires, and a gun rack in the back,” Nate said.
“I think I’m in love,” Danny said. “Stay there; we’ll come to you.”
“Roger that.”
Danny grinned wryly at her. “I guess he’s not useless, after all.”
“Told you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She circled around the truck, passing a pair of bullet holes in the side, a broken taillight, and craters in the tailgate that hadn’t been there when they had found the Dodge back at Port Arthur. All of the damage had occurred as they passed a town called Hellion about thirty miles down the state highway.
Definitely should have steered clear of the place. Even the name sounds like trouble.
She tried to think of the bright side — they had made it out of there alive, for one — as she climbed into the driver seat, the door creaking badly as she pulled it closed. Danny slid in next to her, his boots crunching broken glass on the floor. Most of those shards came from his shattered door window, though plenty had fallen loose from the spiderwebbed front windshield.
Gaby turned the key and the ten-year-old Dodge struggled to turn over, and for a brief moment she envisioned the two of them carrying the six remaining five-gallon cans over to Nate’s position. And of course they’d have to take the car battery with them. All of that, while walking under the morning sun—
Vroom! as the car finally turned over.
“We’re on our way now,” Danny said, his voice echoing inside her ear and inside the cab. “You said burnt orange?”
“Yup,” Nate answered. “My dad had something like it back in Louisiana. Except his was white.”
“That’s all very fascinating, Natepoleon, but I didn’t ask for your life story,” Danny said.
“Cut him a break, Danny,” Gaby said.
“Oh, relax. I’m just busting his balls so you can ride in and massage them for him.”
“Ugh,” she said.
“Yeah, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth, too,” Danny sighed.
Nate had found a Ford F-150 truck in the parking lot of a feed store further up FM 163. The morning was crisp and cool enough that Gaby was glad she couldn’t smell whatever was being stored in a pair of red barns behind the main building. If there was anything in there besides ghouls, anyway.
The truck still looked relatively new and Nate was sitting on the hood, shotgun slung over his back and M4 in his lap, waiting for them. He was beaming as she pulled off the road, turned around, and then backed up until she was parked parallel to the Ford.
“What do you think?” Nate asked, hopping down.
“Not bad, for an idiot with a Mohawk,” Danny said.
“Lay off the hair. Chicks dig it.” He smiled at her. “Right?”
“Eh,” Gaby said, climbing into the back of their truck.
Danny began transporting their equipment from the Dodge over to the Ford, including switching the battery over, while she lowered one of the gas cans down to Nate, who poured it into the F-150’s gas tank. It took thirty minutes before they could pile into the new truck, ready to leave Wilden behind.
Gaby settled in behind the wheel and adjusted her driver-side mirror, then rolled down the window. She put the car in gear and maneuvered out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading west. Danny occupied the front passenger seat, while Nate sat in the back with their supplies. They had brought enough to get to Starch and back, and a little bit more just in case they ran into trouble.
Another one of your lessons, Will. ‘Just in case.’
“Starch?” she asked.
“Starch,” Danny nodded.
He unfolded a map in his lap, though she didn’t know why. From here, it was as simple as locating the state highway and driving until they ran into US 59, after which it was a straight shot up to Starch. She had eyeballed her own map so many times she was sure she could reach their destination by memory.
“Are we still sure it’s going to be there when we show up?” Nate asked from the backseat.
“It’s an underground bunker,” Danny said. “It’s not going to dig itself up and fly off.”
“I’m more concerned about what’s inside it. Who’s to say someone else didn’t stumble across it after you left? It’s been, what, a year since you guys abandoned it?”
“Give or take.”
“Yeah, so, what if all of this is for nothing?”
Danny folded the map back up and put it away. “Then you’ve just been on the best field trip of your life. You’re welcome.”
Nate grunted, and Gaby smiled.
“Should have brought marshmallows,” Nate said.
“That’s the spirit,” Danny said. He leaned around in his seat and smiled back at Nate. “Wanna hear a joke?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Old man is sitting in the park one day,” Danny said, as if Nate hadn’t said anything, “waiting for someone to play chess with him. This super hot woman in a red dress walks by and the old coot shouts at her, ‘Hey, hot thing, you wanna play chess?’ The woman stops and looks at him, puts her hands on her hips, and says—”
Danny stopped in mid-sentence.
“What?” Nate said. “What did the woman say?”
“Shhh,” Danny said, holding up his hand.
Nate went quiet.
“Stop the car,” Danny snapped.
Gaby stepped on the brake, but Danny had already unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the F-150 before she had come to a complete stop. She glanced back at Nate and saw him looking after Danny’s figure as he raced from the front to the back.
Nate turned back to her. “What the hell?”
She shook her head and threw open her car door, Nate doing the same behind her. She hadn’t taken a complete step out of the truck when she heard it. Or maybe she felt it first. It could have very well been both simultaneously.