beaming at him over the shiny bottle mouth.
“Sorry for all the stops and the camping,” Abby said. “You’re saints for putting up with it. I think things will geta bit more exciting in N’Awlins . Or, well, hopefully the good kind of exciting.”
“ If we make it there,” Dan couldn’t help saying. He turned to Jordan. “Are you going to finish that before you pass out?”
Jordan hugged the bottle tightly to his chest. “Of course,” he slurred. “I paid thirty American dollars for this crappy wine. I’m getting my money’s worth!”
Thirty dollars, yes, although half of that had been the bribe that convinced the trucker to buy it for them in the first place.
“Just take it easy. You’re up first driving tomorrow.”
Groaning, Jordan recorked the bottle and stored it near their small cooler in the corner. “Damn you and your logic.”
“Good night, Jordan.” Dan rolled onto his side and then halfway down into his sleeping bag. Crickets and frogs chorused, a constant underlying chirp that sounded disconcertingly close. Dan was accustomed to hearing the same night music back home in Pittsburgh, but usually he had the benefit of a window and walls between him and the creepy crawlies.
He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he woke up again, startled out of a light doze by the buzzing of his phone. Dan groped for his phone in the darkness, though it was hard to hear over Jordan’s snores and the sound of singing crickets.
When he found it, Dan rubbed his eyes, jolted to greater alertness by the light of the screen. His skin felt drawn and itchy, tightness around his eyes signaling that he needed at least a few more hours to feel truly rested. But he was awake now, and he flicked the lock open on his screen. He stared down at the notification. Facebook. His gut clenched. Two in the morning. Nobody would be messaging him now, he knewthat, and he knew what he would see when he opened the app. But he did it anyway.
Micah had written again, this message more direct than the last:
g et u p th
e watch e rs wi ll find
u
The watchers?
There was no time to reflect. Sudden pinpoints of light bounced along the taut wall of the tent. He shut off his phone, afraid to give off even the slightest glow. Somebody was coming. He recognized the up-and-down bounce of the flashlights moving in time with footsteps.
He clapped a hand over Jordan’s snoring mouth, listening to the grass swish under two pairs of shoes. The yellow circles of light on the tent wall grew as the people got closer. Dan strained to hear their voices, his heart hammering up into his throat.
Get up. The watchers will find you.
How could the Micah impersonator know?
“We shouldn’t be here,” one voice was saying, a soft voice, almost sweet, maybe belonging to a young woman.
“I have to see,” another voice responded. This one was low and decidedly masculine. “He might be my only shot.”
Could they mean Dan? Or maybe Jordan? Dan felt his friend try to twist out of his grasp, but Dan couldn’t let the snoring sabotage his eavesdropping.
“You can’t sneak up on folk like this. It ain’t right.”
The masculine voice let out a sigh, and Dan watched the flashlight beams halt and then finally retreat. The voices grew softer, too, muddling with the hush of the grass as the strangers turned and left. “You’re right. There’s a better way.”
So they weren’t going to be ambushed and killed in the night—that was a plus. But Dan wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know who was following them. He carefully eased out of his sleeping bag and the tent, pocketing his phone to use as a light. He had to be quick, but also quiet. The last thing he wanted was to alert them to his presence.
What if they were armed? What if they abducted him? Jordan and Abby would wake up and think he had abandoned them in the night.
My parents were brave. I can be brave, too.
He followed the flashlight beams as they bounced along the ground.
“Sorry for all the stops and the camping,” Abby said. “You’re saints for putting up with it. I think things will geta bit more exciting in N’Awlins . Or, well, hopefully the good kind of exciting.”
“ If we make it there,” Dan couldn’t help saying. He turned to Jordan. “Are you going to finish that before you pass out?”
Jordan hugged the bottle tightly to his chest. “Of course,” he slurred. “I paid thirty American dollars for this crappy wine. I’m getting my money’s worth!”
Thirty dollars, yes, although half of that had been the bribe that convinced the trucker to buy it for them in the first place.
“Just take it easy. You’re up first driving tomorrow.”
Groaning, Jordan recorked the bottle and stored it near their small cooler in the corner. “Damn you and your logic.”
“Good night, Jordan.” Dan rolled onto his side and then halfway down into his sleeping bag. Crickets and frogs chorused, a constant underlying chirp that sounded disconcertingly close. Dan was accustomed to hearing the same night music back home in Pittsburgh, but usually he had the benefit of a window and walls between him and the creepy crawlies.
He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he woke up again, startled out of a light doze by the buzzing of his phone. Dan groped for his phone in the darkness, though it was hard to hear over Jordan’s snores and the sound of singing crickets.
When he found it, Dan rubbed his eyes, jolted to greater alertness by the light of the screen. His skin felt drawn and itchy, tightness around his eyes signaling that he needed at least a few more hours to feel truly rested. But he was awake now, and he flicked the lock open on his screen. He stared down at the notification. Facebook. His gut clenched. Two in the morning. Nobody would be messaging him now, he knewthat, and he knew what he would see when he opened the app. But he did it anyway.
Micah had written again, this message more direct than the last:
g et u p th
e watch e rs wi ll find
u
The watchers?
There was no time to reflect. Sudden pinpoints of light bounced along the taut wall of the tent. He shut off his phone, afraid to give off even the slightest glow. Somebody was coming. He recognized the up-and-down bounce of the flashlights moving in time with footsteps.
He clapped a hand over Jordan’s snoring mouth, listening to the grass swish under two pairs of shoes. The yellow circles of light on the tent wall grew as the people got closer. Dan strained to hear their voices, his heart hammering up into his throat.
Get up. The watchers will find you.
How could the Micah impersonator know?
“We shouldn’t be here,” one voice was saying, a soft voice, almost sweet, maybe belonging to a young woman.
“I have to see,” another voice responded. This one was low and decidedly masculine. “He might be my only shot.”
Could they mean Dan? Or maybe Jordan? Dan felt his friend try to twist out of his grasp, but Dan couldn’t let the snoring sabotage his eavesdropping.
“You can’t sneak up on folk like this. It ain’t right.”
The masculine voice let out a sigh, and Dan watched the flashlight beams halt and then finally retreat. The voices grew softer, too, muddling with the hush of the grass as the strangers turned and left. “You’re right. There’s a better way.”
So they weren’t going to be ambushed and killed in the night—that was a plus. But Dan wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know who was following them. He carefully eased out of his sleeping bag and the tent, pocketing his phone to use as a light. He had to be quick, but also quiet. The last thing he wanted was to alert them to his presence.
What if they were armed? What if they abducted him? Jordan and Abby would wake up and think he had abandoned them in the night.
My parents were brave. I can be brave, too.
He followed the flashlight beams as they bounced along the ground.
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