to Green Bay with Grace and Annie."
Gino's brows lifted. "I thought those two were a hot item."
"It's hard to date when you live two hundred miles apart."
"What's wrong with phone sex?"
"I didn't ask."
"Christ, I hope she didn't dump him for a suit."
"We didn't get into particulars."
"Did you call Grace?"
"No answer on her cell. I left a message." Magozzi eyed Gino's deep-fried-thing-on-a-stick. "What the hell is that?"
"Dill pickle."
"That's disgusting."
"Like you would know."
WHEN GRACE FINISHED checking all the phone lines, she walked back to the street in front of the cafe and stood there for a moment, listening. The only sounds she heard were Annie's and Sharon's muffled voices coming from inside, but when she turned to look, the glare of the sun bouncing off the big plate-glass windows nearly blinded her.
They looked up when Grace pushed open the screen door. Annie and Sharon were sitting at the counter, sipping from soda cans taken from the glass-fronted cooler, Annie waving her cell phone, trying to find a signal. "This piece of crap is hopeless. Doesn't work outside, doesn't work inside. . . . You find anybody, darlin'?" She handed Grace a bottled water and tucked the useless phone back in her purse.
Grace shook her head, opened the bottle, and took a quick drink before she spoke. "Someone cut all the phone lines."
"What?"
"Right below the feeder boxes. On the cafe, the gas station, and the house."
All three were silent for a moment.
Sharon finally said, "Kids, maybe."
"Maybe."
Annie was watching Grace's face. "What are you thinking, Grace?"
"That we should get out of here."
Annie sighed, took a last drink from her soda can, and pushed herself up off the stool. She went over to the cooler, grabbed three bottles of water, and set one on the counter in front of Sharon.
"What's this for?"
"Tuck it in your bag, darlin'. It's mighty hot out there, and it appears we're going to be doing a little more walking."
"You're kidding, right? According to the map in the gas station, it's at least another ten miles to the next town, and that's after we hoof it all the way back to the truck. Can't a couple of techno-whizzes like you fix the phone lines?"
"It's a twenty-five-pair cable," Grace replied. "That's a lot of splicing. It might take a couple hours."
"By which time the people who live here will probably be back from wherever they went and will be happy to give us a ride. In the meantime, we've got food and drink and a place to get out of the sun. . . ."
Annie looked at Sharon as if she'd lost her mind, forgetting for a moment that not everyone in the free world knew that when Grace said "we should get out of here," it was like a Seeing Eye dog jerking a blind person out of the way of a runaway bus. "We should leave now."
"Okay," Sharon continued, trying to be reasonable. "How about this. You and Grace stay here, start working on the phones, and in the meantime, just to cover all our bets, I'll start walking, maybe get lucky and catch a ride. No offense, Annie, but it's over ninety out there, and I'm guessing aerobics isn't your . . ."
"Quiet." Grace had moved quickly, almost soundlessly, over to the screen door, where she stood with her eyes closed and her concentration focused in a cone of awareness that headed left past the gas station, around the curve that disappeared into the woods. What she'd heard had been nothing specific, nothing immediately identifiable- just a faint, muted roaring sound that didn't belong.
"Something's coming" was all she had time to say.
HAROLD WITTIG slammed the gearshift into park and draped his wrists over the pickup's steering wheel, his lips tightened in annoyance. He lifted one arm and wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve, promising himself for the hundredth time that he was going to junk this damn truck and get one of the big new Fords with an air conditioner that would turn a two-dollar whore frigid. Damn, it was hot, and the day
Gino's brows lifted. "I thought those two were a hot item."
"It's hard to date when you live two hundred miles apart."
"What's wrong with phone sex?"
"I didn't ask."
"Christ, I hope she didn't dump him for a suit."
"We didn't get into particulars."
"Did you call Grace?"
"No answer on her cell. I left a message." Magozzi eyed Gino's deep-fried-thing-on-a-stick. "What the hell is that?"
"Dill pickle."
"That's disgusting."
"Like you would know."
WHEN GRACE FINISHED checking all the phone lines, she walked back to the street in front of the cafe and stood there for a moment, listening. The only sounds she heard were Annie's and Sharon's muffled voices coming from inside, but when she turned to look, the glare of the sun bouncing off the big plate-glass windows nearly blinded her.
They looked up when Grace pushed open the screen door. Annie and Sharon were sitting at the counter, sipping from soda cans taken from the glass-fronted cooler, Annie waving her cell phone, trying to find a signal. "This piece of crap is hopeless. Doesn't work outside, doesn't work inside. . . . You find anybody, darlin'?" She handed Grace a bottled water and tucked the useless phone back in her purse.
Grace shook her head, opened the bottle, and took a quick drink before she spoke. "Someone cut all the phone lines."
"What?"
"Right below the feeder boxes. On the cafe, the gas station, and the house."
All three were silent for a moment.
Sharon finally said, "Kids, maybe."
"Maybe."
Annie was watching Grace's face. "What are you thinking, Grace?"
"That we should get out of here."
Annie sighed, took a last drink from her soda can, and pushed herself up off the stool. She went over to the cooler, grabbed three bottles of water, and set one on the counter in front of Sharon.
"What's this for?"
"Tuck it in your bag, darlin'. It's mighty hot out there, and it appears we're going to be doing a little more walking."
"You're kidding, right? According to the map in the gas station, it's at least another ten miles to the next town, and that's after we hoof it all the way back to the truck. Can't a couple of techno-whizzes like you fix the phone lines?"
"It's a twenty-five-pair cable," Grace replied. "That's a lot of splicing. It might take a couple hours."
"By which time the people who live here will probably be back from wherever they went and will be happy to give us a ride. In the meantime, we've got food and drink and a place to get out of the sun. . . ."
Annie looked at Sharon as if she'd lost her mind, forgetting for a moment that not everyone in the free world knew that when Grace said "we should get out of here," it was like a Seeing Eye dog jerking a blind person out of the way of a runaway bus. "We should leave now."
"Okay," Sharon continued, trying to be reasonable. "How about this. You and Grace stay here, start working on the phones, and in the meantime, just to cover all our bets, I'll start walking, maybe get lucky and catch a ride. No offense, Annie, but it's over ninety out there, and I'm guessing aerobics isn't your . . ."
"Quiet." Grace had moved quickly, almost soundlessly, over to the screen door, where she stood with her eyes closed and her concentration focused in a cone of awareness that headed left past the gas station, around the curve that disappeared into the woods. What she'd heard had been nothing specific, nothing immediately identifiable- just a faint, muted roaring sound that didn't belong.
"Something's coming" was all she had time to say.
HAROLD WITTIG slammed the gearshift into park and draped his wrists over the pickup's steering wheel, his lips tightened in annoyance. He lifted one arm and wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve, promising himself for the hundredth time that he was going to junk this damn truck and get one of the big new Fords with an air conditioner that would turn a two-dollar whore frigid. Damn, it was hot, and the day
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