Jessie Lee looked toward the entrance and saw Erwin—big, strong, wonderful Erwin—stride around the corner, his hands clenched into fists. He focused on the stack of bodies in the shower room and his mouth hung open.
And Erwin’s eyes met hers and pierced her with hope, and then he was rushing at Taylor, bellowing in rage, arms open to grab him.
The knife appeared in Taylor’s hand so fast it was almost magic, and he leapt up and smoothly punched the blade into Erwin’s chest.
Erwin gasped. He fell to his knees, looked longingly at Jessie Lee, and then pitched forward onto his face.
Jessie Lee ran to the man she loved, burying her face into his back, trying to get her hands under him to put pressure on the wound even though his heart had already stopped beating.
She was so preoccupied with her efforts that Jessie Lee didn’t even feel it when Taylor came up behind her and slit her throat.
Fran hugged Duncan to her and stared at the man they’d almost run over. He stood in the middle of the road, only a few feet in front of their car. Tall, in camouflage military fatigues and a matching helmet, some sort of weapon strapped to his shoulder. He had his hands over his head and was waving, trying to flag them down.
“Drive!” Fran told Josh.
Mathison had other ideas. He hopped onto the dashboard and pointed at the man, hooting and chirping.
The man smiled and yelled, “Mathison?”
Josh glanced at Fran. “Your call. We can talk to him, or leave.”
“Hello?” The man took a step forward. “Do you have a monkey in there?”
Duncan looked up at her. “It’s his monkey, Mom. We should give him back.”
Fran used her fingertips to brush the bangs from her son’s eyes. He hadn’t lost his ability to trust people, to look on the good side of things, even after the night he’d endured. Fran didn’t think she could ever trust anyone in a uniform again.
“I’m a scientist,” the man said. “I’m here to help. Look, I’m putting down this weapon. I’m not even sure what it is.”
Fran had a tense moment when he unslung the big shotgun, but he quickly set it down on the road and raised his hands over his head.
“What do you think?” Josh asked.
Her gut told her they should leave. Even if Mathison did belong to this man, it could be sorted out later. Fran’s primary concern was Duncan’s safety.
“No one helped us, Mom. After the crash.”
Fran couldn’t believe that came from his lips. Duncan
It had been late, almost midnight. They were driving home from the annual rodeo in Spooner, a neighboring town. Just ten minutes away from home, her husband, Charles, had slowed down to take a sharp turn on the winding country road. Some nameless driver—either drunk or careless—had taken no such precaution, taking up both lanes and forcing Charles to swerve into the woods to avoid a collision.
Their car went down an embankment and hit a tree, rolling them over and trapping them inside. Charles had been horribly injured. But Fran remained hopeful. They had crashed only a few yards off the road. Someone would see them. Someone would stop.
Twenty-three cars passed them up that night. Fran knew, because she counted. As each one approached, she prayed they would see the wreck and help. Each time, her prayers had gone unanswered.
It took two hours for Charles to bleed to death. And another hour before they were finally discovered. She remembered talking to Duncan during that time, soothing him, even as her husband’s life spilled out of his wounds and onto her face. Fran assumed Duncan had blocked the memory. Apparently he hadn’t. She looked at her son now, so earnest, so strong, so full of hope, and felt such overwhelming pride it made her chest hurt.
“Okay,” she told Josh. “Let’s talk to him.”
Josh opened the car door and craned his head out the opening. But just as he began to speak, Mathison jumped off the dash and galloped to the man, leaping into his arms. Fran let out a long breath as she watched the happy reunion, her apprehension dropping a notch. The monkey hugged the man, the man hugged the monkey, and both parties engaged in some back patting. Then Mathison jumped down to the street and hopped back into the car, sitting on Duncan’s lap and prompting a delighted squeal from her son.
“I take it you two know each other,” Josh said to the man.
“We go back a long ways. May I approach? I’m guessing some bad things have happened tonight and you’re spooked.”
Fran nodded at Josh.
“Okay, you can come closer. But please keep your hands where I can see them. We’ve had one helluva night.”
The man walked forward, keeping his arms raised. He stopped next to Josh’s door and squatted. Up close Fran saw that he was older, perhaps late fifties, and so thin his Adam’s apple looked enormous. His helmet was askew, revealing a bald head dotted with liver spots. He smiled, his front teeth slightly crooked.
“I’m Dr. Ralph Stubin. You’ve met Mathison, I see.”
Woof walked over and gave Stubin a sniff, then began to bark.
“Woof!” Fran used her firm voice. “Shush!”
The dog woofed once more, then turned a circle and sat back down.
“Is Mathison yours?” Duncan asked Stubin.
“Yes and no. I bought him, but he’s a sentient being and really only belongs to himself. We’re friends more than anything.” Stubin stopped grinning, and his face became serious. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on here, and how I fit in. I’m guessing there’s a roadblock ahead?”
Josh nodded. Fran wondered why Josh didn’t speak and realized he was waiting for information before he decided to share any. Smart.
Stubin rubbed his pointy chin. “I was afraid of that. Standard operating procedure, I suppose. Have there been any casualties yet?”
“At least four people have died,” Josh said evenly.
“But we got away!” Duncan added.
Fran gave Duncan a small pinch on the bottom, a signal to stay quiet.
“You got away?” Stubin raised his thick gray eyebrows. “Extraordinary.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” Josh asked.
“I have an idea. This is kind of a long story, and I’m guessing you don’t want to invite me into your car. And rightfully so. Do you want to talk outside?”
Stubin’s eyes flashed to Duncan, then back to Fran. She understood. There were things her son didn’t need to hear.
“Duncan, stay in the car with Woof and Mathison.”
Duncan opened his mouth, apparently ready to protest, but then Mathison pulled himself onto Josh’s shoulder and began picking at his hair.
“He’s grooming you,” Stubin said. “He only does that with people he likes.”
“Can I pet him?” Duncan asked.
“He doesn’t like his head being touched, but he likes belly rubs.”
Duncan tentatively tickled Mathison’s midsection, and the primate cooed. Fran relished the big smile on Duncan’s face, then she and Josh got out of the Roadmaster. She met them by the front of the car.
Josh folded his arms and said, “Okay. Tell us what the hell is going on in this town.”
“May I ask your names?” Dr. Stubin asked.
Josh offered his first name only, and Fran followed his lead. There was a round of hand shaking, and Fran
