“What does Törökul want?” he asked.
“The elders need to come down from the mountains within forty-eight hours, or he’ll launch the Sword of God against Uth. Ifhis people can’t have the mosque, he doesn’t want anyone to have it.”
Will leaned back.
“Jesus,” he said. “They better get word to the old guys to hurry up their vote.”
“They can’t,” Leigh said. “They’re hidden, in a cave or something. That’s the whole point, remember? No one knows where theyare. They’ll come back when they come back.”
“To a big, smoking hole in the ground,” Will said. “I don’t understand why the Site would do this. What the fuck would begained from some city in Central Asia getting vaporized?”
“Will, you don’t understand. It’s not just Uth. All night long . . . while we were asleep . . . the world . . . it’s all fallingapart.”
Leigh’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
“Qandustan has a defense treaty with China. So China said that if Uth gets nuked, they’ll send attack bombers into the mountainswhere they think Törökul is hiding. Half the Muslim countries in the world said they’d fight to stop that, and that includesPakistan and Saudi Arabia.”
“Pakistan and China both have nukes, too,” Will said.
“And the Saudis,” Leigh said. “Apparently for a while. They thought now would be a good time to announce it. The U.S. hasa defense treaty with them, just like China with Qandustan. So if China starts fighting the Saudis . . .”
“So that’d be it. Everyone would jump in. Boom.”
Will closed his eyes, his gut churning, thinking about the Site laughing at him for putting up his idiotic fake predictions,trying to change a world that wouldn’t even exist in a few days.
“In one fucking night?” he said.
He felt Leigh’s hand on his back, a tentative touch.
“What’s going to happen, Will? Tell me you know what’s going to happen.”
Will thought, and wondered, and had nothing to say.
Chapter 40
Leigh pushed her cart down the aisle, looking at the nearly empty shelves, attempting to ignore the news broadcast runningon the store’s speaker system, giving an update on the global crisis—nothing she didn’t already know, and nothing she wantedto hear.
Panner’s Market was the only grocery store in Feldspar Creek—a market, really. A small store for a small town, never withall that much in stock.
Still. This was apocalyptic. Gaping holes where the staples should have been. No flour or sugar, no toilet paper, no coffee.
They had almost reached the cabin. According to Will, it was a fifteen-minute drive up the mountain from the town. The placehad taken on a talismanic quality in Leigh’s mind—a refuge where they could finally settle in and think, figure out a nextstep.
Until, of course, the world ended in a huge nuclear fireball.
The feast had been her idea. A celebration of their arrival at the cabin, and a sort of screw-you to the Site—a dance to thegraveyard.
Hamza had supposedly stocked the safe house—and “safe” was relative, under the circumstances—with canned goods, bottled water,and other nonperishables. Enough to last for a while, if they needed it, but fresh was fresh, and so Leigh had pulled intoPanner’s Market in search of milk, eggs, fruits, and vegetables. A few good steaks, if they could be found. They had talkedabout grilling that night, maybe splitting a bottle or three of wine.
Apparently, though, she wasn’t the only one in Feldspar Creek thinking that way. The tiny butcher’s case held only a few grayingpackages of ground chuck. Leigh grabbed them and made her way to the register, where she waited her turn behind a line ofstill, silent shoppers.
The checkout clerk—a well-padded older woman with brilliant, bottle-red hair and a name tag labeling her as a Claire—workedthe line with quiet efficiency.
Claire looked a little off her game. Her makeup was unevenly applied, and her hair was messy.
“Hi there,” she said, as Leigh stepped up.
“Hello,” Leigh said. She began unloading her cart and placing the groceries on the conveyor belt. Claire swiped Leigh’s itemsacross the scanner. She rushed it and hissed with impatience when the laser didn’t ring up the price on the first try.
Leigh opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. She unsnapped it and thumbed through the sheaf of bills inside, literallythe last of their cash.
She considered the fact that her trip west with the Oracle had used almost exactly, to the penny, the amount of money Willhad brought with him from New York, and let her mind skitter away. She’d only known Will Dando for about a week, and she wasalready largely postcoincidence.
“You’re lucky you made it,” Claire the clerk told her. “We’re closing early today.”
“I get it,” Leigh said.
“I just want to be home, you know?”
“I do,” Leigh agreed. “I really do.”
Claire stopped scanning Leigh’s items and settled back, holding a thin plastic bag containing the one anemic-looking headof lettuce the market’s cold case had left to offer. She looked bleakly at her empty market.
“You know, I’ve made more money this week than I do in the whole down season up here. I should go spend it, you know? Buysomething nice, while I still can.”
She pressed a button on her cash register.
“Forty-eight ninety-seven,” she said.
Leigh nodded, and looked down at her wallet, then dimly realized that words from the news broadcast were penetrating her consciousnessdespite her best efforts to screen them out.
“President Daniel Green.” “Cancer.” “New prediction.” “The Site.” “The Oracle.” “Three to four months.”
“The Oracle.”
The Oracle.
Leigh’s head swam. Nausea churned in her gut. Hazily, she fumbled a few bills from her wallet and dropped them on the checkoutscanner. She grabbed the grocery bags and walked toward the exit, ignoring Claire, dimly aware that the woman was holdingup the money and calling after her. She had paid too much or too little. It didn’t matter.
Leigh walked quickly to the Nissan, parked at the edge of the market’s small lot. Will was visible through the windshield,in a cap and wig and glasses—he was always in disguise now, unless he was behind a locked door. His head was down. The posefelt to Leigh like he was looking at his phone. The phone he
