Åsaa nods, then drives after the car with the trailer. It stops by the nearest pier, and Åsaa stops too, glancing over at Dan. “You think …?”
“Let’s just wait a minute,” Dan says, not taking his eyes off the other car. “Don’t turn off the engine.”
“Did you see who they were? I couldn’t make out the driver.”
“Me neither. Let’s wait and see who comes out.”
For half a minute or so, no one does. The car with the trailer just sits there, engine idling.
“They must’ve seen us,” Åsaa mutters.
“Or maybe they’re just making sure the coast is clear,” Dan suggests.
Åsaa checks the mirrors. “Maybe we should just get out of here.”
“Why? You see anyone infected?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”
“They’ve got a jet ski,” Dan points out.
Åsaa looks at him. “You planning on stealing it from them?”
Dan shakes his head. “They might know where we can find one too.”
“Oh. Right.”
Another thirty seconds pass by. Still nothing happens. Dan can sense Åsaa grow more agitated. He begins to feel tense himself.
“Maybe they’re dead,” Åsaa suggests.
“They were driving just a minute ago,” Dan reminds her—though he’s well aware that’s no real assurance that whoever is behind the wheel of the car is still alive.
“Let’s just—” Åsaa begins, then cuts herself off and points. “Look! They’re coming out.”
Dan sees the driver’s door open. It doesn’t swing open all the way, but just enough for someone to slip out and duck down out of sight. Dan catches a glimpse of blonde hair. It looks like a girl, but it’s too fast for him to tell for sure.
“They’re trying to hide from us,” Åsaa says in a tone of alarm. “They’re up to no good. I’m driving away from here.”
“No, wait!” Dan urges her. “They might just be scared.”
“Or they’re out to kill us! I’m not taking the chance.” She puts the car in reverse, and Dan realizes there’s no talking her out of it. He makes a quick decision, unbuckles and opens his door.
“No!” Åsaa cries out, trying to grab his arm as he steps out onto the concrete. “What are you doing? Get back in here!”
Dan ignores her and raises his arm. “Hello? We just want to talk!”
TWENTY-ONE
Liv crouches down and looks under the car.
She can see the guy from here; standing next to the open door, as though he’s ready to jump back in at any moment. She can’t really blame him for that; she suspects someone infected will show up at any moment. At least he isn’t armed.
“Hello?” he calls out, holding up an arm in a friendly gesture. “We just want to talk!”
He’s Danish too, Liv notices, biting her lip. Should I trust him? What would Grandpa have done?
The thought of Grandpa brings a stab to her heart. The loss is less than half an hour old, and Liv hasn’t even had the chance to process it.
The boy is around Liv’s own age, and he looks honest enough with his blonde hair and big, blue eyes. Through the windshield, Liv can make out the face of a woman maybe fifteen years older. Too young to be the guy’s mother, too old to be his girlfriend. Probably his sister, though they don’t look at all alike.
“It’s okay!” the boy calls, stepping forward a few paces. “Really, we just want to find a way out of here.”
Liv glances up at the trailer, and suddenly, she recalls what Grandpa told her right after they loaded the jet ski:
“We’ll have to be very careful. This thing is worth more than gold now.”
She hadn’t really paid that much notice when he said it, but now the meaning of it is glaringly clear to her.
“Listen, I’m coming over!” the guy goes on, stepping closer to the trailer while holding out his hands. “You can see I’m not armed!”
Liv feels a pang of panic. “Stop right there!” she calls out. “Don’t come any closer. I-I have a gun!”
She stammers at the exact wrong moment, and the lie is all too obvious. She can tell the boy hears it too, because he only hesitates for a moment, before he steps closer.
“It’s okay, I promise, I just want to talk. I’m sure we can help each other.”
Liv realizes there’s nothing she can say to keep the boy from coming over, so she stands up and faces him from between the car and the trailer. Once he gets a clear look at her, he actually stops and smiles.
“You speak Danish,” he says.
Liv’s not sure whether it’s a question. “Uh-huh.”
He points at the jet ski. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s mine. I didn’t steal it.”
“I didn’t say you did. I just asked where you got it. I’m Dan, by the way. What’s your name?”
Liv glances over at the car and the woman behind the wheel staring out at them. Then she looks around to check no one else is sneaking up on them.
“Look, I don’t think we should be out here,” she tells him. “It’s not safe. I’m leaving now. You should do the same.”
She begins to unfasten the trailer, hoping the boy will take the hint and go away.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he says: “You’ll need help with that.”
Liv realizes he’s right, of course. There’s no way she’ll be able to push the trailer to the ramp on her own, much less hoist the jet ski down into the water. Grandpa was supposed to be here to help her, but …
“It’s fine,” she tells the boy, choking back tears now as she yanks the trailer’s handlebar. “I’ll manage. Just go away.”
The boy steps closer, and Liv recoils.
“It’s all right,” he tells her, looking earnest. “I’m not infected.” He flips the safety clamp—just like Liv saw Grandpa do earlier. “There. Now we can decouple it.” He smiles up at her. “Are you going to help?”
Liv takes a deep breath to steady herself, not moving. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to help.”
“You want the jet ski.”
“I would love
