The Night Parade(28)

So all hope wasn’t lost.

“Put your hat back on,” he instructed her.

She did so without uttering a word. Then she turned and stared out the window. This time, she cried in silence.





15


David drove for about an hour, piloted by the foolish compulsion that the more distance he created between themselves and the diner, the safer they were. The highway was eerily empty, and they were joined by only a few cars every once in a while. David did his best to avoid running alongside them, leaving a wide berth of glistening pavement between them, but occasionally a car would sidle up beside the Olds and trot there for a minute or two. When this happened, David couldn’t help but glance at the vehicle’s occupants, terrified that they might look at him and recognize him. But these people—these strangers—possessed the expressionless faces of alien life forms, and rarely did someone even return his glance through the barrier of windows that separated them.

When a police cruiser appeared in the rearview mirror, David felt a tightening in his chest. He wondered if the waitress had been paying too close attention in the diner after all. He decided to take the next exit and see if the cruiser followed him before he started to panic. When the ramp appeared on the right-hand shoulder, David turned on his blinker and took it. Holding his breath, he kept his eyes trained on the cruiser in the rearview mirror. Ellie’s crying had eventually lulled her to sleep, but the car’s quick movements jolted her awake. Startled, she looked at him, then turned around in her seat to peer through the rear windshield.

“Don’t do that,” he said sharply. “Turn around.”

Without a word, she turned around.

The cruiser followed them down the exit ramp.

Christ, no.

Still, he wouldn’t panic. Suddenly, the bulge of the Glock against the small of his back was all he could feel. Yet he wondered if he’d actually be able to use it on another person.

I won’t let them take her from me, he thought, slowing down as he approached the first in a series of traffic lights. The light was red, and so he stopped, the only car at the intersection. Up ahead was a grid of urban streets, a few people bustling up and down the sidewalks. There were a few other cars at the next intersection, too.

The cop pulled up alongside them in the right-hand lane.

He was grateful that Ellie didn’t turn to look at the cop. He did, however—a casual glance just to see if the cop was staring back at him.

The cop was.

The guy had a meaty face with ruddy cheeks and dark hair buzzed to bristles atop his head.

David averted his gaze, staring once again at the traffic lights that lined the boulevard ahead of them. He reminded himself that the cops were still searching for the Bronco—according to the news report, anyway—and that they were safe in the Olds. For now, he thought. How long until someone goes to the Langstroms’ house and finds the Bronco in their garage? How long before they realize I swapped cars and there’s an APB out on Burt’s Oldsmobile? How long before authorities enter his house and find—

A car horn blared. David blinked his eyes, then peered over at the police car. But the police car was already cruising through the intersection. David glanced over his shoulder and saw the chrome grille of a large pickup truck filling the Oldsmobile’s rear windshield. The pickup’s horn sounded a second time.

Ellie said, “Daddy?”

David took his foot off the brake and eased through the intersection. Behind him, the truck cut over to the next lane, sped up, and swerved in front of them. The driver’s window rolled down, and then there was a meaty forearm with its middle finger extended.

David slowed the car, letting the pickup truck and the police car collect some distance. He managed to blend in with traffic as they passed through the next several intersections, thankful that the lights held green and there was no more stopping.

“It wasn’t just a bad dream, was it?” Ellie said quietly. “About Mom.”

“No, hon.”

There were still a few businesses open along this road, though many others looked dark and deserted. Placards containing biblical quotes had been erected in some of the darkened windows. When they drove past a grove of condominiums, David could see yellow police tape over many of the doors and windows. Trash cans lay strewn about on the sidewalk. The few pedestrians who meandered up and down these blocks looked like extras in a George Romero film.

Because he felt too conspicuous—and too uneasy—driving down what appeared to be the main street of this run-down urban area, David took a turn onto a tree-studded secondary road that was mostly deserted. A few houses stood a distance from the road, mostly shaded behind pin oaks and corralled behind fences made of pine logs. There were large red X’s painted on each of the front doors of the houses, something that chilled David on sight. He had heard about such places on the news and had even seen pictures in newspapers back when neighborhoods were first being evacuated, but until now he hadn’t witnessed it in person. It was like coming face-to-face with a mythological creature.

“Did I hurt you?” Ellie said, looking at him. She glanced at his wrist.

“It’s okay now,” he said. The jolt of electricity he’d felt shoot up his arm and radiate through the marrow in his bones had faded just as he’d pulled his wrist free of Ellie’s grasp. “What was that, Ellie? What did you do?”