42

Massachusetts

Salem shrieked and jerked the steering wheel to the right. She narrowly avoided colliding with the animal but had over-compensated, careening toward the ditch. A bevy of horns blared and lights flew at her from every direction as the sedan’s tire caught loose gravel and the car spun. Salem slammed her foot on the brake and held it rigid. The brake’s screams matched her own as the smell of burning rubber filled the air.

Finally, the car slid to a halt, one back tire in the ditch, the two front tires creating a perpendicular line with the passing traffic. The deer, a twelve-point buck at least, continued to wreak havoc on the traffic going the other direction before bounding safely into the far woods.

“Everyone okay?” Bel asked.

“Mercy?” Ernest nearly jumped over the seat to reach his sister.

Her voice was tiny. “I’m okay.”

Salem released the steering wheel, realizing too late that it was all that was anchoring her hands, which took to the air like palsied birds. “I’m all right,” she croaked.

“Then let’s get out of here before the police arrive.” Bel unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car. She tapped on Salem’s window, helped her out, and hugged her quickly before sliding into the driver’s seat. Salem hobbled into the backseat, adrenaline rattling her bones, the brisk air a small help in clearing her head.

“I’m still hungry,” Mercy said, so quiet that Salem was sure she was the only one who heard it.

“Bel,” Salem said, “we need to rest. You and I haven’t slept in over two days. It’s dangerous. And I need to research what Ernest told us plus figure out exactly where in Amherst we’re going. A shower wouldn’t kill me, either.”

“I’d feel better if we kept moving.” Bel timed their reentry into the traffic. “Can you do the research on your phone?”

Salem glanced over at Mercy. Ernest’s jacket had slipped off in the near-accident, revealing the girl’s painfully thin arms. When was the last time you ate, baby girl? “I need to use my laptop,” Salem said firmly.

“And lemme guess, you were too cheap to pay for a hotspot on your phone?” But Bel’s tone was acquiescent. Salem knew it would be a relief for all of them to stop.

“Look.” Salem shoved her hand between Bel and Ernest to point ahead. “Right up here—a motel and a pizza restaurant, all advertised on the same billboard. It’s a sign from the universe. This exit, please.”

Bel did as requested, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Motel just off the ramp. Its vintage neon sign was at odds with the crumbling strip of rooms to each side of the office. A gas station that looked like it’d last pumped fuel during the Reagan era was the only other building on the scrabby patch of road, which led south to Littleton and north to the highway they’d just exited, the latter so close Salem could read the license plates of the cars zooming past if she squinted. She marched into the Holiday Motel office and exited four minutes later with the key to room 11, two double beds, no smoking.

The room was at the far north end of the motel, so Bel moved the car, and the four of them trudged into the room, quiet as a prayer.

When the door closed behind them, Bel slid the chain lock into place and secured a chair under the knob as an extra precaution.

Outside, a gray sedan pulled into the abandoned gas station parking lot and killed its lights.

No one got out.