QUINN COCKED HER HEAD. The sound came from everywhere. And from nowhere.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kara.
“Can’t you hear it?”
Mrs. Cawston stopped. “Hear what?”
“That noise,” said Quinn.
Kara paused for a moment. “Wind turbines. They have farms of them in the desert.”
Kara’s dad was at the diner door. “Environmental eyesores. Kill thousands of birds a day. The sound can drive you nuts.”
Wind turbines, thought Quinn. That was probably it.
Kara’s dad opened the diner door. A bell jingled softly. They followed him inside.
A man sat leaning back in a chair, his feet resting on the counter. Gnarly yellow toenails jabbed out from worn Birkenstock sandals. His jeans were shredded at the ends and his faded floral button-down had seen better days. He was reading a newspaper—Underground Radical. Quinn zeroed in on the enormous headline and froze. Missing Brothers. It had a photo of two boys.
The man lowered the paper. Long silver hair held in place with a tie-dyed headband framed his pockmarked face. “Whad’ya want?”
“I think Norm ran out of flower power,” whispered Josh. Mrs. Cawston elbowed him.
“We were hoping for dinner,” said Mr. Cawston. “But if you’re closed…”
“We’re open.” He pointed to one of the booths lining the front of the car.
Mr. and Mrs. Cawston stared at each other for a moment. Then Josh’s stomach rumbled. He shrugged, walked to a booth, and slid into the seat. Kara and Quinn followed.
They forgot they were attached and tried to sit on opposite sides of the table. Kara pulled Quinn off balance and she nearly fell. She grabbed the table and steadied herself.
Josh sniggered. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.”
Carefully Quinn maneuvered into the seat across from Josh and slid toward the window. Kara followed. Mr. and Mrs. Cawston sat in the booth directly behind.
The man tossed three menus on the table. He glanced at the linked bracelets, frowned, and swaggered back to the counter, where he dug mismatched cutlery from blue plastic baskets.
“Check it out!” said Josh. “Dry as Desert Ribs. Cactus Quesadillas. Chuckwagon Chicken. And look, Dad! Norm’s specialty—the Diablo Burger!”
“Doesn’t diablo mean devil?” asked Quinn.
“Yeah! It’s got pepper Jack cheese, jalapeño rings, and three kinds of hot sauce!”
“Wow,” said Quinn. “Eat that and you’ll meet el diablo sooner than you think.”
“I’ll have the Roadhouse Chili,” said Kara. “Er, you don’t suppose it’s made from roadkill, do you?”
Mr. Cawston waved and the man strolled over with a pad of paper and a pen.
“Two Diablo Burgers,” said Josh. As though to avoid confusion he added, “Both for me.”
The man shook his head. “No Diablo Burgers.”
Josh’s face collapsed like an undercooked soufflé. He scrambled for his menu.
“Roadhouse Chili, please,” said Kara.
Norm shook his head again. “Outta chili, too.”
“Taco Salad?” said Quinn. She was met with the same slow shake of the man’s head.
“What do you have?” asked Mrs. Cawston, frustration creeping into her tone.
“Grilled cheese,” said the man. Everyone waited for more options, but none came.
“That’s it?” said Josh.
“’Fraid so,” said the man. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take two,” said Josh quickly.
“Make that six,” sighed Mr. Cawston.
“Six orders of grilled cheese,” the man said, scribbling on his pad of paper as though he might forget.
As they waited, Quinn glanced around. A collection of vintage baseball caps hanging on the wall at one end of the railcar caught her attention. On the opposite wall was a black pay phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a pay phone.
The man brought the sandwiches. As he passed Quinn her plate, he glanced at her bracelet and scowled.
“Um, Norm?” said Quinn.
He shook his head. “Not Norm.”
“If you’re not Norm, then who’s the diner named after?” asked Kara.
“No one,” said the man. “People around here don’t speak the names of the dead once they’re gone. Not much point in calling a diner a name you eventually can’t speak.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Quinn. “Speak the names?”
“When we die, our spirits linger near the land for several days. Once the soul passes beyond, we give our names back to the desert.”
The man-previously-known-as-Norm glanced again at the tied hands, and then walked back toward the counter.
Quinn was curious. She had to know why he seemed so bothered. She waited until everyone had finished eating. Not-Norm returned with the bill and began gathering the plates. Mr. Cawston was busy fishing through his wallet, and Josh and Mrs. Cawston had gone to the bathroom. Quinn motioned at their tied hands. “I guess you think we’re weird.”
Not-Norm averted his eyes. “Seen weirder.”
“We’re best friends,” said Quinn.
Kara grinned. “Best friends forever.”
Not-Norm dropped his chin. “I once dreamed of a two-headed bird. Half the bird was trying to fly, while the other half was bound to the ground.”
Quinn looked at Kara, then at their bracelets. She wanted to ask the man more, when Josh interrupted.
“How are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb gonna go to the bathroom?” He laughed like a drunken mule. Eeyhah. Eeyhah.
“I guess we should try to figure it out,” said Kara, dragging Quinn out of the booth.
As they left the diner, Quinn glanced over her shoulder. Not-Norm watched from the counter, a shadow draped over his gaunt face.
The day had deepened. They’d stayed too long in the diner. Soon the snakes and scorpions would be slinking out from under their rocks.
As she got into the car, Quinn noticed a lump of mangled fur along the side of the road. Above, black birds circled. Turkey vultures. She recognized them by their ugly red heads. They swooped, digging their hooked beaks into the fleshy feast. One large vulture came up with something dangling from its beak—an eyeball. Grilled cheese churned in Quinn’s stomach as she dove into the backseat. The van began to roll.
The hum was louder now, getting louder by the second. It was like the drone of a jet engine pressing against the walls of Quinn’s mind.
An eerie twilight swept the landscape and all the browns shimmered gold. Even the air had a strange amber glow. And everything—the road, the hills, the mountains, and the horizon—melted together with no distinguishing lines to tell them apart.
That was probably why no one noticed the light. Light so powerful, so blinding. Heading straight for them.