A smaller fire had swept around the next store they visited, and the owner was still outside with a hose, spraying down the walls. There was a stench of charcoal and smoke in the air.
‘Not heading west, are you?’ the man said. ‘It’s getting ferocious out there. Almost took this whole lot.’ And as he directed his hose back onto the roof, his teeth showed, speckled with ash and grit.
Out of habit, Sam found himself standing in front of a comic-book stand, his eyes scanning the covers. To his surprise, he finally found, tucked at the back, with its pages crumpled and bent in half, an earlier edition of Tales of Fear than the one he already owned.
Dettie hovered behind him, and when she saw what he was flicking through, snatched it from his hand. As she held it up to look at the drawing of a car on the cover, her face softened. She crossed to the counter to pay for the comic, and bought a packet of Chico Babies for Katie.
When they were back on the road his sister, who had not said a word for three hours, rolled down her window and hurled the Chicos as hard as she could from the car. Sam was surprised that Dettie didn’t comment—about the window, or the lollies, or the quiet. She just rubbed her eyes and twitched, and kept on driving.