“We go tonight,” Jonah said, his voice weak, hoarse, his throat rasped raw. He’d tried to eat that morning but could not even keep down a piece of bread. His legs felt watery and his head clouded, but he planned to leave tonight. He’d time it so they’d head out for the truck in the late afternoon, at dusk, and be driving in the dark. He did not dare enter town in the light. “Tonight. We start again.”
“Home,” she said.
“Wherever we go, that’s our home.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
No one will harm or take you away again.
My child.