Page 55 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

Ash gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his head
drooping forward. “Damn him!” He beat his palm against
the wheel. Then he opened the door and leaped out, falling
against the hood of the car, scrambling to get his feet under
him. Rebus rocked, convulsed.
“Hey!” Nate shouted, fumbling with his seat belt.
Ash strode to the outer edge of the rest stop, where pines
rimmed the clear space. Combat boots flailing, he kicked a

garbage can once, twice. It rolled on its side, spilling fast-
food garbage into the snow. Greta could see the dent from
where she sat, her nails squeezing half moons into her palms.
The back of Nate’s seat held her head upright. Another car
pulled in behind them, idled for a second and then turned
back to the highway.
Ash stopped and looked skyward, as if waiting for some-

thing. His breath billowed around him, like he’d just run a
marathon. His black jacket slipped off his shoulders and his
boot laces hung loose. Unraveling.
Nate opened his door and walked around to the driver’s
seat, leaving the passenger door hanging open. Any warmth
was whisked away in one gust. A minute passed. Ash raked
his hands through his hair and stumbled back to them.
The whole car shuddered as he dropped into his seat—the
heaviest person in the world.

Ash exhaled, expelling the last sliver of light in him.
“He’s dead to me.” They waited for more. “Let’s go.”
Nate turned the key, and Rebus started—loyal, forgiving.
They drove eighty on the highway, hazard lights blinking.

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