map into her coat pocket, Kate cast a glance back at Eddie Clement’s silhouette still seated in the car. “What about him?”
“To hell with him,” Todd groaned, pulling the strap of the duffel bag up over one shoulder. He unzipped it and squeezed his laptop inside.
Fred slammed the hatchback shut, then gently gripped Todd’s forearm. “While I’m just as anxious to part ways with our good friend,” Fred whispered, “I think I’d feel more comfortable knowing where he is for the time being. Do you catch my drift?”
Todd considered. Fred was right. Walking alongside the Jeep, Todd thumped a fist on one of the windows. “Let’s go, Eddie.”
The man’s head barely turned to acknowledge him.
Todd opened the door. For the briefest moment, a smell passed through his nose—of something moist and rotting in a hot root cellar. Inside the Jeep, Eddie’s eyes seemed to glint like stones flecked with mica.
“Get out of the car, Eddie. We’re going for a walk.”
“I’m tired of walking.”
“What about your daughter?”
For a moment it seemed that Eddie Clement would remain seated in the backseat of the Cherokee until the apocalypse showered the earth in nuclear winter. Then, expressionlessly, he shifted his considerable bulk toward the door and practically fell out onto the snow. Todd caught him with one arm. Beneath his flannel coat, the man’s arm felt like the limb of an oak tree.
As they walked, it started to snow again. Lightly at first, but with each footstep it seemed to intensify. Todd’s toes felt numb in his boots and, after just a good five minutes, his legs began to ache. Around them, the trees seemed to grow taller and denser and crowd in closer on all sides. If it weren’t for the road, which was covered in snow but still identifiable, they would have surely wandered off into the woods and disappeared.
“I don’t like this,” Kate said, saddling up beside him. Her face had gone as pale as the moon, the only exception being the tinge of red at the tip of her small nose. “Where’s the goddamn town? We should be seeing streetlights, smoke coming up through chimneys.”
Todd nodded, then shot a look back over his shoulder. Eddie had been bringing up the rear, deliberately dragging his heavy feet like some overgrown and obstinate child. But Fred Wilkinson was apparently not comfortable with Eddie walking behind him; the older man had slowed his gait until he fell back far enough to keep Eddie firmly in his periphery.
“We should have left him back at the car,” Kate said. “What was it Nan said before? He gives me the willies.”
“Fred thought we should keep an eye on him.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t trust him.”
“Do you?”
“No,” Todd said after a moment.
Behind them, Fred called out to Nan. Todd and Kate stopped in their tracks and spun around.
Nan had negotiated her way off the road and over into the billowy mounds of snow that lay thick and heavy at the foot of the pines. Still clutching the teddy bear to her chest, she stood somewhat aloof, peering through the twirling snow and into the trees.
“Nan,” Fred called again, this time hustling over to her. He gently took one elbow and followed her gaze into the shadows of the dark pines. “What is it?”
Nan blinked, then shook her head. “I thought I saw someone.”
“Where?” Fred asked.
“Right there. Through the trees.”
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Fred shouted, “Hello!” His voice echoed and caused Nan to jump.
“There’s no one there,” Todd called back. “It’s a trick of the snow, Nan. Makes you think you’re seeing things that aren’t there.”
“Speaking of things that aren’t there,” Fred said, turning around.
Todd looked, too, and found that Eddie Clement had vanished. What might have felt like relief earlier in the night now caused a tremor of panic to ripple through him.
“God,” Kate intoned. There was an octave-dropping sickness to her tone.