Twice he almost asked her about Nahom, almost pressured her to remember, but the trauma was too close and he set the questions aside. Instead, he addressed the continuing first leg of their expedition.

“We’re still going to Colorado,” he said, when finished his second slice of bread.

“Are you asking?”

“No. We still are, right?”

“Yeah. Sure. All this stuff we saw, Elliot, I don’t think it should stop us.”

“No,” he said.

“So yeah, we’re still going to Colorado. And then on up to Montana, was it? I’m sorry, I can’t remember. It feels like it’s been so long since we talked about this. But it’s only been–”

“A few days.”

“Man,” she said. “Only a few days. I’m so tired.”

“So am I.”

“In Colorado–and I still think I’m right about that–in Colorado, we’ll be okay. Safe. If anyone’s left there, then they’ll know what to do.”

“What is there to do?” Elliot asked. He whispered it, to himself more than her.

“What is there? Elliot, we’ll be safe. Whoever’s there will make us safe. That’s where they were taking everyone–”

“Taking the dead ones.”

“But that means something’s there.”

“Sure,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” She tossed an apple core out the window, where it bounced on the gravel curb. “I mean, of course tons is wrong, but what’s wrong right now?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Elliot…”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” She picked up Hope and scratched his chin. The dog yawned. “We won’t go there, I guess. So,” she shimmied backwards into her seat, sitting up straight, “what’s next then, stay on this road?”

“I think so,” Elliot said. “It was I-70 all the way. That goes through Denver.”

“How far?”

“I don’t know. Could be–”

“We don’t have a map,” she said, like this was something new and distressing.

“No.”

“So we don’t know where we are. Have you ever made this drive?”

Elliot shook his head. “We were in California and then we came out here. But I flew–to take care of things–and Clarine and Callie drove. You?”

“No,” she said. “But, hey, we’ll see something we recognize eventually, right?”

“I hope so.”

The rain stopped then and Evajean opened her door, letting Hope dash outside. She climbed out after him. “I need to pee,” she said. She smiled at him. “You should too, you know. With those crazies maybe still out there, I don’t want to have to stop again.”

Elliot nodded and pushed open his door. The air outside felt good: chilled and damp, but clean. He scratched the side of his face and stared out over the flat and grassy earth in what he was almost certain was north. And there, some distance away, he saw a bulge. It’s only rocks, he thought. Huge rocks. But it wasn’t, Elliot knew, because rocks wouldn’t move.

Evajean was coming around the side of the truck, zipping her jeans. “You see that?” he said to her, pointing.

“Where?” Then she saw and stood up stiff. “Elliot, what is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s moving.”

“Yeah.”

She squinted, stepping forward. “It’s coming towards us.”

She was right. Whatever was moving along the horizon, smooth and even, got bigger as he watched and, as it drew closer, he could see that it was turning. “Back in the truck,” he said and Evajean nodded, still staring. “Now,” he said and grabbed her arm. She pulled away from him and ran to where Hope was playing in the grass. But then the dog saw it too and, barking fiercely, ran away from them, away from the truck, and across the field. Evajean screamed its name and followed, stumbling through low shrubs.

Elliot cursed. That thing had to be dangerous because the entire world had gone dangerous and now, as he watched the only two living beings he could count on not to attack him charge in the direction of this new and terrifying beast, he flushed with a deep hatred of everything the world had done to him. It wouldn’t stop–this vile world enjoyed every minute of it.

“Stop!” he shouted after her. “Stop!” But she didn’t and the puppy was fast, widening the gap between them and shrinking the distance to the beast–and he could see that it was a beast because there were legs churning, driving the grey bulk forward.

It was the size of a two bedroom bungalow. A fat, slick body pulsed and rolled over legs as thick and meticulous as an elephant’s, though at least twice as numerous. And the face… Callie had watched this show about trains, talking trains, and she’d made them buy her the merchandise on three consecutive birthdays, and now, watching this thing close the distance, he could swear the face was one of those trains. More toothy, yes, and with larger, watery eyes, but the same face nonetheless. There was no neck and no indication of an actual head–just the horrible features stamped on the front of a grotesque lump of a body, like a decal glued to a car’s hood. And Elliot knew the hate the world had for him went deeper than taking his wife and child, deeper than stripping him of the life he’d loved, and descended all the way to pounding on the fragile walls of his mind.

The crazies he could understand in their pseudo-humanity, and even the fireworks from Evajean back in that mad town. These last were, at the very least, the actions of a woman he knew. This thing, however, which stumbled and churned through the grass and rain, was unfathomable.

So he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he ran after Evajean and kept his head down, not looking at the thing. It was just another threat, like the crazies, and as long as he thought of it that way, his mind would let him through this.