CHAPTER 1: ROBBY
T HE WIND WOKE HIM up, and he flopped his gloved hands from underneath a pile of sweatshirts on his lap. Robby blinked his eyes and they adjusted quickly to dim moonlight. He was looking through a windshield at the parking lot of a rest stop on I-95. Nothing on the other side of the glass moved except the waxing and waning shadows. The moon’s light filtered through the raveled blanket of clouds overhead.
The last two days reloaded into his consciousness in bursts of images. They’d been the worst two days of his short thirteen-year-old life. He’d fled his home and lost his friends and family. Robby remembered the blizzard. He remembered the panicked car trip when his dad had disappeared. He remembered the queasy boat ride back to the mainland and how his mom had disappeared. But mostly he remembered the corpses. Everywhere he went, he found dead people with their eyes exploded and running down their lifeless faces.
Robby shivered with the recollection, and from the cold. The driver’s-side window beside him was shattered—he had broken it with a jack handle when he’d stolen this Volvo from its dead owner. The socks and shoes on his feet belonged to that dead man as well.
Robby looked up to the car’s visor, at the mirror mounted there. He remembered the trick he’d discovered earlier that evening. If he looked in the mirror and saw his eyes, they looked just like his father’s eyes, and that gave him confidence. Robby moved forward a little to perfect the trick.
He could barely make them out in the dim light, but when he saw his father’s eyes in the mirror, he heard his father’s voice in his head—“ You should switch cars, Robby. Find one without a broken window. ”
Robby whispered back to himself—“They won’t have keys in them. I’d have to go search one of those corpses and find their keys. I don’t want to search any bodies in the dark.”
“It’s too cold, Robby. It can’t be more than fifteen degrees out, and you’re already shivering. You can run the engine for the heat, go in that building, or find another car, but staying here is not a smart option.”
“I’m not going back in there,” Robby whispered. “Not at night.”
A flash drew his attention away from the mirror. He let his eyes wander over the parking lot and wondered where the flash had come from. It could have been the moonlight reflecting off of something, but what? Robby scanned the parked cars and looked for one with a body close to it. Most of the corpses were stretched out on the sidewalk in front of the rest stop’s main entrance, but he figured he might find one close to a car. It might not be so bad to search a body if it were all on its own, away from the big group of corpses.
This time, he saw the flash.
It was a blue streak, like faint lightning, and it traveled from right to left, the wrong way down the middle of the highway. Robby held his breath and waited for it to come again. He ran out of air and had to gasp for more, but the flash didn’t come.
He glanced up to the mirror. “That can’t have been natural,” his father’s voice said in his head.
Robby nodded in response. He returned his eyes to the highway.
He reached to turn the key and start the engine but then pulled his hand back. Where would he go? The only way in or out of the rest stop was by the highway.
Two more blue streaks flashed down I-95, only a second apart.
Robby bit his lip and tried to think. He could be counted on to reason through a situation—consider all the facts and come up with a plan—but he had nothing, nothing but fear. Back in the mirror, his father’s eyes offered no solution. Should he risk trying to drive? Hide out in the building with the dead bodies? Try to make his way on foot?
An idea broke through his panic.
“Where do the workers park?” he asked himself. “The last entrance was more than ten miles back. How do the people who work here—the clerks and
T HE WIND WOKE HIM up, and he flopped his gloved hands from underneath a pile of sweatshirts on his lap. Robby blinked his eyes and they adjusted quickly to dim moonlight. He was looking through a windshield at the parking lot of a rest stop on I-95. Nothing on the other side of the glass moved except the waxing and waning shadows. The moon’s light filtered through the raveled blanket of clouds overhead.
The last two days reloaded into his consciousness in bursts of images. They’d been the worst two days of his short thirteen-year-old life. He’d fled his home and lost his friends and family. Robby remembered the blizzard. He remembered the panicked car trip when his dad had disappeared. He remembered the queasy boat ride back to the mainland and how his mom had disappeared. But mostly he remembered the corpses. Everywhere he went, he found dead people with their eyes exploded and running down their lifeless faces.
Robby shivered with the recollection, and from the cold. The driver’s-side window beside him was shattered—he had broken it with a jack handle when he’d stolen this Volvo from its dead owner. The socks and shoes on his feet belonged to that dead man as well.
Robby looked up to the car’s visor, at the mirror mounted there. He remembered the trick he’d discovered earlier that evening. If he looked in the mirror and saw his eyes, they looked just like his father’s eyes, and that gave him confidence. Robby moved forward a little to perfect the trick.
He could barely make them out in the dim light, but when he saw his father’s eyes in the mirror, he heard his father’s voice in his head—“ You should switch cars, Robby. Find one without a broken window. ”
Robby whispered back to himself—“They won’t have keys in them. I’d have to go search one of those corpses and find their keys. I don’t want to search any bodies in the dark.”
“It’s too cold, Robby. It can’t be more than fifteen degrees out, and you’re already shivering. You can run the engine for the heat, go in that building, or find another car, but staying here is not a smart option.”
“I’m not going back in there,” Robby whispered. “Not at night.”
A flash drew his attention away from the mirror. He let his eyes wander over the parking lot and wondered where the flash had come from. It could have been the moonlight reflecting off of something, but what? Robby scanned the parked cars and looked for one with a body close to it. Most of the corpses were stretched out on the sidewalk in front of the rest stop’s main entrance, but he figured he might find one close to a car. It might not be so bad to search a body if it were all on its own, away from the big group of corpses.
This time, he saw the flash.
It was a blue streak, like faint lightning, and it traveled from right to left, the wrong way down the middle of the highway. Robby held his breath and waited for it to come again. He ran out of air and had to gasp for more, but the flash didn’t come.
He glanced up to the mirror. “That can’t have been natural,” his father’s voice said in his head.
Robby nodded in response. He returned his eyes to the highway.
He reached to turn the key and start the engine but then pulled his hand back. Where would he go? The only way in or out of the rest stop was by the highway.
Two more blue streaks flashed down I-95, only a second apart.
Robby bit his lip and tried to think. He could be counted on to reason through a situation—consider all the facts and come up with a plan—but he had nothing, nothing but fear. Back in the mirror, his father’s eyes offered no solution. Should he risk trying to drive? Hide out in the building with the dead bodies? Try to make his way on foot?
An idea broke through his panic.
“Where do the workers park?” he asked himself. “The last entrance was more than ten miles back. How do the people who work here—the clerks and
Similar Books
