credit card till I get there.”
“Credit card?”
He hands her one. “This is good up to ten thousand. Feel free to use it all, if you need to.”
“I thought we were going together.”
“We are. But just in case we get separated, or something goes wrong.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe we get stopped by the police and I get detained for a few days. Maybe we have a car wreck and I have to go to the hospital. Maybe—”
“Stop. I get the point.”
She folds the papers, puts them in her back pocket, and says, “This is thoughtful of you, Jack, but we’re not going to be separated. From here on out, I’m sticking to you like cold spaghetti.”
Heading west on I-12, Jack says, “Are you sure your Emma Wilson ID is clean?”
“Far as I know.”
He reaches in his jacket, hands it to her. She puts it in her jeans’ pocket.
“Is it stolen?” Jack says.
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“The real Emma Wilson would be my age if she were still alive, but she died in a car wreck on her ninth birthday.”
“She never paid taxes?”
“Nope.”
“Shit. And the only work history’s the Pancake House?”
“That’s the downside.”
Jack frowns. “If there’s an upside, I hope you’ll share it with me.”
“No one in Willow Lake will have any reason to check my ID too closely.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we’ll be a couple. And they already know you .”
“You make it sound like you’re actually going to give us a try.”
“I said I would, and meant it.”
A car comes roaring up behind them, draws even, and honks.
“What now?” Jack says.
“He’s pointing to our trunk.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. Let’s pull over and check it out.”
Jack waves a thank you to the car, slows down, pulls over.
Jill jumps out, yells, “ Damn it!” Then climbs back in the car and says, “We’ve got to get off the interstate, and quick.”
“Why?”
“The Fosters kicked both our tail lights out!”
“Shit!”
Jack takes the next exit, turns south.
“What’re you doing ?” Jill says.
“There’s bound to be a right turn soon. It’ll take us straight to Baton Rouge.”
“I’m from here, remember?”
“So?”
“There is no right turn. Not till you get to French Settlement. We’re going way off course. They’ll have that trunk kicked open before you know it.”
“All the more reason not to go back to the interstate. What’s near here?”
“Nothing but swamps.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Then what the hell is that?” Jack says, pointing straight ahead.
The night sky before them is suddenly alive with flames.
“Turn around, Jack! Now!”
He slams the brake pedal, cuts the tires left, gets halfway across the road. He backs up, throws the car in drive, attempts to complete the turn, but that’s as far as he gets.
Hundreds of men, women, and children converge on the road.
“What the fuck ?”
“We’re trapped!”
They appear from the marsh instantaneously, like a scene from Walking Dead .
Except that these people are very much alive.
A dozen men jump on the car like monkeys in a zoo riot. After posing and flexing their muscles, they take up positions on the hood, roof, and trunk of the car…
…And start dancing.
The others chant: “Soybeans! Yams! Cotton! Crabs!”
“Oh, shit!” Jill says.
“What?”
“It’s the Virgin Boat Festival.”
“You’re making that up.”
“We’re going to be here a while.”
“Where’d they all come from? The road was deserted a minute ago.”
“It’s part of the festival. There are a thousand people between here and the bayou. We hit it at the exact wrong time. This totally sucks.”
“We can’t even open the doors!” Jack says.
“We’ll have to wait till they flame the pirogue.”
“I’m sure that sentence makes perfect sense to the locals.”
“These aren’t locals. They’re Vikings.”
“Vikings?”
“It’s insane. The whole stupid
“Credit card?”
He hands her one. “This is good up to ten thousand. Feel free to use it all, if you need to.”
“I thought we were going together.”
“We are. But just in case we get separated, or something goes wrong.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe we get stopped by the police and I get detained for a few days. Maybe we have a car wreck and I have to go to the hospital. Maybe—”
“Stop. I get the point.”
She folds the papers, puts them in her back pocket, and says, “This is thoughtful of you, Jack, but we’re not going to be separated. From here on out, I’m sticking to you like cold spaghetti.”
Heading west on I-12, Jack says, “Are you sure your Emma Wilson ID is clean?”
“Far as I know.”
He reaches in his jacket, hands it to her. She puts it in her jeans’ pocket.
“Is it stolen?” Jack says.
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“The real Emma Wilson would be my age if she were still alive, but she died in a car wreck on her ninth birthday.”
“She never paid taxes?”
“Nope.”
“Shit. And the only work history’s the Pancake House?”
“That’s the downside.”
Jack frowns. “If there’s an upside, I hope you’ll share it with me.”
“No one in Willow Lake will have any reason to check my ID too closely.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we’ll be a couple. And they already know you .”
“You make it sound like you’re actually going to give us a try.”
“I said I would, and meant it.”
A car comes roaring up behind them, draws even, and honks.
“What now?” Jack says.
“He’s pointing to our trunk.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. Let’s pull over and check it out.”
Jack waves a thank you to the car, slows down, pulls over.
Jill jumps out, yells, “ Damn it!” Then climbs back in the car and says, “We’ve got to get off the interstate, and quick.”
“Why?”
“The Fosters kicked both our tail lights out!”
“Shit!”
Jack takes the next exit, turns south.
“What’re you doing ?” Jill says.
“There’s bound to be a right turn soon. It’ll take us straight to Baton Rouge.”
“I’m from here, remember?”
“So?”
“There is no right turn. Not till you get to French Settlement. We’re going way off course. They’ll have that trunk kicked open before you know it.”
“All the more reason not to go back to the interstate. What’s near here?”
“Nothing but swamps.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Then what the hell is that?” Jack says, pointing straight ahead.
The night sky before them is suddenly alive with flames.
“Turn around, Jack! Now!”
He slams the brake pedal, cuts the tires left, gets halfway across the road. He backs up, throws the car in drive, attempts to complete the turn, but that’s as far as he gets.
Hundreds of men, women, and children converge on the road.
“What the fuck ?”
“We’re trapped!”
They appear from the marsh instantaneously, like a scene from Walking Dead .
Except that these people are very much alive.
A dozen men jump on the car like monkeys in a zoo riot. After posing and flexing their muscles, they take up positions on the hood, roof, and trunk of the car…
…And start dancing.
The others chant: “Soybeans! Yams! Cotton! Crabs!”
“Oh, shit!” Jill says.
“What?”
“It’s the Virgin Boat Festival.”
“You’re making that up.”
“We’re going to be here a while.”
“Where’d they all come from? The road was deserted a minute ago.”
“It’s part of the festival. There are a thousand people between here and the bayou. We hit it at the exact wrong time. This totally sucks.”
“We can’t even open the doors!” Jack says.
“We’ll have to wait till they flame the pirogue.”
“I’m sure that sentence makes perfect sense to the locals.”
“These aren’t locals. They’re Vikings.”
“Vikings?”
“It’s insane. The whole stupid
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