The Dead Series (Book 3): Dead Line by Adam Millard Page A

were flipping over and over, a never-ending sequence of sky, ground, sky, ground, sky . . .
     
    *
     
    Shane looked down at the fuel-gauge once again. He was trying to work out just how many miles they would cover before reverting to walking, and also trying to work up to telling the rest of the group that they would be lucky if they made it beyond Brookhaven.
    They were on a quarter tank, which was enough for now.
    In the back, Marla and River were discussing make-up, for some unknown reason. River was intrigued by eye-liner and rouge, and Marla was only happy to tell her which shades worked best with which.
    It was . . . normal . A regular conversation, something that none of them had experienced for a long time. Perhaps it was the safety that the car offered them; they were protected so long as they kept moving, and the palpable relief had settled everyone down into a semblance of familiarity.
    Shane listened over the monotonous drone of the Camry's engine as Marla described browns and greens, purples and beiges, and River ate it all up. It was funny because nobody, least of all Shane, had her pegged as a “get dolled up and pretty” kinda gal.
    And maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was trying to do what was expected of normal girls, so as not to lose touch with who or what she truly was, or would have been if the lurkers hadn't come.
    Terry was thumbing through his bible; Shane didn't like to interrupt him when he was so engrossed in the book, though he sometimes liked to watch as Terry read, his lips moving silently along with whatever passage he was working on. His silvery beard was twitching now, which made Shane smile.
    'River wants to know whether you've ever worn make-up,' Marla said, which sent both the girls in the back into hysterics.
    'Never,' Shane said across his shoulder. 'I once had my face painted at a kid's party . . . ' he paused, for it had been Megan's third birthday to which he referred; the memory hitting him like a brick to the face. Then he said, 'I was a giraffe, but I don't think that counts as make-up.'
    'Sounds like it to me,' River said. 'Were you wearing a dress?'
    Shane shook his head. 'Despite what you may have heard,' he told her, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, 'not all giraffes wear dresses.'
    River laughed. 'No, silly , not giraffes. I meant when you . . . never mind.'
    Shane had outsmarted an eight year-old, and it felt good. She was sassy, and he had finally retorted and rendered her speechless. Ah, the way the tables had turned . . .
    'Shane's the kind of guy that only puts make-up on when the bathroom door's locked,' Marla said. 'Isn't that right, Shane?'
    'Oh, sure. Why not? I prance around in a satin nightgown and sing Abba songs at the same time.'
    River exploded with laughter, and then asked who Abba were.
    It was things like that – the littlest things – which made her so wonderful to be around. It was impossible to believe they had only know her for a short period of time. To Shane, and certainly to Terry – who worshipped her – and Marla – who seemed to be mothering her in the only way she knew how – it was as if she had been there all along.
    'Abba are a Swedish band . . . sorry, were a Swedish band.' Shane struggled, strangely, to comprehend that Agnetha, Benny, Björn, and Anni-Frid were most likely dead, or worse. An image leapt into his head of the group, wandering around in their glittery garb, snarling and dribbling that tarry goo everywhere. Abba as lurkers was not a comforting thought.
    'Like Aqua?' River asked.
    'Who?' Shane had no idea.
    'Aqua are . . . were from that part of the world. Barbie Girl? Remember.' She began to sing a little excerpt from whatever song she was referring to; to Shane it sounded godawful. 'Sounds to me like your band ripped off Aqua.'
    Marla giggled. 'Yeah, Shane. Your band totally ripped off our band.' She was really starting to enjoy herself.
    'Apart from the fact that Abba formed in the seventies, and your band, Aquafresh, or