I went quietly to the door to the machine room and it came right open.

Then I heard Mario’s voice say, “Stop! No!”

But it was too late.

I saw what was inside.

* * *

Now he’s packing things. I can hear him in the dark, muttering to himself and cursing. He’s bustling all around, opening drawers. A little while ago he was back here in the bunk area, taking clothes out of a drawer.

He would have let us stay for a few more days, I just know it.

He would have let us stay until Max could walk again.

But I had to go looking in the machine room. And I saw her body there.

All wrapped up like a mummy.

His wife. It had to be.

The shape of a body is the shape of a body. You cannot pretend you didn’t see it or that you do not recognize it for what it is. Even if you really, really want to.

Mario scurried over and shut the door.

“Nosy, nosy, nosy!” he whispered. “You had to go poking around!”

“What’s going on?” came Niko’s voice, instantly alert.

“What’s wrong?” said Sahalia.

“Nothing,” I said softly. “I just opened the wrong door. Everyone go back to sleep.”

They were quiet after a moment.

Mario gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen. He glared at me for a long moment. I noticed he was trembling.

Then he whispered, “I built this place for us to share, me and Judy. I wasn’t going to stay here without her. She couldn’t make me promise and I won’t do it!”

I tried to talk to him, to make him understand that I wouldn’t tell about … Judy.

But he just pointed toward my bunk.

* * *

In the morning I saw he’d laid out all this stuff for us to take with us. A set of clothes for each kid. Three new backpacks that were loaded with water and these protein shakes you can drink with a built-in straw so Max and Niko can even drink them on the road.

And he’d cleaned our boots and masks.

He does care about us, but he’s making us leave.

Niko took the news very well.

He just nodded and said, “You gave us more than you said you would and we’re thankful.”

While we all got ready, I saw Niko hand Mario a letter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I bet the letter is for Josie. I don’t know how Niko thinks that Mario would come across Josie. Chances are better that she’d find us on the road. But, I guess it can’t hurt to be prepared.

After Mario showed Niko all the stuff he was giving us, Niko thanked him again.

“Do you have any rope?” Niko asked him.

“What for?” Mario asked.

“I want to figure out a way to rig up a carrier of some kind for Max. I thought I could tie him, somehow, to my back.”

At this, Mario got quiet.

“Well, I was thinking … maybe Max should stay here with me.”

It took us a moment for his words to soak in and then there was a group recoil, like he’d puked or something.

Ulysses cried out and Batiste shrieked no and Sahalia started yelling her head off.

“I know you don’t want to leave him.” Mario tried to speak over the loud protests but it was no good. “SIMMER DOWN!” he shouted. “I know you all don’t like the idea, but maybe Max would like to stay. Why don’t we ask him?”

From the back, Max shouted weakly, “Not a chance in hell.”

So Mario Scietto finally came to understand that we were not a group you could divide.

* * *

We walked.

It was better than before. For one thing, the road was pretty flat and straight. Also, we were rested, well fed, and had new clothes. Old boots but new clothes.

Mario had told Niko which houses in the development might have a stroller. Niko had found a good stroller, too. A jogging stroller. If Max felt embarrassed to be pushed along like a baby, he didn’t mention it. He was all wrapped up in a blue-and-orange Denver Broncos rain poncho Mario had given us.

We were walking on a road called Gun Club Road, which seemed sort of ominous, but the area there is flat and blah. Just mile after mile of nothing. No houses or buildings or rest stops.

Of course, there still were cars on and around the highway and cars were scary. Someone could be hiding in them, so we had to approach each one carefully. But mostly they were molded over and everything was quiet. It was deserted.

Gun Club Road runs fairly close to 470, so when we’d get close to the highway we would see some clusters of cars on the edge, but that was fine.

* * *

We walked and walked and walked. At first, I had thoughts in my head, but then the trudge, trudge, trudge of my feet on the road was so rhythmic, my brain stopped its spinning.

All there was was one foot in front of the other.

We might live. We might die. But it seemed like we’d never stop walking.

* * *

After many hours, Ulysses asked Niko to tell a Mrs. Wooly story.

“I can’t,” Niko said.

“Why not?” Max asked.

“It makes me too sad.”

“I know why,” Batiste said, huffing a little from our pace. “You think she’s dead.”

“No!” Ulysses protested. “Mrs. Wooly?”

“Please, Niko, please? I’m so tired,” Max complained.

“What are you tired from?” I snapped. “You’re getting pushed in a stroller!”

“Aargh. Okay, everyone, be quiet!” Niko said. His voice sounded cold coming through the transmitter in the air mask.

“Mrs. Wooly’s going to come down this road we’re on,” he said.

“What will she be driving?” Max asked.

“A van.”

“What kind of van?”

“Oh my God … She’ll be driving a … a Kia Sportvan.”

“Red?” asked Max. “With a sunroof?”

“Red, with a sunroof. And she’ll say, ‘I was just going to get you at Mr. Scietto’s house. I knew he was taking care of you there while I got this van.’”

“How’d she get the van, anyway?” Max asked.

“Well, that’s the reason she’s taken so long.”

“What do you mean?” Batiste asked.

“She had to earn the money to buy the van.”

“What’s she been doing, then?” Max asked.

“I don’t know,” Niko said.

He had to push the stroller up over a little hill and the soggy ground was giving him trouble.

“Maybe she’s been stealing it from people,” Max said.

“Or maybe she dug a pit and trapped some people,” Batiste added.

“Ugh, never mind,” Niko snapped.

There was quiet for a while.

And I just thought, step, step, step.

“How much farther?” Batiste or Max or Ulysses would ask.

“Awhile,” Niko would answer.

That happened about 20 times.

Step, step, step.

Ulysses started crying softly.

It wasn’t a cry like he was asking for attention. Just pure misery.

And suddenly Sahalia’s voice rang out.

She has a good voice, kind of high and gravelly, like a punk-rock girl.

I think it was a rock song, but it was a little hard to tell, just her voice alone on the wind.

These were the words:

Well, now I sat

on the floor of that pub.

That dirty floor

is where I sat.

And my old friend

came to my side.

And he knelt down

where I was at.

She’s gone and left,

I cried out loud.

I guess I’m just

a hopeless case.

And so my friend,

he cursed her name.

And then he slapped

me on the face.

He said: Get up, get up, get up, m’boy.

Get up now, lad, get up!

She’s gone for good, I heard you say.

But you’ll not die today, today.

No, you’ll not die today.

He walked me out,

onto the street.

The icy air,

it burned my throat.

I said let me grieve.

He laughed at that.

Then he grabbed

me by the coat.

And he proclaimed:

The pain is good,

the pain will burn

and make you strong.

But needless sufferin’,

that’s for the weak.

And then he made

me sing his song.

I said: Get up, get up, get up. I will!

Get up now, I’ll get up!

She’s gone for good, I’m sad to say.

But I’ll not die today, today.

No, I’ll not die today.

She repeated the chorus and I sang with her and so did a couple of the others. We sang softly so our voices didn’t carry very far in the black air—I don’t think.

It was a catchy song. Kind of uplifting, and at the same time sad.

Sahalia seemed to have a talent for picking the right songs for the right moments. That’s something I could never do.

I thought about that for a while as we walked. I thought about Sahalia. She had changed a lot since I had known her. A lot of change, it seemed to me, in a short amount of time. Maybe I had changed, too. That was certainly possible. But I liked this Sahalia much better than I had liked the old one.

“How much farther?” Max or Batiste or Ulysses would still ask every so often.

“Awhile,” Niko would still say.

After that happened, like, maybe 50 more times, Sahalia hissed, “Niko.”

“What?” he said.

“Behind us,” she whispered.

There was a little dot of light behind us. Maybe a quarter mile away.

Someone else was on the road.

“Keep an eye on them, okay?” Niko asked.

But then, maybe 10 minutes later, we saw another group of travelers ahead of us. They came off the highway and down to our road.

They had 3 flashlights and were shining them all around. Not very inconspicuous. Kind of stupid.

But they seemed to be moving quickly and soon they were quite a ways ahead of us.