Christopher picked me up to put me in the truck’s front seat, and Jude turned on the heat so our drenched clothes could dry out faster. She reached past me to hand her cell phone to Christopher as he settled in the back seat behind us. They spoke to one another; I heard the words, but with no sense of inflection and tone, and could only grasp their meaning dimly, as if through a dream. “Call Aggie.” “Your batteries are dead.” Then everything jumbled together in my senses: air from the heat vents blasting against my face, the heavy scent of wet sneakers, and the engine rumbling. The world faded like a picture on a shaken Etch-a-Sketch, and I welcomed it, my mind clutching gratefully at what shelter it could find in a cocoon of plastic, glass, and metal. My eyes dropped shut; I drifted, and thought of nothing at all. Minutes later, three more words of Jude’s dragged me back into consciousness. “We’re being followed.” Alarm stirred sluggishly within me, and as I heard Christopher swear, I fought to sit up and look around.
