America was huge: thousands of towns and millions of people. If he was careful and quiet there was no reason he couldn’t get away with this. For just a second he felt free and hopeful, and then he saw Willow from a distance. He sped up. She stepped out into the road and waved, goofy-happy at first and then big panicked sweeps of her arms—Don’t you see me, what’re you doing? She didn’t have enough time to draw her gun. He tried to hug the right side of the dirt road, but she angled herself in his path. He didn’t slow the car as he neared her, but he did try to swerve so he wouldn’t hit her. It didn’t seem like there was enough room, but just before contact, she jumped out of the way, and he swung all the way to the left of the path. Then, before he crashed into a tree he swung back onto the path and hit a log, then another, and spun off the road and into a rut off to the side. Why were there logs in the middle of the path—big ones? They hadn’t been there on the way in.
