“That we heard there was a juke joint in Freeman and decided to go looking for it.”
“There’s nothing in Freeman but corn. About nine billion acres of it.”
“We don’t know that,” Dan said mildly. “We’re just passing through. Besides, no cop’s going to stop us, John. Nobody’s even going to notice us. But if you want to stay here—”
“I didn’t come halfway across the country to sit in a motel watching Jay Leno. Just let me use the toilet. I used mine before I left the room, but now I need to go again. Christ, am I nervous.”
The drive to Freeman seemed very long to Dan, but once they left Adair behind, they didn’t meet a single car. Farmers went to bed early, and they were off the trucking routes.
When they reached the ethanol plant, Dan doused the rental car’s lights, turned in to the service road, and rolled slowly up to the closed gate. The two men got out. John cursed when the Ford’s dome light came on. “I should have turned that thing off before we left the motel. Or smashed the bulb, if it doesn’t have a switch.”
“Relax,” Dan said. “There’s no one out here but us chickens.” Still, his heart was beating hard in his chest as they walked to the gate. If Abra was right, a little boy had been murdered and buried out here after being miserably tortured. If ever a place should be haunted—
John tried the gate, and when pushing didn’t work, he tried pulling. “Nothing. What now? Climb, I guess. I’m willing to try, but I’ll probably break my fucking—”
“Wait.” Dan took a penlight from his jacket pocket and shone it on the gate, first noting the broken padlock, then the heavy twists of wire above and below it. He went back to the car, and it was his turn to wince when the trunk light came on. Well, shit. You couldn’t think of everything. He yanked out the new duffel, and slammed the trunk lid down. Dark returned.
“Here,” he told John, holding out a pair of gloves. “Put these on.” Dan put on his own, untwisted the wire, and hung both pieces in one of the chainlink diamonds for later reference. “Okay, let’s go.”
“I have to pee again.”
“Oh, man. Hold it.”
11
Dan drove the Hertz Ford slowly and carefully around to the loading dock. There were plenty of potholes, some deep, all hard to see with the headlights off. The last thing in the world he wanted was to drop the Focus into one and smash an axle. Behind the plant, the surface was a mixture of bare earth and crumbling asphalt. Fifty feet away was another chainlink fence, and beyond that, endless leagues of corn. The dock area wasn’t as big as the parking lot, but it was plenty big.
“Dan? How will we know where—”
“Be quiet.” Dan bent his head until his brow touched the steering wheel and closed his eyes.
(Abra)
Nothing. She was asleep, of course. Back in Anniston it was already Wednesday morning. John sat beside him, chewing his lips.
(Abra)
A faint stirring. It could have been his imagination. Dan hoped it was more.
(ABRA!)
Eyes opened in his head. There was a moment of disorientation, a kind of double vision, and then Abra was looking with him. The loading dock and the crumbled remains of the smokestacks were suddenly clearer, even though there was only starlight to see by.
Her vision’s a hell of a lot better than mine.
Dan got out of the car. So did John, but Dan barely noticed. He had ceded control to the girl who was now lying awake in her bed eleven hundred miles away. He felt like a human metal detector. Only it wasn’t metal that he—they—were looking for.
(walk over to that concrete thing)
Dan walked to the loading dock and stood with his back to it.
(now start going back and forth)
A pause as she hunted for a way to clarify what she wanted.
(like on CSI)
He coursed fifty feet or so to the left, then turned right, moving out from the dock on opposing diagonals. John had gotten the spade out of the duffel bag and stood by the rental car, watching.
(here is where they parked their RVs)
Dan cut back left again, walking slowly, occasionally kicking a loose brick or chunk of concrete out of his way.
(you’re close)
Dan stopped. He smelled something unpleasant. A gassy whiff of decay.