van now, since the signal can only be picked up within that distance.
Rat signals which road to take, pointing down Adler, and I swerve down onto the hard-baked path. Striker and Rat follow.
Fury with the little thief for running off burns in my chest, but it’s a satisfying sort of burn, the kind that calls to the darkness in me. It shuts down those annoying protective impulses she calls up in me, and wakes the slumbering monster that feeds off her fear. The monster who will kill the shit who’s driving that van, and who will deliver the punishment she deserves for her mistake.
The monster in me doesn’t care if she saved Cap, it doesn’t care if I turned back the clock on the connection forged between us in the last week and hurt her, pushing her to run. He is ravenous for the pain he’s been denied in this last week, and I will feed him.
I will feed him her anguish, and he will feast.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur of bone dry sand and glaring sun. Still no sign of the van, but now and again, I see tracks left behind by the tires. It’s the only set of tire tracks out here.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Rat signaling for me to stop.
I wheel around in front of him, the bike spitting up road dust. I kill the engine.
Rat and Striker pull up in front of me and turn off their own rides. Rat lifts his goggles onto the top of his head, phone in his hand.
“What’s the problem?” I growl.
“Signal’s gone,” Rat says, casting a confused look at the barren, dusty landscape around him.
“What?”
“Yeah. I lost the blip a few seconds ago.” He shakes his head.
“How does that happen? She’s not going to toss her shoes out here.”
It’s closing in on five, and the temperature must be over a hundred out here. It won’t drop for a few hours. She wouldn’t be able to walk without burning her feet. And besides, she wouldn’t have had that guy drop her off now. There’s nothing out here. No place to get food or water for miles around. It could be hours before she comes across another vehicle.
“No, I know.” Rat squints at the skyline behind me. “The only reason I’d lose the signal is if they went that way.”
I look at where he’s pointing. Far up the road, scattered sandstone peaks, rock walls, and huge red clay mounds dot the uneven landscape. There’s a road cutting through them.
“There’s a lot of caves and tall rock formations up there. They would block the signal.”
“Why the fuck would they go up there?” I throw a glance over my shoulder at the rocks. “There’s nothing up there except Red Rock, and that café’s been closed for years.”
Rat gives a helpless shrug.
“Maybe he’s from out of town and thinks the café is still open,” Striker says. “Half the places that are supposed to be closed around here still say they’re open online. He might be going there for a pit stop.”
“If he is, as soon as he sees that it’s closed, he’ll either come back this way, or he’ll keep going to the next town.” Rat puts his goggles back down over his eyes and waits expectantly.
I nod. “At which point, Emma could end up hitching a new ride.” And if she does that, I’ll have no way of knowing where she is or who she’s with. Except for the signal, which could give out at any time with all those rocks. “Let’s go.”
We ride on for another forty minutes. The path that the van took is uneven and craggy, and sometimes the sand sends our wheels spinning, slowing us down. The signal gives out several times.
At last, we top a hill that looks out over a large stretch of land. The road we’re on is the only one leading across it, and there are large rock formations jutting up everywhere.
Set back from the road by a small parking lot, the sprawling single-story café looks almost out of place, the only sign of habitation in an otherwise desolate stretch of desert. We’re too far away to see if it’s closed, but I can see that the lot is empty.
Still, I’m not taking any chances. We take the road, driving toward the café, and I scan the area for signs of life. I don’t see anyone on the property, and there are no vehicles in sight.