deep breath and blew it out, scattering the words into tiny white random grains.
It didn't seem to like that, and sucked itself up into a pile, then flattened out again. A moving finger wrote one word: Good.
It then made a little white smiley-face that immediately blew into randomized scatter as a waitress marched up, tsked the mess, and wiped the spill up with a damp cloth.
"You okay?" I must have had a bizarre look; she was staring at me.
"I'm talking to salt," I said numbly. "What do you think?"
She shrugged and kept on wiping up. "Missy, I think you should've probably gone with the decaf."
THREE
The National Weather Service has issued a severe weather advisory for a four-state area including Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. Hail, severe winds, and tornadic activity are possible. Please stay tuned to your local weather sources for more information.
Twenty-five miles down the road, there was a battered, shotgun-riddled sign for Iron Road. I slowed down and coasted to a stop at the side of the road, looking down the turn-off and wondering what exactly a smarter, saner person than me would do.
Chapter Twelve
I inspected the place while my blinker clicked. Iron Road was a small two-lane affair that disappeared into some dense, overhanging trees, dappled with sunlight and shadow. Picturesque, which was another word for isolated. Why would Lewis want me off the beaten path? Why wouldn't he just show up in the diner and, say, order an eggs Benedict and chat about the good old days? Well, of course, he had reason to be careful, too. Lewis was, in many ways, the most wanted Warden in the world. In comparison, I hadn't even made the top ten.
"What the fuck," I said to Delilah, and eased her back into gear as I turned the wheel. She purred effortlessly down the hill onto Iron Road, into green shadow and smooth, deserted blacktop. I kept the speed down. On a rural road like this, anything was likely to jump out and present a road hazard, especially wildlife and farm animals. The last thing I needed was to end up picking cow out of my grille while a storm rolled up on me.
Fields stretched beyond the trees, sundrenched and extravagantly green. I rolled down the window and breathed in cool, clear air spiced with earth and new leaves. Lewis hadn't said how far to proceed down Iron Road; I could only guess there'd be another sign.
At the crest of the next hill, I saw a neat red farmhouse with a matching barn behind, the kind of thing people paint for craft fairs; I'd never really seen one that, well, perfect before. It even had a windmill and some paintworthy Hereford cows chewing cud in the fields, ringed with a tumbledown rock fence and a riot of new wildflowers in neon purple and buttercup yellow. Perfect Thomas Kinkade. Wind rippled the grass in long velvet waves, and I remembered one of my instructors-who knows which one-remarking how similar the seas of water and air were to each other. We swim in an ocean of air. Come to think of it, that probably wasn't a weather class. It sounded like English lit to me now.
Iron Road didn't change names, but it should have; after the pretty little farm, it turned into Dirt Road, rutted and uneven. I slowed Delilah to a crawl and fretted about the state of her suspension. Nothing up ahead that I could see except a hill looming green and tan, more trees stretching out their arms over the road.
Delilah slowed down more, without my foot pressing the brake.
It's funny how you can just know these things, if you're true partners with your car. I could feel, as if it were my feet instead of Delilah's tires on the road, that something had gone wrong. Badly. It felt as if we were driving through deep mud, but the road was dry, the ruts hard-caked and laced with brittle tire treads. What was slowing us down?
I heard something hissing against the undercarriage of the car. I knew that sound. It sounded like ...
Delilah shuddered, and I heard her engine take on a plaintive, unhappy tone. She was struggling to move, but it was getting harder, and harder, with every rotation of the wheels.
It sounded like loose sand.
The road was turning to sand, and we were sinking into it.
"Shit!"