“Camping and fishing gear, mostly.” Kittridge replied. “But they give a nice discount. So what do you say? We’re all on the same team here, April.”
“What team’s that?”
He shrugged. “The human one, I’d say.”
The girl was weighing him with her eyes. A cautious one, this April. Kittridge reminded himself that she wasn’t just a girl; she was a survivor. Whatever else was true, she deserved to be taken seriously. A few seconds passed, then she lowered the hammer.
“What’s in the stadium?” Tim asked.
“Nothing you want to see.” Kittridge looked at the girl again. She seemed like an April, he decided. Funny how it sometimes worked that way. “How’d you all get by?”
“We were hiding in the wine cellar.”
“What about your folks?”
“We don’t know. They were in Telluride.”
Jesus, Kittridge thought. Telluride was ground zero, the place where everything had started.
“Well, that was smart. Good thinking.” He gestured toward Danny again. He was standing ten feet off to the side with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. “What about your friend?”
“Danny was the one who found us. We heard him honking.”
“Well, good for you, Danny. I’d say that makes you the hero of the day.”
The man gave Kittridge a darting, sidelong glance. His face bore no expression at all. “Okay.”
“Why can’t I see what’s in the stadium?” Tim cut in again.
A look passed between April and Kittridge: Not a good idea.
“Never mind about the stadium,” April said. She returned her attention to Kittridge. “Have you seen anybody else?”
“Not for a while. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“Probably it’s wisest if we assume we’re alone.”
Kittridge could see where this was all headed. An hour ago he’d been riding down the side of a building, fleeing for his life. Now he was facing the prospect of looking after two kids and a man who couldn’t even meet his eye. But the situation was what it was.
“That your bus, Danny?” he said.
The man nodded. “I drive the blue route. Number twelve.”
A smaller vehicle would have made more sense, but Kittridge had the feeling the man wouldn’t be leaving without it. “Feel like maybe driving us out of here?”
The girl’s expression hardened. “What makes you think you’re coming with us?”
Kittridge was taken aback; he hadn’t considered the possibility that the three of them wouldn’t want his help.
“Actually, nothing, you put it that way. I guess you’d have to invite me.”
“Why can’t I see?” Tim whined.
April rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Tim, just shut up about the stadium, will you?”
“You said the F word! I’m telling!”
“And who are you going to tell?”
The boy was suddenly on the verge of tears. “Don’t say that!”
“Listen,” Kittridge cut in, “this really isn’t the time. By my count we’ve got eight hours of daylight left. I don’t think we want to be anywhere near here after dark.”
Which was when the boy, sensing his opening, spun on his heels and bolted up the ramp.
“Shit,” Kittridge said. “Both of you stay here.”
He took off at a hobbling run, but with his leg, he was in no condition to close the gap; by the time Kittridge caught up to the boy, he was standing in the open mouth of one of the gates, staring dumbly at the field. Just a few seconds, but it was enough. Kittridge snatched him from behind and hoisted him to his chest. The boy went limp, collapsing against him. He made no sound at all. Jesus, Kittridge thought. Why had he let the kid get the jump on him like that?
By the time he reached the base of the ramp, Tim had begun making a sound that was half hiccup, half whimper. Kittridge lowered him to the ground in front of April.
“What do you think you were doing?” Her voice was thick with angry tears.
“I’m … s-sorry,” the boy stammered.
“You can’t go running off like that, you can’t.” She shook him by the arms, then pulled him into a desperate hug. “I’ve told you a thousand times, you stay with me.”
Kittridge had moved to where Danny was standing, gazing at the ground with his hands in his pockets.
“They were really all alone?” he asked quietly.
“Consuela was with them,” Danny stated. “But she left.”
“Who’s Consuela?”
He gave a loose-limbed shrug. “She waits with Tim at the bus sometimes.”
There wasn’t much else to say on the subject. Maybe Danny wasn’t all there, but he’d rescued two helpless kids whose parents were almost