There was a shuffling noise in one of the shelters. Danny jumped. He lifted his rake and held it over his shouder, like a bat. Ralph crawled out of the small entryway on his hands and knees, blinking into the light, his pants smeared with guano and feathers in his hair.

“What happened?” Danny asked.

Ralph shrugged. A dark line had swung its way across his cheek, and his lid was swollen and faintly blue. He touched the eye delicately with his fingertips, as if he were measuring it.

Danny offered his bandanna, then sneezed and took it back. The boys stood silently for a moment, watching the turkeys enjoy the spring weather. The birds gobbled. They strutted. They stretched their soon-to-be drumsticks.

“When do you want to go?” Ralph asked.

The boys left before dawn. The roads were empty and the pavement was wet with dew. Danny could feel the money he’d stolen from his mother’s purse in his pocket. When he got close to the gas station, he saw Ralph standing out front with a flashlight, a yellow slicker with the hood pulled up and a pair of goggles strapped to his forehead.

Together the boys rolled Mr. Kurtz’s old Chevy into the street. Ralph held on to the steering wheel through the driver’s window, and Danny pushed from behind. They continued like this until they reached the crossroads, where they pulled the car onto the grass and waited. They kept their eyes on the field, and before long they saw Joey coming through it. He was carrying a blanket and a lunch box.

For days they lived on peanut butter sandwiches. They braked at truck stops to piss and drink coffee. Along the way, Joey taught Danny and Ralph how to drive, swerving along back roads, stalling at intersections, grinding the gears. They found a Salvation Army and took showers. They ate bag after bag of marshmallows. They told one another jokes, stories, tricks they’d learned as kids, and things about their lives they never knew or thought they’d say to anybody, just from the sheer boredom of the hours.

The tire went near Amarillo. It was a beautiful explosion. The Chevy shimmied across the road as if a ghost had suddenly taken hold of it. Joey hit the brakes and the car bucked, then ground to a halt, the remaining rubber flapping against the pavement. Outside, the earth was a deep red color, touched with bits of scraggly shrubs scattered across the infinite space like a flock of desolate birds. The windows were covered with dust and the road went straight on to the horizon.