Fatigue was setting in. He was tempted to find some soft ground and cover and get some sleep. But he feared what might lurk in the jungle. Coyotes or dogs or who knew what else. And the bugs. His mind wandered as he kicked along. He actually thought about the movie The Road, inevitable given his predicament. A father and son traveling a postapocalyptic highway, exhausted and in search of shelter and food. Matt didn’t care much for the film, but his dad, in a clumsy effort to bond, had invited him to see it. Evan Pine wasn’t a movie guy, but he was a reader, and the film was based on one of his favorite novels. Matt remembered Dad trying to conceal the tear that rolled down his cheek at the pivotal scene, the dying father’s words to his son. You have my whole heart. You always did. Sitting in that dark theater, Matt knew that his father was thinking of Danny.

Headlights burned behind him. Matt turned, and down the long stretch of road he saw what looked like a pickup truck. He considered hiding in the brush, but he was so damn tired. The truck drew closer, the sound of its rattling muffler filling the air. He fast-walked to the side of the road, stretched out his arm, and stuck out his thumb. Is that how you hitchhiked in Mexico? As the truck puttered by, Matt met eyes with a kid, about ten or so, who watched him out the passenger window. Matt dropped his arm, defeated. But then red taillights lit up the night, and the truck pulled to a stop.

Matt jogged over. He peered inside the cabin. Next to the boy was an old man, the kid’s dad—no, grandfather probably. The gray-haired man looked warily at Matt.

Where should he have them take him? “Ah, hotel,” Matt said, too slowly and too loudly, as if that would break through the language barrier.

The old man looked to the kid, and the boy said something to the man in Spanish. The only words Matt could make out were zona hotelera. The old man replied to the kid in Spanish.

The kid then turned back to Matt, nodded, and gestured for Matt to get in the back.

“Gracias,” Matt said, and climbed into the bed of the pickup. It was empty except for a rucksack and piles of rakes with what looked like seaweed strung through their teeth.

Matt felt the cool metal on his back as he stared up at the sky. The truck accelerated and wind whooshed overhead. The white noise, staring at the incandescent stars and the treetops blurring by, was hypnotic.