“Whoever lived here was obviously an outdoorsman,” said Samm, glancing around at the dirt bikes and camping trailers lying near the immovable boat. “He might have something smaller in his garage.”

“Or her garage,” said Kira, immediately regretting the tone of petulance in her voice. You can be mad at him without being an idiot, Kira. She focused on the problem at hand, looking at the truck’s tires again, wondering how far it would get if she tried to start it: The tires were flat, and the gas in the tank was twelve years old, so if it started at all, it wouldn’t get far. To the end of the street? The end of the driveway? They were only a block from the south fork of the highway river; if they could just get that far, they could dump it in and row it the rest of the way. She tried the door to the house, supposing that if the owners were home when they died, the keys to the truck might be inside. The door was locked, and she pulled her pistol to shoot off the lock when suddenly Samm emerged from the garage, loudly banging a small metal rowboat against the door frame.

“There are oars inside,” he said, nodding back toward the garage.

“It’s kind of small.”

“It’s the best I could find,” said Samm, “I’m only a Partial.” There was no vitriol in his voice as he said it, because there never was, but Kira felt a small surge of anger that could have come from the link—or it could have come from her own raging mind. Whether she felt it or not, he was clearly still thinking about their argument, and the revelation gave her a joint thrill of anger and triumph. She forced herself to keep a cool expression and went inside to get the oars.

By the time they made it back to the highway junction, first rowing and then carrying the boat up the small incline, Heron and Afa were standing alone. “I tied up the horses in the train yard,” said Heron.

“She made me get off my horse,” said Afa. “I hate that horse.”

“You should be glad to be rid of it, then,” said Kira. She looked at Heron pointedly. “They’re safe?”

“I gave yours a gun just in case.”

“Perfect,” said Kira. “Ready to go?”

Heron glanced at Samm, then back at Kira, calculating silently. “What happened between you two?”

“Nothing,” said Samm. Heron raised an eyebrow.

They slipped the boat back into the water, helping Afa in and positioning him carefully in the center. The boat sank lower under his weight, but it held, and he clutched his backpack tightly to his chest. “We need a bigger boat. I brought all our nacho sauce.”