He turned around, once more expecting to see Becky, but he saw only the grass. He flexed his knees and jumped. He could see the road (farther away than he expected; he must have run quite some distance without realizing it). He could see the church—Holy Hank’s House of Hallelujah, or whatever it was called—and he could see the Bowl-a-Drome, but that was all. He didn’t really expect to see Becky’s head—she was only five-two—but he did expect to see her route of passage through the grass. The wind was combing through it harder than ever, though, and that made it seem like there were dozens of possible paths.

He jumped again. Soggy ground squashed each time he came down. Those little licking peeks back at Highway 73 were maddening.

“Becky? Where the hell are you?”

⟵

Becky heard Cal bellow for the kid to stand still no matter how scared he was and let them come to him. Which sounded like a good plan, if only her idiot brother would let her catch up. She was winded, she was wet, and she was for the first time feeling truly pregnant. The good news was that Cal was close, on her right at one o’clock.

Fine, but my sneakers are going to be ruined. In fact, the Beckster believes they’re ruined already.

“Becky? Where the hell are you?”

Okay, this was strange. He was still on her right, but now he sounded closer to five o’clock. Like, almost behind her.

“Here,” she said. “And I’m going to stay here until you get to me.” She glanced down at her Android. “Cal, do you have any bars on your phone?”

“I don’t have any idea. It’s in the car. Just keep yakking until I get to you.”

“What about the kid? And the crazy mom? She’s gone totally dark.”

“Let’s get back together—then we’ll worry about them, okay?” he said. Becky knew her brother, and she didn’t like the way he sounded. This was Cal being worried and trying not to show it. “For now just talk to me.”

Becky considered, then began to recite, stamping her muddy sneakers in time. “There once was a guy named McSweeny, who spilled some gin on his weenie. Just to be couth, he added vermouth, then slipped his girl a martini.”

“Oh, that’s charming,” he said. Now directly behind her, almost close enough to reach out and touch, and why was that such a relief? It was only a field, for God’s sake.

“Hey, you guys!” The kid. Faint. Not laughing now, just sounding lost and terrified. “Are you looking for me? I’m scared!”

“YES! YES, OKAY! HANG ON,” her brother hollered. “Becky? Becky, keep talking.”