Jesse steps back into the room, face and hands scorched. Edgar tries to push past, but he wrestles him to the floor and kicks the door closed. Edgar’s panting, sweating, blubbering. Good. Jesse wants him to suffer. He wants him to wake up, reach for Abby, and have her not be there. He wants him to know loss, the only wound that scars a rover.

He holds his brother down until he stops thrashing, then says, “If you ever speak of Johona again, I’ll dust you. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Edgar says.

“Now, finish cleaning up.”

Edgar carries the soiled sheets to the bathroom. Jesse stands over him, giving instructions. Fill the tub. Pour in shampoo. Squeeze the sheets and swish them. When the bedding has been hung on the towel rod to dry, Jesse lets Edgar shower. He brings in britches and undershorts and leaves them next to the tub and flips the mattress himself.

Edgar comes out and lies on the bed without a word. Jesse sits at the table and plays Klondike.

There’s a knock at the door. Sanders. If he saw what happened to Abby, he doesn’t say anything. He goes into the bathroom, comes out a few minutes later, and says, “Doing laundry?”

“My brother wet the bed,” Jesse says.

Sanders takes a bag of potato chips out of his food box. “You want some of these?”

“No, thank you.”

“I believe I’ll lie down.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jesse plays cards through the rest of the afternoon. When he feels the sun set, it’s like coming up for air after being underwater. Edgar is asleep, and Sanders is back at his Bible.

“Get me one of your ice picks,” Jesse says to him.

Sanders pulls a pick from his duffel and hands it over.

“I’m going out to talk to Beaumont,” Jesse says. “You’re coming with me.”

Sanders puts his Bible away. He and Jesse walk out to the truck. It’s barely dusk, but already rockets are booming and crackling.

“I never could wait either,” Sanders says. “The Fourth, man, that was a big one.”

Jesse gives him the keys and has him unlock the camper. The air inside is hot and rank. Beaumont glares up at them when Sanders opens the crate. His face glistens with sweat. Jesse sticks the point of the ice pick into his ear.

“I’m only asking once,” he says. “Where are the Fiends?”

He slips the bandana Sanders gagged the man with off Beaumont’s mouth. “A motel on the road to Lake Mead,” Beaumont says. He licks his lips and swallows hard. “I need water. Please.”

Sanders points to a jug on the counter.

“Not yet,” Jesse says. He pushes the pick in deeper, tickling Beaumont’s eardrum. “Where on the road? How far out?”

“I’m not certain, but I know it by sight,” Beaumont says. “I’ll take you there.”