They’d rushed from the plane into the truck, afraid of seeing the rest of Quincy’s security, which he hadn’t paid off or, even worse, government agents. But they’d gotten away without incident, hoping the truck allowed them to attempt to blend in with the farmers who could only drive by the fires and watch their livelihood burn.

“I can sense him,” William said. “But I don’t know where. Out there, somewhere. But we can’t just drive into that smoke—”

The pressure was suddenly so strong in his head that he doubled over. He covered his head, struggling to keep the dream from seizing control to draw him in.

“Fight it,” Jane said, her hand on his back.

After a few moments, he sat back, his face hurting from the strain. He felt Lily’s hand on his arm. He reached up and patted her hand.

“I’m OK.”

“Jesus, that’s what it feels like?” Quincy asked.

“It does now. It’s constantly trying to draw me in.”

“I don’t care what happens,” Jane said. “It’s the only way to block it—”

“I’m not putting you all at risk any more than I already have,” William said.

“If it can’t touch you when we’re connected, what harm is there if it can see us?” Jane was demanding now. “As long as we’re not in the dream and you’re controlling the communication, who cares if it’s blocked but knows we’ve connected? I’ll happily do it. And give it the middle finger in the process.”

“I do like her,” Quincy said, flicking his thumb towards her.

William looked back. As she had worn it since that first day in the hospital, Jane’s hair was pulled back in an efficient ponytail. Not a stitch of makeup allowed a scattering of freckles to show. Her eyes caught the light, showing gold and green among the brown.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he said, turning once again to the smoke. “Maybe it’s just holding back and now it can even penetrate our communications. Quincy, just look for a way to get in.”

They continued along, Quincy occasionally flooring the gas when it looked as if the smoke was about to conceal the road.

“Wait,” William said suddenly. “I feel him closer. He’s not far. He’s through there.”

“You mean through those miles and miles of black smoke? How are we supposed to get through that?”

Jane leaned forward. “Are you sure, William?”

He nodded once. “It’s almost like a scent. I know it’s him.”

“Quincy, stop the truck,” she said.

“What—”

“Just do it.”

As he hit the brakes, she opened her door and jumped out.

“Jane?” William asked.

He watched her scramble to the front of the truck, standing before the smoke.

Quincy tilted his head. “What is she doing?”