But on the road at night, you start thinking ugly, alone thoughts. She remembers, it must have been five years ago, driving through Alabama with Malcolm in the seat beside her. She was very young then, she must have been, because she remembers having to push the seat all the way forward, and even then she had to sit on the edge in order to reach the pedals. And Malcolm was younger still.

Malcolm was quiet for a long time. He liked to chew that gum that was too sweet for her, and he liked to put two pieces in his mouth at once. For a while she could hear him chewing next to her, then it was silent, and he was just looking out the window at the big black nothing.

What happened to Uncle Jackson? Malcolm said.

Hes gone, she said. We aint going to see him no more.

He said he was gonna teach me how to shoot.

Ill teach you. He wasnt your real uncle anyway.

To get the memory out of her head, she rolls down the window and lets the wind play in her hair. When that doesnt work, she decides to sing a ditty she once knew by heart and it takes her a while to remember all the parts of it.

Oh, mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey,

Yes, mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey,

A kiddley divey doo, wouldnt you?

A kiddley divey doo, wouldnt you?

Its on a long stretch of country road that the car dies, and she pulls over and pops the hood to look. Its probably the fuel pump, but she cant be sure without getting under the car and poking around, and the engines too hot to do anything for a while. She doesnt have any tools to poke around with but she can see a house set back away from the road down a little dirt drive, and there might be tools there.

She looks into the dark horizon towards the city lights. Distance is difficult to determine at night; its possible she could walk it by morning.

Still, that house. It might contain something worthwhile.

Shes been out of the game for a long time now and shes feeling bold and anyway, she wants something to distract her from her night memories. So she straps the gurkha knife to her thigh, jams the pistol in the waistband of her pants two rounds, emergency use only and takes the flashlight and walks up the packed-dirt driveway to the house. Shes ready to kick the door in except she doesnt have to because its standing open.

Theres a stink in the house, and she recognizes it. Flesh mould. Could be corpse or could be slug. Either way, she tells herself to breathe through her mouth and make it quick.