Cause its one, two, three strikes youre out

Of the ball game!

When the tank is half full, they stop at each gas station until they find one where the pumps are still working. She likes the smell of the fuel burning her nostrils.

On a narrow, two-lane road, they encounter a station wagon going in the opposite direction. A hand from the drivers window waves them down and the two cars pull up next to each other in the road, their noses inverted. Temple keeps a hand on her pistol and rolls down her window. Its an older man and a younger man in the front seat, and in the back seat two women and a girl. The girl looks at her over the tops of the seats, her thumb in her mouth and a sooty-faced doll choked under her arm.

The family is coming from Lafayette, headed through Baton Rouge to Slidell heard there was a redoubt there, and it was getting tough where they are coming from.

The girls eyes, sleepy and hypnotic, meet Temples and for a moment they are locked.

Listen, the driver says, leaning closer to Temple through the window and lowering his voice. You have any shotgun ammo? Weve only got a handful of shells left.

What kind? Temple asks.

Twelve gauge.

All we gots twenty.

Oh.

Hey, your girl like bingberries?

Shes never had any.

Here, says Temple, handing the remaining quarter tub of berries through the window. Fresh picked a couple days ago.

We sure do appreciate it, the man says, taking the tub. Shes never had very much to cherish.

Its nothin. I had my fill and this dummy of mine dont even like em. But make sure she dont eat em all at once, theyll give her the runs.

Where you headed?

West.

He tells her she should take Levee Road north to the 190 instead of staying on this road. Its a few miles out of your way, he says, but its safer. We just came across the Atchafalaya. Theres something on the other side. Some kind of town. You dont want to go through there unless youve got no other choice. We saw some things.

What things? Slugs?

I dont know what they were, the man says. Big is all I know. I wasnt inclined to slow down and get a closer look.

She thanks him and looks again at the girl in the back seat, the tangle of blonde hair on her doll.

All right then, I guess well be going, the man says. Its a beautiful day for a drive. Beautiful day.

The cars pull away from each other, and she can see the station wagon receding in the rear-view mirror, stretching taut the mirror of her own journey, like going back in time as though hours were roads with two directions.