He went in the restroom and set up everything on the sink. The coat he threw in the garbage. He pulled off the bloody thermal. His shoulder pulsing. The wound was still bleeding and had turned purple and black. He twisted the faucet and wet a paper towel and unscrewed the lid on the hydrogen peroxide. He poured it onto the paper towel and wiped away the blood. The wound burning like fire. After drying the gash, he opened the glue with his teeth and squeezed it over the wound and pinched the edges shut between his fingers while he counted to ten. It held.

He put on the T-shirt and washed his face and hands. He did all of this quickly. He took no great care. In the mirror he saw himself. The shirt showed an illustration of Sasquatch walking in the woods. Below the scene were the words Never Stop Searching.

When he reentered the store, Ava was standing at the counter. He went down the aisle toward her and picked up a little package of powdered dougnuts and a bottle of Coke. He looked for ibuprofen but didn’t find any. A game show played on the small television hanging from the wall. The clerk was ringing up Ava. Jack looked out the window and saw a state trooper creep into view and come to a stop at the gas pump.

“Where you kids headin’?”

“What?”

“Well, I see you’re just in that car.”

Jack put down his things on the counter. He glanced at Ava. She was looking out the window, and then she looked at Jack.

“We got a cold front on the way, is all,” the clerk said. “You kids don’t seem too ready for what’s comin’.”

“We’re just passing through,” Jack said.

“Wrong time-a year for a trip, if you don’t mind me sayin’. With most of the roads closed and all. You know? It’s just you and the animals.”

Jack looked out at the gas pumps. The trooper sitting there. His shoulder hurt.

Could he see the briefcase in the passenger seat?

The clerk went on.

“Well, the bears are hybernatin’. But there’s moose—they’re real dangerous—and then there’s wolves, cougars. Where you goin’ exactly?”

“How much are these?” Jack asked.

“A dollar forty-nine, and the soda’s two. You got a place out this way?”

“Why do you keep asking?”

The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, you got no coat, is all. You gotta have good protection out here.” He glanced at an oilskin coat hanging on a hook behind the counter. The clerk’s own, Jack presumed.

Jack shifted uneasily.

“We’d like a big order of fries too,” Ava said.