“Hold on to me,” he whispered to Matty, whose head stayed buried, who didn’t answer. “We have to run.”

In the distance, a siren wailed. He could hear shouting. Bev’s screams. “Jack! Please—Jack! Stop!”

He kept running. He took a side street toward the motel. Holding on to Matty by the knees. Don’t fall. Hold him tight. “Don’t look back.”

Halfway to the motel they came to the iron bridge, and Jack was starting to gasp. He hardly had breath. At the sound of tires crunching on snow he obeyed an instinct he didn’t know he had and dropped down off the street and onto the riverbank. He listened for the truck, but there was nothing. Even the siren had stopped. He stumbled for a few hundred yards, and the snow was deep. Finally he sank to his knees and pried Matty away from his body. Put him down in the snow. Shoved the envelope into his coat. The whole world pulsed slowly. Matty wouldn’t walk. He was shivering, and Jack sat. Pulled him close. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll just rest for a minute.”

When they got to the intersection next to the motel, Jack stopped to watch the traffic before stepping off the curb and limping out into the road. Matty wanted to be carried, so that’s what Jack did. He went along the side of the motel, keeping to the wall, doing his best to hurry. His eyes darted over the parking lot. Nothing. Outside their motel room, he took the key from Matty’s pocket and slid it into the lock. He closed the door behind them and immediately locked it. He laid Matty on the bed, pulled off his coat and hat, and wrapped him in the blankets. Then he peeled off his own wet things. His shirt was spotted with blood. He went into the bathroom and got a towel and blotted at his side. The bandage was wet. He couldn’t get his body to stop shaking. Vague thoughts. Baths will have to wait. How will you listen for cars with the faucet running? How can you be sure he’s safe in the other room? So far away? He put on a new shirt and went to the bed, where Matty lay slumped against the headboard.

“Talk to me,” Jack said.

Matty looked at him. Face empty.

“Are you hurt?”

Matty shook his head. Then he started to cry.

Jack sat by him. The death of Red hung over the room like vapor. These men would go further and further. They would never stop—never.