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plenty of wrecked cars with missing, injured, or dead occupants, many more had driven on. Several passed slowly by us, and Frank choked on the exhaust fumes.
    “Maybe it’s clearing up,” Charlie said.
    I nodded, doubtful.
    Charlie grabbed my arm. “Let’s go back and get the Caddy. There’s no sense walking anymore. Traffic’s moving.”
    “We’re not stealing a car,” I said. “That would make us no better than those kids ripping off that home electronics rig.”
    The driver of an ice delivery van was handing out his melting inventory for free to passersby. We stopped and got a bag, and sucked on ice cubes as we walked. It started to get dark about 6:30 p.m., and though the sun was still clinging to the horizon, the air grew chilly. More cars passed us, but nobody offered a ride. We saw other people walking, too.
    “Maybe we should have waited with our vehicles after all,” Frank said. “Charlie’s right. Looks like things are starting to move again.”
    I shook my head. “It’ll be hours—maybe even morning—before they get this mess sorted out. They’re moving, but I bet it gets blocked up again around the turn. I’m going on. If we can hitch a ride later on, then that’s all the better, but I’m not stealing a car.”
    Down in the valley, on the north side of the highway, a church burned. It looked deserted.
    Charlie asked, “I wonder if Stephanie ever found Britney?”
    “I doubt it,” Frank said. “I think there’s a lot of people who aren’t coming home tonight.”
    “Maybe not,” I said, “but I am.”
    Charlie and Frank stopped, and looked back the way we’d come.
    I thought about Terri, and how we’d parted that morning. It wasn’t bad, not at all. No fighting or arguing or anything. It just wasn’t—special. The same daily routine we’d both grown used to. The alarm went off at five. I got up. She hit snooze. I took a shower while she hit snooze two more times. Then I tickled her to get her moving. While she showered, I made a pot of coffee—always something good, Columbian or Kenyan, usually. We’d never been big breakfast eaters, so we sat in the living room and watched the news and drank our coffee. We didn’t say much. We never did. Neither one of us were what you’d call morning people, and conversation wasn’t first on our list until the caffeine kicked in. Then Hector pulled up out front and honked the horn. I gave Terri a quick kiss on the lips, and told her I loved her, and hurried for the door. She’d told me she loved me and that it was my turn to cook dinner when I got home, and then shut the door behind me. In a few minutes she’d start work as well. Luckily for Terri, she worked from our home.
    Typical suburban morning, and I’d gotten the chance to tell her I loved her. But I hadn’t really said it. I’d mouthed the words, and I’d meant them, of course, but that’s all they were—perfunctory words, just like the kiss and the coffee and the snooze button on the alarm clock. They were ritual. I needed to tell her from my heart, to say more than just “I love you.” I needed to hold her in my arms and make sure she understood me; that she knew I really meant it, and wasn’t just going through the motions. Needed her to know I was okay.
    Needed to know that she was okay.
    “Steve?” Charlie interrupted my thoughts. “What about Hector’s body? Are we doing the right thing, leaving him behind like that?”
    I turned. “Look, if you guys want to go back, I understand. But I’ve got to get home to Terri.”
    I kept walking. After a moment, they followed me.
    We reached the overpass for Thornton Mill Road by 8:00 p.m., and that was when things started to get worse. The interstate crossed over Western Run Creek. Darkness had fallen by then, throwing everything into shadow. As we tromped over the bridge, I heard the creek trickling below us, but couldn’t see it. The sound was eerie. Ghostly, as if the creek had vanished too and its spirit was