Chapter 48

An eternity seemed to pass before a shadow darkened the open tent flap. Court tensed, little good it would do him. How could he hope to fight off anything? He was unarmed—he held an empty Thermos in his hands, and his radio was within reach, but neither of those would serve as much of a weapon. Under his breath, he muttered, “Damn it the hell.”

“What are you bitching about now?” It was Ronnie’s voice. The shadow took shape as Ronnie leaned into the tent, bringing with him a rush of cool air.

Relief coursed through Court, but anger followed hard on its heels. “Where’s Bree?”

“Hello to you, too.” Ronnie tossed something into Court’s lap. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Court looked down at the handful of Slim Jims Ronnie had given him. His mouth salivated at the thought of meat—maybe not fresh, but something other than soup or beans. His hands shook as he tore into the first package. “Where’d you find these?”

“At the 7-11. Where else?”