“So, where’s the fallen tree you remember seeing, Q?” Nate said.
“There it is, just about two car-lengths into the woods.”
Quentin parked the car and pulled the emergency brake but he left the motor running, and the headlights on.
“Okay, babe. We need to pull as much of that dead tree as we can across the ruts.”
“It’s not much of a tree, is it, Q?”
“I think it was a young pine tree that died, or got struck by lightning, or something—who knows? In any case, there are enough branches left on the tree to discourage our guys from driving over it.”
It took a great deal of effort, but they finally got the bulk of the tree pulled squarely across the ruts.
Quentin stood looking at their handiwork. “That’ll do, I think.”
“Yeah. What now, Holmes?”
“Now, we back the car across the road and park in the same spot we did before.”
“And then?”
“We wait.”
“My favorite thing—not.”
16
Jacksonville, FLFriday night