Chapter 210: Detour? I Hardly Know Her

DOVE’S POV

Dove turned the campground booklet around until the little drawing of the lake matched the road on Cal’s map. Unfortunately, the lake did not look nearly as inviting with smoke rising behind the service station.

She wanted that trip. She had packed snacks, left the cooler empty, and remembered to bring clean underwear. Going home without seeing anything would be deeply annoying, which was not quite a good enough reason to drive into a fire.

"Who came down this road today?" she asked, tapping the eastern turn.

Cal pointed toward a man loading cases into a flatbed. "He did. Says the surface held."

"That’s lovely for the surface. What about bridges, people with guns, and anything big enough to eat the truck?"

Edrik’s mouth curved against his mug. "Ask him. I’ll finish your sandwich."

She moved her plate behind Thorne. "Guard that with your life."

"I was hoping for a bite."

"Then guard most of it."

Cal brought the driver over while Thorne folded their chairs. The man spread his hands over the map. "Sign on the bend, bus at the end. Crawl past both and keep your friend." He tapped the bridge. "Water below, steady and slow."

Dove looked at Cal. "Is he doing that on purpose?"

"Unfortunately," Cal said. "But he drove it this morning." He had crossed the low bridge before noon. A diner beyond it still served food, and its owner rented space in a fenced parking lot.

Dove asked whether the campground turn came before or after that bridge. After, he said, with a grocery warehouse at the corner. She wrote those landmarks beside the line. A map had become much more useful once she could imagine what she was looking for.

"The fire could change direction," Cal reminded her.

"Then we check again at the diner. I’m interested in shopping, not being cremated with my purchases."

He carried the revised route to his other passengers. Dove stayed at the table, watching the dark smear above the trees. She could be sensible and still hate the choice. Apparently adulthood had survived the apocalypse just to be irritating.

Sprout brightened inside her head. "An alternate route may provide fresh opportunities."

"Can you tell whether the bridge is safe?"

"No, but I can record the useful locations you confirm."

"Excellent. You’re a notebook with opinions."

"A notebook would not remind you that you already own two unopened packs of cleaning cloths."

She looked down at the clearance shelf she had been considering. "That was one time."

"You are considering doing it again."

Dove walked away from the cloths. Fine, it had earned that one.

Before boarding, she used the service station bathroom and leaned toward its spotted mirror. A pale line showed beside the part in her honey-blonde hair. She moved another strand, then another. Her roots were growing out, and the color through the loose ends looked softer than she remembered.

She had gotten used to this face. That thought stopped her hand for a moment.

The blue eyes were hers to close now. The ears moved when someone knocked. She knew how to tuck her tail out of a doorway without thinking. Some mornings that felt like progress. Other mornings it felt as if her old life was getting harder to reach.

"Occupied," she called, then tied her hair back and let herself leave the mirror.

Thorne waited outside with her bag. He glanced at her face before touching her waist. "Everything all right?"

"My roots are showing, which seems rude when I have bigger problems."

"I like the white."

"You like everything attached to me. Your opinion may be a little spoiled."

He smiled, but his hand stayed still until she leaned into it. "Probably."

She pressed her cheek against his chest for a moment. He did not ask her to explain the rest. That helped more than she wanted to admit.

She went back for her packed cotton skirt and pale cropped shirt, then ducked into the bathroom to change. Her neck was damp already, and she refused to spend the whole trip cooking inside her clothes. Thorne’s eyes followed her when she came out. Edrik took one look and offered to reconsider their seating arrangement.

"I’m sitting where there’s a breeze," she told him. "Behave or you’re sitting with Cal."

Cal’s passengers agreed to the eastern loop. They loaded the repaired table, secured their bags, and climbed into the covered truck. Dove sat where she could see the road through the open side. Edrik stretched an arm behind her, his fingers brushing the back of her neck when the truck jolted.

The abandoned bus appeared exactly where the driver had said it would. Its windows were broken, and weeds stood waist-high along the ditch. Farther on, water glinted beneath the narrow bridge. Cal stopped before crossing while another driver walked back from the far end.

Waiting made Dove’s stomach tighten. She hated that she could make a careful choice and still have to sit there hoping.

Edrik held out the snack bag they had earned from the mug trade. "You are chewing the inside of your cheek. Try something better."

"You make that sound filthy on purpose."

"Only because it works."

She took a handful of pretzels and kept watching. Thorne’s knee rested against hers. Neither man told her she was being silly.

By late afternoon, the truck rolled into the diner’s fenced lot. The building had a faded red roof, a small grocery store attached on the left, and an outdoor sink beside the back entrance. Someone had swept broken glass into a neat pile near the fence. A working fan rattled inside the open diner door.

Dove climbed down and immediately smelled onions frying.

"I’m willing to hear what this place has to offer," she said.

Inside, booths lined the windows, and a chalkboard promised burgers until the meat ran out. Cal went to ask about the road. Thorne found a booth with an intact seat while Edrik checked the hallway leading to the bathrooms and back door.

Dove bought enough dinner for all three, then looked through the adjoining store. She ignored a shelf of warped plastic tubs and stopped at a notice pinned beside the register.

CAMPGROUND STORE CLOSING. FINAL COLLECTION TOMORROW. SEALED FOOD, CAMP EQUIPMENT, CABIN LINENS. ASK AT THE GATE.

She checked the date. It was current.

"Thorne," she called, already pulling out the booklet. "How attached are you to coming home with only the things we brought?"

He joined her, read the notice, and laughed quietly. "How much trouble are we looking at?"

Behind the counter, the owner heard them. "Keeper leaves tomorrow afternoon. Anything he can’t load goes cheap."

Dove looked at the campground marked on her map, twelve miles beyond the diner.

"How early can you get us there?" she asked Cal.

He read the notice, then checked the clock. "Before the other buyers, if you can get your husbands out of bed."

Dove looked at the two enormous men behind her. That sounded like a challenge she intended to enjoy.