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“You couldn’t have read the ‘Warning: Elk Ahead’ sign!” I yelled.
“There was a freaking sign and you ignored it?” He stormed away, tearing at his hair.
“No, you idiot!” I shrieked. “There was no sign! I would have read the goddamn sign!”
“Don’t you call me an idiot!” he roared so loudly that his voice echoed back at us.
That was what it took to instantly shut us both up. Knowing that we were giving away our presence and position shocked us into silence.
At that point, I realized I was about to faint. There was a convenient boulder and I sank onto it, then put my head between my knees.
“Shit,” he said quietly.
78
I DIDN’T RESPOND.
I heard him walk away, but he’d left our packs by my feet, so I knew he planned to come back. My head started to clear but I felt awful—and even worse, was trying not to cry. I would have happily bled out right there before I let him see me cry.
His footsteps returned. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Mm,” I said, not looking up.
“This is the bottom of the mountain,” he said. “And you won’t believe what’s on the other side.”
I did glance up then, and on his face was a mixture of confusion, wonder, and fear. Not a good look.
Very slowly I stood up, relieved to find that my faintness had passed. Wordlessly he pointed past the rock wall. I walked past him, and it was as he said: the mountain ended abruptly, and on the other side was… desert.
I looked back at where we’d come from: mountain. Now we were suddenly at the edge of a desert. I stared at Tim. “Oh, my God, have we been heading west all this time?” I cried. “The deserty parts of the United are in the west, right?”
Double-checking, Tim looked up at the sun. “No, we’re definitely heading east. But there shouldn’t be a desert here, for damn sure.”
A desert. Surprise #428 of our list of surprises so far on this journey. Without another word, he retrieved our packs. I let him continue to carry mine, out of spite. With effort I hitched my rifle up onto my left shoulder, and we headed down the slight slope toward the desert. I looked around, shielding my eyes from the setting sun, and saw nothing but sand, a very few small plants, and some tumbleweeds that spun in the wind like someone was playing invisible soccer with them.
We had plenty of water—he was carrying it, and I smirked at the thought—but I wasn’t sure how smart it was to set off across a desert without knowing how wide it was or where it led. All I knew was that we were still headed east, the sun setting behind us. Then I saw some shadows on the sand. I traced the shadows and saw… two yellow arches? Poking up out of the sand, maybe eight feet high?
“What in the world are those?” I asked, pointing.
He’d already seen them. “No idea,” he said. “But—I’ve seen them before. I know I have.”
Now that I thought about it, they seemed familiar to me, too. Yellow arches. Two yellow arches…
He snapped his fingers. “They were on that little cardboard box, in one of the piles! Those arches were printed on the box!”
“Right, right,” I said, remembering. “It said… McDonald’s French Fries.” I looked at the buried arches again. “So this was his house, I guess. But—what made all this sand? Where did it come from?” I whirled to look at him. “Is this a beach? Have we gone so far east that we’re near the ocean?”
He frowned. “I don’t think so. Those old maps made the ocean look much, much farther away.”
“So basically we still have no freaking idea where we are,” I said.
“Basically,” he agreed, and I wanted to punch him.
79
BECCA
THE GUY HAD A—GET THIS—RED cloak draped around his shoulders. He was huge, well over six feet, but skinny and his back looked slightly bulky, as if he had a thin backpack on underneath. Without looking at me, he sat down in front of a big roll-top desk.
