“What if it don’t widen?”
“It’ll widen!”
Truth is I had no confidence it would widen. And I had no idea where I was. I was lost beyond being lost. My plan was to go forward and keep turning left, and eventually I thought it had to take me somewhere.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Lula said. “I shouldn’t of had that super-?size soda. You need to find a gas station or McDonald’s or something.”
An hour later, I was still creeping along in the Barrens. No golden arches in sight.
“I’m gonna burst,” Lula said. “I gotta go.”
I came to a stop. “Pick a tree,” I said.
“What?”
“This is as good as it’s going to get. We’re lost, and we’re out of gas.”
“I don’t want to hear that,” Lula said. “It’s gonna get dark. I don’t like the idea of being here in the dark. It’s creepy. And the Jersey Dev il comes out at night.”
“There’s no Jersey Dev il.”
“I heard about it. It got wings. Big wings.”
Carl had climbed over the seat and was sitting hunched on the gearshift. Carl didn’t like talk of the Jersey Dev il.
“Are you sure we’re out of gas?” Lula asked.
I turned the key, but the engine didn’t kick over.
“I can’t believe you got me into a situation where we’re out of gas and there’s no restroom,” Lula said. “I’m going down this road, and I’m finding a place on my own.”
Lula heaved herself out of the car and set off down the road.
“That’s not a good idea,” I yelled after her. “You’ll get even more lost.”
“Roads don’t just go nowhere. Roads go somewhere. I’m following this road.”
I slid from behind the wheel and ran to catch up to her. I thought walking off was a dumb idea, but she had the gun with bullets in it. I didn’t get into a cold sweat over the Jersey Dev il, but I wasn’t crazy about the idea of Wulf finding me unprotected in the Jeep.
We walked for a half hour, and we were definitely losing light. Carl was close on my heels, wide-?eyed and silent. Lula was two steps in front of me, huffing along. She suddenly stopped and cocked her head.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“What?”
“That flapping sound. Like something flying through the trees.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I’m pretty sure it was the Dev il,” Lula said.
“The Jersey Dev il is folklore. It’s a bedtime story. And it’s not even scary. It’s supposed to look like a potbellied horse with wings.”
“Yeah, but I heard that the Dev il likes to eat plus-?sized, beautiful brown-?skinned women.”
“That’s ridiculous. Horses are herbivores.”
“This is a dev il horse. There’s no telling what it eats. And it could stomp you with its hooves. Or it could put a spell on you.”