Fran received a big hug from her son, and then Duncan was opening up Josh’s door.
Josh sat down carefully, trying not to jostle the primate. Before he’d gotten halfway into the car, the monkey had leapt off his shoulder and into Duncan’s lap.
“Easy, Duncan,” Josh warned. “Don’t try to grab him. Let him get comfortable with you.”
The monkey held out a hand, just as he had with Josh. Duncan took it.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Duncan.”
After a customary shake the monkey reached out for Fran. She grasped his tiny monkey paw with two fingers and introduced herself. He pumped her hand up and down. Fran’s laughter filled the car, sweet and musical. Josh grinned.
“He’s got a tag on his collar,” Duncan said. “His name is Mathison.”
Upon hearing his name, Mathison chattered in an obviously social manner. It sounded like a bird chirping. This prompted Woof to stick his nose over the seat for a sniff.
“Be good, Woof,” Duncan commanded. “He’s our friend.”
Mathison extended a hand to the dog. When it wasn’t shaken, he patted Woof on the head. Woof apparently decided the proceedings weren’t that interesting, because he withdrew and went back to sleep.
“Mathison is a New World monkey,” Duncan said. “We studied them in school. They come from South America. You can tell because he has a tail. I think he’s a cappuccino.”
“That’s capuchin,” Fran gently corrected. “And it looks like he’s got a scar on his head.”
Fran moved to touch it, and Mathison screeched at her, batting her hand away.
“Sensitive little guy.”
“I bet he’s hungry,” Duncan said. “Capuchin monkeys eat fruit and bugs. We should stop someplace.”
Josh marveled at Duncan’s resilience. Earlier he’d been shot at by his babysitter and almost burned alive. Children were remarkable. Josh and Annie had talked about having kids. If things had turned out differently, he would have wanted one like Duncan.
Josh started the car, checked his rearview, and then pulled back onto JJ. The turnoff onto the main highway was in a mile or two. Then, on to the ER. Josh wondered what would be open this late where he could get some monkey food. A gas station, probably. Pick up some peanuts, or raisins, or maybe fresh fruit. There was a Farm and Fleet that sold livestock feed. Maybe they would have—
“Thank God.”
Fran pointed to the road ahead. Josh saw the blinking red and blue lights in the distance. Lots of them. He cut his speed, waiting for them to approach.
Oddly, they stayed still.
“Why aren’t they coming?” Duncan asked.
Josh didn’t know, and he didn’t like it. He slowed down even further, then had to brake. Both lanes were blocked off with orange traffic cones and neon-yellow barrels. Josh pulled up to them and noticed two rows of steel stinger spikes on the asphalt, extending out into the woods on either side of the road. Josh had watched enough TV to know that police used the spikes to blow tires during high-speed chases.
Josh gazed beyond the roadblock. Parked fifty yards ahead were four police cars, several army Humvees, and an honest-to-God tank.
“DO NOT GET OUT OF YOUR VEHICLE! TURN AROUND AND HEAD BACK IN THE DIRECTION YOU CAME FROM!”
“Why do they want us to go back?” Duncan asked. He scooted closer to Josh again.
“I have no idea, Duncan.”
Josh reached for the door handle. Fran grabbed his arm.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do that, Josh.”
“What are they going to do? Shoot me?”
He opened the door and three shots punched through his driver’s-side window. The megaphone boomed again.
“STAY IN YOUR VEHICLE AND TURN AROUND!”
Josh’s pants were peppered with tiny square bits of glass. He noticed his hands were shaking. Next to him Fran and Duncan were ducking down, covering their heads. Mathison had jumped into the back seat, where he and Woof huddled together on the car floor.
What the hell were these people doing, shooting at civilians?
“I’m driving a woman and child!” He yelled through the open door but decided to keep his head inside the car. “They need medical attention!”
“TURN YOUR VEHICLE AROUND!”
“Damn it, we need help! We’ve been attacked! We need to get to a hospital!”
“YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO TURN AROUND, THEN WE’LL OPEN FIRE.”
Josh stared impotently at Fran, not knowing what they should do.
“We have to go,” Fran said.
“Where?”
“Maybe we can park someplace and walk to the road.”
“There are at least thirty army guys out there. They have a tank.”
“I thought the army was supposed to help us,” Duncan said.
“YOU NOW HAVE FIVE SECONDS!”
Josh had no choice. He backed up and continued driving backward until he felt safe enough to close his door and make a three-point turn.
“Now what?” he asked Fran. “This is the only road in and out of Safe Haven.”
“We could go back to my neighbor’s house. There’s obviously something going on. It looks like the authorities are aware of the situation. Maybe we should lie low, wait it out.”
Josh wasn’t convinced. He tried to come up with a scenario where the military would put up roadblocks. A quarantine of some kind? Were Bernie, Taylor, Santiago, and Ajax here to spread some sort of germ or poison? Or was this a media blackout, ensuring news didn’t spread? That could explain the phone problems they’d been having—someone might be jamming the signals and blocking the land lines.
“You need to see a doctor.” Josh stared at Fran so she could see how serious he was. “As soon as possible. Duncan does, too. And I’m not sure going back to Safe Haven is a smart idea.”
“How about Doc Wainwright?” Duncan asked. “He gives me my shots every year.”
Doc Wainwright had a clinic in town, open Tuesday and Thursday. The other days of the week he divided his time between Shell Lake and Eau Claire.
“He won’t be open now, Duncan,” Fran said.
“Can’t we go to his house? He told me he lives on the lake.”
Josh considered it. Wainwright had a house on Big Lake McDonald, on the shore opposite the Mortons’. But Fran needed more than a few stitches and some antibiotics. She needed surgery.
Still, Wainwright was better than not doing anything.
“Doc Wainwright it is,” Josh said. He hit the gas and then had to slam on the brakes once again to avoid hitting the man standing in the middle of the road.
Streng and Erwin walked the still-docile Bernie over to the sheriff’s Jeep. Streng locked him in the back and tossed the McDonald’s bag full of Bernie’s things onto the floor of the front seat. Then Streng turned his attention to Sal Morton’s house.
“He twisted off Sal’s head, Sheriff. Like a bottle cap.”
Streng had no reason to doubt Josh. And he really didn’t want to go back into that house and see what his cousin had seen. But he’d dropped his .45 on the roof, and he’d feel much safer riding with Bernie if he had it back.
“Erwin, you and Olen come with me, help find my gun.”
Erwin’s face pinched. “I really need to get to the junior high, Sheriff. If those soldier guys have the mayor, then that whole lottery story could be BS. My fiancée is there.”
From what Streng understood, much of the town had gone to that lottery thing. Surely there was safety in numbers. But Streng wasn’t going to prevent Erwin from looking after his own.
“Okay. I’ll meet you there after I drop off Bernie at my office. If anything strange is going on, grab your girl and run.”