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The dog barked again.

“There’s a farmhouse just down the road,” Canidy said. “I wasn’t sure if it was inhabited, but that dog means it probably is. I’m going to go have a look. You should be fine. We’re far enough away from the LZ. And there’s been no sign that someone has seen us, or at least is coming after us.”

“Go,” John Craig said, curling up in a fetal position.

Nice, Canidy thought. This just keeps getting fucking better . . .

* * *

Canidy shook John Craig’s shoulder fifteen minutes later.

“Wake up!” he said. “You can sleep when we get to town.”

“What? How do we get there?”

“Let’s go,” Canidy said, then put his hand under John Craig’s right arm and pulled him to his feet. Then, with great effort, he got him to the road.

* * *

“A bicycle?” John Craig said. “I can’t pedal with this bad foot.”

“You’re not going to. Just sit on the seat.”

It took another great effort to get John Craig on the bike seat and balanced. Canidy found that the real challenge came next, when he mounted the bike just in front of John Craig.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” Canidy instructed.

John Craig did so.

Canidy, his left foot on one pedal, then started pushing the bicycle forward with his right. When he went to get that foot on its pedal, he found that their combined weight made the bike terribly unbalanced, causing the front tire to wobble wildly.

Canidy was convinced they were about to go down—and hard.

Behind him, he heard John Craig begin to chuckle.

“Don’t you dare fucking start with that now!” Canidy said, but he chuckled when he said it.

He managed to get in a couple strong rotations of the pedals, and with more speed the wobbling tire evened out and the bicycle became more stable.

Just like a damn airplane, Canidy thought as he stood somewhat triumphantly and steered along the dark road.

They coasted downhill, picking up speed, and after a couple minutes passed the farmhouse.

John Craig noticed that there had been no barking.

Is that because the dog didn’t hear us?

Or because Dick had to do something so he could steal this bike?

Then he felt sick at that mental image. And then guilty.

Damn it! None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t landed i

n that tree and screwed up my foot.

Thinking it would ease his conscience, he was about to ask Canidy about the dog, then decided that it was a really long shot that Canidy would even answer the question—and, if then, answer truthfully—and John Craig decided he really didn’t want to hear his fear confirmed.

[THREE]