The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters

“Hi,” she heard her dad say, from the other side of the car.

“Hi there,” Milo answered. He holstered his gun.

“We’re looking for this girl,” Bill said. “Would you have seen her, by any chance?”

His voice moved round the car. Milo opened the door, shielding Amber from view, keeping his feet planted to hide her own. He took off his jacket and threw it in.

She heard Bill and Betty stop walking suddenly. For a moment, she thought she’d been spotted.

“That’s a nice weapon,” said Bill. “What is it, a Glock?”

“Glock 21,” said Milo. “You cops? I’ve got a concealed carry permit.”

Betty had a smile in her voice. “No, we’re not police. We’re just looking for our daughter. Have you seen her?”

There was a moment while they showed Milo a photograph.

“Sorry,” Milo said. “Don’t think I’ve—”

The door to the diner opened and Glen came out. His eyes flickered over Amber and rested on her parents.

“Hi,” he said, puncturing the silence. “Did we do something wrong?”

Betty laughed politely, with just the right amount of sadness. “No, we’re not police officers. We’re just looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”

Glen walked out of Amber’s view. She shrank back against the Charger. If she had to trust in Glen’s acting prowess, she wouldn’t be hiding for very much longer. She got ready to shift. If she shifted before they did, maybe she could outrun them in the forest.

“Yeah,” said Glen, “I’ve seen her.”

Amber screwed her eyes shut. No, you idiot.

“You have?” said Betty, excited.

“You have?” said Milo. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Glen said. “They were at the table behind us when we got here. You’ll have to excuse Milo – he doesn’t notice a whole lot when Whitesnake is playing. I’m the brains of the operation. Name’s Glen. How do you do.”

“Hello, Glen,” said Betty. “I’m Betty, and this is Bill. You’ve seen our daughter? You’re sure it was her?”

“I think so,” said Glen. “I didn’t get a good look at her face, but I’m pretty sure. She was with a woman, a small woman with grey hair. They had a map out.”

“When was this?”

“Milo?” said Glen. “When did we get here?”

“About an hour ago,” said Milo, clearly resenting his role in this.

“Did they say where they were going?” Bill asked.

Glen hesitated. “Uh, listen, I’m sure you’re good people, but if your daughter’s run away, she probably has her reasons. No offence, but for all I know you might lock her in the cellar or something.”

“We love our daughter,” Betty said. “All we want is for her to be safe. That woman she’s with, she’s part of a cult. We have to get her back before we lose her for good.”

“A cult?” Glen echoed. “Oh wow. Yeah, absolutely. My cousin went off and joined a cult years ago, so I know what that’s like. It was a UFO cult. I hope your daughter’s not in a UFO cult – they’re the worst. I heard the woman say they were going to Toledo. I’m usually terrible with place names, but I remember that because, y’know, the phrase ‘Holy Toledo’. Hey, you think that’s where the phrase comes from?”

“Either that or the holy city of Toledo in Spain,” said Bill. “Did you happen to see what they were driving?”

“A white van,” said Glen, “in dire need of a wash. I didn’t notice any UFO bumper stickers or anything, so you might be in luck. Like I said, they left about an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Glen,” Betty said, and Amber listened to their retreating footsteps.

“Hope you find her,” Glen called.

Their car beeped and they got in, and Amber crawled on her hands and knees to the front of the Charger as her parents’ car pulled out on to the road and accelerated fast.

She stood.

“So,” Glen said, “your parents, huh?”

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THEY SPENT THE NIGHT at a Motel 6 somewhere in Indiana. Amber barricaded her door again, and she tossed and turned, but didn’t fall asleep until a half-hour before Milo knocked. She didn’t eat any breakfast and she kept her head down and her cap on while walking out to the Charger. It gleamed, the dust and dirt of the previous day’s travel washed away like it had never happened.

If only that was true.

As they were bypassing Chicago, Amber relented and told Glen about Shanks. He’d earned the right to sit at the table with the cool kids, she reckoned. They drove through an endless suburban sprawl of strip malls and chain restaurants, the parking lots and signs repeating as if copied and pasted, and got into Springton, Wisconsin a little before three that afternoon. The day had dulled, become cold, and sporadic showers of rain splattered the windshield. They passed the high school, a building of red brick set a dozen steps above street level, and carried on to the town square. The library sat on one side, and opposite it, on the south side, sat the Mayor’s Office – white, with pillars outside denoting its obvious importance. The buildings to the east and west housed various businesses and eateries.

They got out. Stretched. It was maybe ten degrees cooler than when they’d started their journey, and Amber was wearing jeans now. They felt weird on her legs. She pulled on a jacket and made sure her cap was secure.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We ask about Dacre Shanks,” said Glen before Milo could answer. “We split up. We’ll cover more ground that way. The sooner we get to him, the better, am I right? We’ve got your parents on our tail, Amber. I may have been able to throw them off the scent yesterday, but that won’t stop them for long. Here, that guy looks like he might know something.”

Glen strode towards an old man walking his dog.

Amber looked at Milo. “He’s trying really hard.”

Milo nodded. “You notice how quiet he was this morning? He didn’t make one single stupid comment.”

“And he was very useful yesterday.”

Milo hesitated, then shook his head. “Doesn’t make one bit of difference. This is where we cut him loose, before we talk to Shanks. The less he knows …” He trailed off.

Amber frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“What, Milo?”