61 Adam’s eyes kept tracking away from the road, following spidery cracks in the glass toward the bullet hole just off center of the windshield. The dim headlights barely reflecting off the highway caught in that tiny space. If the wind whistled through the opening, he couldn’t hear it. Not over the roaring white noise of the missing windows. Buffeted by the winds from outside, Adam was shivering with cold. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it together. His hand brushed his chest, feeling for the little bump beneath his shirt. When he found his mother’s key, he pressed so hard the bones beneath it went numb. He felt like he had a bomb inside his body, and he was about to fly apart. “Luther,” he yelled. When was the last time the man had moved? “You still with me?” Luther lif

