They were moving, albeit below the posted speed limit, but at least they were moving. They saw fewer and fewer cars on the road; most people seemed to be heeding the advice given on the radio to stay off the roads—especially the untreated ones—unless their journey was essential. Rory was beginning to wish he’d spoken up about getting a room back in the previous town. A part of him also wished they’d stayed at the motel. At least there they were safe, warm, and could get adequate food. To add to his unease, the truck’s engine began to make very un-engine-like noises—banging, rattling, and a most disturbing grinding. The cab began to fill with the odor of burning oil. Zane partially wound down the window at his side. This immediately chilled the cab, which hadn’t been all that warm to start
