In less than thirty minutes, we reached town. There were streetlamps and a few houses here and there.
The man parked in front of a low, weathered house with a brown door. The early daylight showed the faded, peeling yellow paint on the wooden walls.
There was a cracked flowerpot by the steps. Dry soil filled it. A fishing net was hung over the porch railing, stiff with salt. The window shutters were old.
The man shut off the engine and came out of the car. My hands were trembling as I opened the truck door. The man ran to the other side to help.
We lifted Jason from the truck the same way we’d put him in. He groaned when we moved him. His eyes stayed shut. He rested his head heavily against my shoulder.
Before we reached the door, the wooden front door clicked and swung open. A l
