Sandy looked up at the sky, which stared back blankly, and she shivered. Would Nick and Harlan leave now, execute Nick’s stated design from the start? A murky reality began pulling at Sandy from behind: one that said that even if this could’ve ended easily once, the time for that was gone. Although Nick was walking confidently now, leading their tired clump at a good clip. There seemed an urgency to his step as he mounted the road back to the house. Nick held the gun in his gloved hand, keeping it handy. The moon finally showed itself in the opaque sky, and Harlan cast a shambling shadow across the roadbed. Sandy was less afraid of the gun Nick palmed than she was of Harlan. Bullets could miss, or be dodged, or survived. Whereas Harlan, shuffling along next to Ivy, was unavoidable. How could Sandy set Harlan against Nick, help him to start making his own decisions? If she could do that, it would be an explosive weapon on its own. She needed another pill or two inside Nick, so the effects of the drug would obscure her machinations.
