Gazing out the window, he saw Skyler near the end of the line. She had swept her hair into a ponytail and wore a plain black dress. Her eyes searched the windows of the bus but Zeke could tell that she hadn't spotted him yet. In her hands she held a small cardboard sign upon which she'd written two words in large black letters.

come back. Throat dry, he forced himself to turn away. If she saw him then, at least she would not see the doubt in his eyes.

Grinding noises came from the engine as Vickers shifted into higher gear.The bus lurched forward and then they were speeding west, toward sunset, with a cargo of breathless fears and unlikely hopes.

The McAllen-Hidalgo-Reynosa International Bridge spanned the Rio Grande and connected the United States to Mexico.Though it pa.s.sed through Hidalgo on the U.S. side, the bridge began in McAllen, Texas. Zeke held Savannah's hand as the bus rattled through miles of ranch and farmland all the way to Route 241, which Vickers followed straight through Hidalgo. In summertime, the sunlight seemed to linger forever, but in winter the night came on quickly, and by the time they were rolling along the bridge toward the checkpoint, it was full dark. Bright lights illuminated the short span and the four lanes going either direction. A high fence and a stretch of plain concrete separated the two, and with the towering light posts, it reminded Zeke of the time he'd gone as a boy to visit his uncle Frank in the state prison up in Houston.

"All right,"Vickers called from the front. "We're almost there." Zeke took a breath and dug out the bone pipe that had been sitting heavily in his pocket, jabbing into his thigh. He hesitated, but others didn't, and soon the whole bus was filled with a chorus of ugly notes, just a brief flurry of cluttered music that ended as abruptly as it had begun. He was one of the last to play, and once he had sounded the notes, he turned to Savannah.

"Close your eyes, kiddo. Pretend you're sleeping." As the bus juddered and then surged forward,Vickers shifting gears, Zeke discovered he was praying. His entreaties amounted to little more than Please, Lord, let us both come back alive, but it surprised him to find himself on speaking terms with G.o.d again. After Savannah's death, he had all but given up prayer. Now he lowered his head and reached out with his heart, hoping to be heard, and that what they had done was not the abomination he feared it must be. She's my baby girl, Lord, he thought. What else was I to do?

And then, grimly, feeling the weight of his own guilt: You brought your own son back to life. Can you blame me for following your lead?

Though the air had cooled and the breeze that blew in through the partly open windows circulated well, he felt a damp sheen of sweat under his arms and down his back. It might have been his imagination, but even Savannah's hand seemed warm and clammy to the touch. He tried to take that as a good sign.

The bus idled in line for a few minutes, but it was a weekday evening and they were coming from the American side into Mexico, so the wait wasn't long. On the other side, Zeke could see headlights stretching back into the distance. Some of those people, he knew, would be waiting for an hour or two to cross the border into the States.

Vickers parked the bus and then worked the handle that rattled open the doors. Most cars were waved through, but with a bus like this, the Mexican border guards almost had no choice but to at least ask them what they were up to.The woman who stepped onto the bus wore her uniform proudly. In the dim orange glow from the tiny light above the door, Zeke could see the frown that creased her forehead.

"Some tired people," the guard said.

"We were up very early this morning," Vickers said. "I have all of the pa.s.sports right here."

He offered her a small plastic container that held forty-seven pa.s.sports and the guard frowned at the box, obviously not inclined to examine them.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Voices of Faith conference in San Fernando," Vickers said. "This is the St. Matthews Family Choir."

There were a dozen obvious questions the guard could have asked, beginning with why they didn't have any suitcases on board. Instead she frowned at them for a few seconds longer and then looked at Vickers.

"Your pa.s.sport?"

He set the plastic box on his lap and handed her a single pa.s.sport, which she gave only a cursory glance before returning.

"Good luck."

"Thanks so much!"Vickers said brightly. "G.o.d bless you."

The guard muttered something as she climbed off of the bus-perhaps returning the wish for the Lord's blessings-but Zeke couldn't make out the words. Then Vickers put the bus in drive, gears grinding, and they were rumbling over the bridge into Mexico.

"You said you'd made a deal with the border patrol," teenage Tommy Jessup said from the back of the bus. "Was that a part of it?"

Vickers's face was visible in the huge rearview mirror, bathed in yellow light from the dashboard. "No.That was just them not caring. Not a lot of people sneak into Mexico.The deal we've got is with the U.S. Border Patrol, and we're going to need it to get home."

The salesman, Mooney, spoke up from two rows behind Zeke. "Let's just hope the ones you bribed keep their word."

"Yes," Linda Trevino said. "Because people who take bribes are usually so honest."

"Linda, for once please shut your f.u.c.king mouth."

It took Zeke a moment to realize that those words had come from his own lips, and then he smiled in the dark, happy to have told her off. It made him feel more alive. On a bus full of people coming back from the dead, it had begun to seem as if their presence was dragging him in the other direction.

He turned and looked at Savannah, marveling at her beauty as he always did, and he longed for morning to come, for all of this to be behind them and Enoch out of their lives forever.

The bloodstained pipe felt heavy in his hand.

And the bus rolled on.

7 Twenty minutes past the border, Enoch finally spoke up. It was strange the way he seemed to vanish when he did not want their attention, as if they had all somehow managed to forget he was among them. Zeke doubted that the Mexican border guard had even glanced at him, though he'd been right there in the front row, a little man sitting with his hands in his lap, quiet and still as a meditating monk.

"Get off here," he said. "On the left."

Vickers did not argue. Many eyes glanced out into the darkness, but no one questioned Enoch.The bus shook as they traveled along a rutted, narrow road through a small town that seemed to be nothing more than graffiti-covered shacks and a boarded-up gas station. Four or five miles farther, Enoch told Vickers to turn left again, but this time there was no road at all, only a rough dirt path that deteriorated until it vanished completely.

Moments later, Enoch said, "Okay, stop here," and the bus groaned to a halt. Zeke stood in the aisle and looked out the window on the right side. An ominous black SUV sat in the darkness, moonlight glinting off of its surfaces.As Zeke watched, all four doors opened and a quartet of grim-faced men climbed out.

Vickers opened the door of the bus and Enoch rose, turning toward them.

"Stay here," Enoch instructed. "Not a word."