They had driven out under the hard blue sky with the windows cracked because the air conditioner had died months ago.
Then the engine stuttered.
Then it coughed.
Then it rolled to a stop on the shoulder, miles from anything that looked like help.
Dana had pressed both hands against the steering wheel and closed her eyes.
Caleb had never seen her look that defeated.
The gas gauge was near empty.
The clinic was still too far.
His mother was getting worse.
The red gas can in the trunk was old, dented, and sun-faded.
Caleb pulled it out before he had fully decided what he was going to do.
Dana grabbed his wrist with surprising strength.