Thots and Prayers: A Slash or Pass novella

Rule 1 - Eisley

Stevie Nicks blared through the speakers as we drove down the highway. It was another gorgeous day as an immortal being with the two loves of my lives, Kansas and Constantine.

“You’re beautiful.” Constantine kissed each of my knuckles softly while driving. “So fucking beautiful.”

“I’m tired. So fucking tired.” I sighed and leaned my head on him, inhaling the intoxicating scent of cigarettes, his cologne, and the leather of his jacket. He turned to Kansas beside me and tipped his chin up.

“You ready to stop for the night?”

Kansas looked up from his phone and shrugged. He stretched, letting out a yawn as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me from Constantine.

“Yeah, I could use a good stretch. Next town we hit, let’s stop there.”

I snuggled into Kansas’s warm body and closed my eyes. We’d been driving for six hours, and I, too, needed a break from the car.

“Ooh, anyone up for a trip to Ricefield?” Constantine snickered as he turned off the highway.

We were surrounded by fields of tall, yellow stalks. Constantine slowed to match the speed limit. The signs said thirty-five for vehicles and fifteen for horses. Where were we?

We pulled into the gas station, and a horse and buggy pulled in beside us. A man and woman in plain clothes climbed out and curtly nodded to us. We got out of the car to stretch while Constantine filled the tank. I reached for Kansas’s hand as we went inside for drinks and snacks.

I scrunched up my nose as he filled a basket with cheap snack cakes, greasy chips, and pop. “My stomach hurts for you.”

He chuckled and kept adding the garbage to the basket. “You want anything?”

I ran my hand along the rack of chips. “A kitchen of my own. To be able to cook and bake. My old life back.”

Kansas eyed me over his glasses. We’d left Shelley Vale over a week ago because we’d accidentally murdered half the town. Well, I’d like to think accidentally, but I don’t think Kansas or Constantine were as sad about the massacre as I was. They were happy about it. I was still conflicted. Therese, Rem, Spencer, Emi, all gone. Not to mention the film crew and whoever else I wasn’t aware of.

I’d been forced to leave my home and everything else behind to flee with them. It was that or be caught, hauled off to jail, and the truth about our newly reanimated selves would be revealed. What would they do when they discovered that none of us aged and that our bodies healed even from the deadliest wounds? Kansas and Constantine had been stabbed several times, and they were just fine. We couldn’t sit in jail cells for years without someone noticing something off.

“Come on, Eisley.” Kansas paused to cup my cheek. He ran his thumb over my skin tenderly. “We’ll find somewhere to settle soon. For now, let’s just enjoy the road. Maybe this town will have a motel with a little kitchenette or something. We’ll even get to use fake names I found for us.” He wiggled his eyebrows, as if stealing someone else’s identity would cheer me up.

Defeated, I put a bottle of water and a package of red licorice in the basket and we checked out. Constantine was leaning against the car, arms crossed, and scowling.

“What’s going on?” Kansas dropped my hand and moved faster.

“Nothing, just a bunch of pricks. There’s a motel about a mile down the road. Let’s get a room. I want to lay down.” He slid into the driver’s seat and we joined him on the other side. The moment Kansas shut the door, he peeled out, leaving dust in the wake and the Amish couple shaking their heads at us.

Constantine rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “You ever see Children of the Corn?” he asked us, shuddering.

I slapped his arm. “What did they say or do to you?” I didn’t like the idea of him discriminating against anyone just because they lived a different lifestyle. Hell, we weren’t exactly living conventional lives. “They’re Amish, not aliens.”

“Who? Not them. Just the corn fields in general. Although a couple in a car drove by and yelled for me to repent.” He snickered. “That all sinners must repent if they want to be saved.”

“Sinners?” I grinned. “That’s all? I’ve been called a helluva lot worse.” Before Constantine had returned to our lives, I was making a decent living as a cam girl. I was one of the lucky few who had managed to do it with tame photos and videos, but I still considered it sex work.

“I flipped them off, which made them stop for a split second so the woman could tell me she’d pray for me.”

“Pray?” Kansas stuck out his tongue and gagged. “No thanks. I’d much rather go to hell.”

“Same.” I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers.

There wasn’t much to see in Ricefield. A small church, a small grocery store, a post office, a mechanic, and a few houses tucked around, all surrounded by corn fields. Constantine was right. I did kind of get an eerie vibe. While we didn’t see any more members of the Amish community, I still felt like someone was going to stop us to talk about he who walks among the rows.

A loud pop caused the car to sputter and spin out. Constantine shoved on the brakes, and we lurched forward. He threw his hand across me to keep me from going through the window.

“Are you all right?” Both men were touching and checking on me frantically as if I were still human. I brushed them away. A flat tire wasn’t going to do me any damage.

“I’m fine. Did the tire just blow?” We got out to assess the situation, confirming what we’d heard.

“We must have hit something.” Constantine rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Fuck.”

Suddenly, smoke poured from the hood. Both men worked to lift it and smoke billowed out, causing them to cough and step back just as the car caught on fire.

“Well, that’s not good,” Kansas muttered.

“No shit, it’s not good,” Constantine snapped.

Just then, someone came from the building across the street. A small group followed suit from various buildings and soon we heard a fire truck in the distance. We stepped back and let the firemen spray the car with an extinguisher.

“Where are you all headed?” a policeman who’d shown up asked. “Why’d you come to Ricefield?”

“We’re on a road trip,” Constantine said in a clipped tone. “We were planning on trying to get a room at that motel for a night before continuing on.” He pointed down the road at the large faded blue sign with pink lettering that said Brenner Motel.

“Looks like you may be staying more than one night.” The police officer clicked his tongue. “Let’s call Lucky, he’ll give you a tow and see what he can do for you.”

The town gathered around the scene as if it were the most interesting thing to happen to them in months. Based on the murmurs, they didn’t like us. Our tattoos, our black clothing, our general foreignness.

“What did you say your name was, son?” the officer asked Constantine.

He gave the name from the file Kansas had stolen. “Priest Duvall.”

“Priest?” The officer raised his eyebrow and looked Constantine over. “Well, Priest, let’s get you to the motel. Hopefully, Mitch has some rooms open.”

We waited until the mechanic came with his tow truck. He promptly informed us that whatever parts he would need to fix Constantine’s car would take at least a week to get.

“Maybe more, dependin’ on if I like you or not.” Lucky snickered. “I’m the only mechanic in the county. Good luck finding someone else to work on this for you.”

The officer gave Lucky a look of chastisement. “Come on now, be polite to Priest Duvall. Come you three, I’ll drive you down to Brenner’s Motel.”

The three of us shared a look and agreed to let him take the car after we’d emptied it of our suitcases.

“Now what?” I asked, dejected. I looked at the one-story motel. It was old and gave ‘rent by the hour’ vibes.

“Well…” Constantine lifted his suitcase and mine and turned toward the motel. “I guess we finally go get some rest. Maybe they’ll have donuts.”