Chapter 25 #2
“I just wonder why we’re so far south.” There were shorter routes to Cheyenne, assuming that was really where they were headed. If he’d tell her, great. If not, at least she’d know the limits to this strange, fragile détente.
“Ah.” Nigel nodded slightly, as if she’d performed to expectation. “The terrain. This gives us the best chance of getting through the Continental Divide, with a maximum number of chances to reroute through open country if necessary. Secondly, he won’t expect us to go near Salt Lake.”
Okay. Cass weighed his tone, his expression, and measured the distance between them before deciding she could push a bit more. “Why not?”
“It’s a bastion. Good hunting for the unclean, guarding routes through the Divide.
To take the city we’d need to send several cleansing teams to establish and hold a frontier temple, then a full combat battalion of Sons and at least two experienced Dreamers.
We won’t risk the latter for some while, though. You are far too precious.”
He kept talking like people with her weird talents were high-value instead of noxious bogey-attracting liabilities. Cass couldn’t figure out how to feel about that. “Okay.” That’s… nice, I guess? “When are we going to switch off?”
“Switch off?” His poker face was so good the slightest change was like a shout, but only if she watched carefully. If he minded her studying him like a bug under a microscope, he made no sign.
“Driving.” Cass had to hold up her end of whatever weird bargain they were currently operating under, and there was no better time to start than right-goddamn-now, as Steve always said. “You’ll need breaks.”
The narrow, swerving road sloped downward; there was a glimpse of green sign between two flanking hills ahead—highway, ahoy, one of Grik’s favorite yodels.
Nigel didn’t speak for a short while, but that could have been him weighing the prospect of having a wild-eyed Cass at the wheel. “It’s more important that you rest.”
“Fatigue causes accidents.” I sound like Trille. Her skull was stuffed with dead people. Maybe it was actually their ghosts; given everything else happening, she wouldn’t be surprised.
“You are correct,” Nigel granted, easily. He glanced at the rearview, checked the precisely arranged side mirrors. “I’m also trained in defensive driving, with or without additional combat sorcery. Not to mention the mark, which grants certain advantages, not least in reflex time.”
Fine. You win. Cass glanced half-guiltily at the side mirror as well, checking behind them. Nothing yet.
Or just nothing she could see.
The highway accepted them, morning traffic sparse but evident.
The Jeep hummed, opening up and settling into traveling speed.
Vengeful sunglare reflected off windshields as the signs began to talk; they were apparently still in Idaho but only just. The state line approached, the highway acquiring an extra lane in either direction as well as a concrete divider.
It looked even more like California, save for bigger hills and a distressing lack of palm trees. The wind creeping through partially open windows already held a dusty promise of later heat. “I’ve never been this far east.”
“It gets better.” Nigel sounded almost sardonic, except for the apologetic note in the last word. “We’ll find some breakfast soon, and real coffee. What would you like?”
“Anything quick. Listen, if I burn out that means I can’t do freaky stuff anymore?” An entirely exotic experience, talking to someone so casually about the weird shit. She couldn’t decide if she liked it. “Maybe that would be better.”
“It would render your talents wholly uncontrollable.” Still patient, but a small vertical line had appeared between Nigel’s dark eyebrows.
The stripe in his hair flushed with ruddy morning sunshine, and he’d stubbled up but good.
“There’s a distinct risk of catatonia, or catastrophic failure of several bodily systems, drained of the energy required to continue functioning. ”
That all sounded pretty awful. “But you can teach me to do some things, right? I’ve never met anyone who—.”
“One moment.” He checked the rearview, hit the blinker, and took the next exit as if he’d planned to do so all along.
Cass twisted in her seat, peering out the back window. “What is it?”
“Highway patrol. Four or five cars back—don’t worry, it’s daylight.”
I’m gonna worry anyway. Cass watched, her heart in her mouth. The Jeep coasted along, losing speed, and Nigel exhaled softly—not quite a sigh, definitely not a word. The concrete artery muttered behind them, a sleepy snake with metallic mice scurrying along its back.
“We’re not going to make it, are we.” Despair towered over her, a dark nasty wave. “You should just go on your own. It’ll be faster without baggage.”
A small creaking noise came from the steering wheel. Cass watched Nigel’s knuckles turn white; his blue eyes damn near glowed, though the color was entirely different than the noseless bogeys’. One small muscle flickered in his heavily stubbled cheek.
Is he gonna snap? She waited, hardly daring to breathe.
“You’re exhausted,” he said, quietly. A stop sign reared at the end of the exit; he let the Jeep take its own time getting there, bleeding off momentum. “And I have not served you well.”
What the hell does that mean? “Look, I’m not kidding. Every single person I get close to dies.” Finally, she was letting loose some bare, honest truth. “You’re better off just going back to your people and telling them—”
“Cass. Stop.” The Jeep halted. A flickering glance at the rearview, a quick look side to side, then he hit the gas. The Jeep happily rolled right across and onto the other half of the exit, taking them back to the highway. “No matter what happens, you will reach safety. I won’t allow otherwise.”
The sign said Snowville; she didn’t think it ever snowed around here.
But who knew—some deserts got cold in the winter, it was just a question of latitude.
More to the point, the windshield was pointed right into the rising sun again.
Despite the visors being down, the glare scoured the inside of her skull.
Even her teeth ached.
“You sound like Bern,” she mumbled, and regretted it almost immediately. It was true, but that didn’t help. “The… our leader.” Our commanding officer. The glue holding our crew together.
She refused to think about him in the past tense.
“Thank you for the compliment.” Damn the man, why did he also have to sound pleased? “Just hold out a little longer, my lirai. First a proper breakfast, then we’ll solve all else.”
Comforting to think it was so easy. In any case, she hurt all over, certainly too damn much to argue.
Cass closed her eyes, folded her arms atop her knees, and hunched further, burying her face in relative darkness.
The Jeep’s tires thrummed, a song rising to freeway pitch again, and no matter how much she felt like crying the tears simply wouldn’t come.