Angel

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 44

 

  I peered through the windshield. “Another state that I’ve only heard about before, and now I can’t even see it. ”

  Alex was lying back in the passenger seat, his eyes half closed. “This part of it’s just like Arkansas, pretty much,” he said. “Don’t worry: you’re not missing anything exciting. ”

  From what I could see in the headlights, he was right. “What do you think will happen when we get to the camp?” I asked.

  Sitting up, he propped a foot onto the dash, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll need to get all the AKs together and regroup, and then set up on our own again without the angels knowing. I don’t know how many AKs there are in the field now — hopefully Cully will have some idea, so we can decide what our next move is. ”

  I really wasn’t sure how I was supposed to fit into all this or why the angels were so certain I was a threat to them. It didn’t matter, though — as long as my family might be in danger, there was no way I was going home. Mixed feelings swirled through me: a sharp stab of sadness at the thought that I might never see Mom again, but also a sense of relief that whatever the future held, it sounded as though I would be with Alex. I swallowed as I realized just how important that had become to me. God, when had that happened?

  “Do you want me to drive for a while?” he asked, glancing over at me. “You’ve been at it for hours now. ”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said after a pause. And I pulled over so that we could change sides.

  IT WENT FASTER with both of us taking turns behind the wheel. By noon the next day, we’d passed through Oklahoma and were heading across the Texas panhandle. I stared out the windshield in awe. I had never seen anything to compare with the absolute flatness here — the sweeping, empty expanses of burnt-looking grass, stretching out for miles to the unbroken line of the horizon. The sky soared above us, looking about ten times larger than usual, and grain elevators peppered the landscape. Every dusty little town seemed to have one, though often there wasn’t a single person in sight. As I drove, I gazed at an abandoned elevator beside a boarded-up house, wondering if the owner had finally become so fed up with all the flatness that he’d just left.

  By then we were both getting hungry, so I pulled into a gas station with a mini-mart. “Would you drive for a while now?” I asked, tucking my hair up in the cap.

  “Yeah, sure,” said Alex. “Are you going in?”

  “Just to use the restroom. ”

  “What kind of sandwich do you want — ham and cheese, right? And water to drink?”

  “Yeah, thanks. And you’ll be getting your coffee,” I teased. “You’re a complete caffeine addict, you know. You’d probably go into withdrawal without it. ”

  “Hey, I’ve got to have at least one vice,” he said with a grin. He started off across the pavement, his gait loose and relaxed.

  Smiling, I got out of the car and went around to the side of the gas station, where the restrooms were. When I’d finished, I splashed my face with cold water and went back out into the blinding heat. Alex hadn’t returned to the car yet, and as I headed toward it, I saw a pay phone to the side of the parking lot.

  My steps dwindled to a stop as I stared at it. They couldn’t track a pay phone, could they? I had some change in my bag; I could call Nina and find out whether Mom was OK. The temptation was almost unbearable. I had actually started for the phone when I hesitated, wondering if they might have tapped Nina’s cell phone. Could you do that?

  No, I thought. I can’t; it’s too risky. But almost doing it and then not was worse than never having spotted the pay phone at all. Ridiculously, I felt tears clutch at my throat. Angry with myself, I pulled off my sunglasses, swiping my eyes with the heel of my hand.

  “Hey. You OK?” said Alex. He was just coming across the parking lot, carrying our food. He frowned, his eyes on mine. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “It’s stupid. I was just really tempted to call Nina and see how Mom is. I didn’t,” I added hastily. “But I just . . . really wanted to. ”

  He looked like he understood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope she’s OK. ”

  I managed a smile. “Thanks. Me too. ” I took my sandwich from him, and we walked back to the Mustang. I could feel my hair about to slip down from the baseball cap, and before I got in, I put my sandwich on the roof so that I could redo the knot. I tossed my cap onto the roof, too, and started smoothing my hair with my hands.

  I glanced up as a gleaming silver pickup truck swung in to the space next to us. There was a couple sitting in the cab. The man had a bushy brown mustache; the woman, frosted blond hair that was stiff with hair spray. As I began twisting my hair up again, the woman looked over and our eyes met.

  Time seemed to slow down. Her face slackened in shock. I saw her mouth fall open, and then it was moving, forming words: It’s her.

  Panic burst through me. Oh, my God, I didn’t have my sunglasses on; I’d hooked them into the front of my T-shirt as we were walking back to the car. I leaped into the Mustang and slammed the door. “We’ve got to go,” I said, my words falling over themselves. “That woman saw me. ” Shoving my sunglasses back on, I saw her talking urgently to the man, pointing at me. He was leaning over her, squinting at the Mustang.

  Alex didn’t ask questions; he backed us out in a rush and floored it, squealing out of the gas station. I twisted around in my seat and saw my sandwich and cap bouncing over the concrete; the man had gotten out of the truck, staring after us. There was a Church of Angels sticker on the pickup’s bumper.

  And a rifle hanging in the cab.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” I whispered. I was shaking, my fingers cold. The man had to have noticed the New York plates on the Mustang; he’d know it was us. The last thing I saw before the gas station disappeared from view was him climbing back into his truck. My pulse thudded through my veins. Were they coming after us?

  A turnoff appeared; Alex took it, hurtling us onto a county highway. I watched out the back window. No sign of the truck. “Maybe we’ve lost them,” I said tentatively.

  “Maybe,” said Alex, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Except that they probably know every highway and back road around here. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that we’d leave the interstate. ”

  My hands clenched; I couldn’t stop trembling. “I’m so, so sorry,” I said. “I was so stupid —”

  He shook his head briefly. “Stop it — it’s not your fault the Church of Angels is full of whack-jobs. ”

  I huddled in my seat. The highway took us through a small, dusty town called Jasper. Miles passed, and then there was another small town called Fonda. Nobody seemed to notice us, and I started to hope that we’d really lost them. But then, a mile or so after we left Fonda, Alex looked in the rearview mirror again, his gaze lingering.

  “I think we’ve got company,” he said.

  “Is it them?” My throat tightened as I whipped around. Sure enough, there was a silver pickup truck cruising along behind us. Please, please let it be a different one, I prayed. But then it got closer and I saw that there were two people itting in the front: a man and a woman.