Thomas blinked.
“And that’s if you wanted it yesterday. Now we need thousands of them. Have you forgotten your own screenplay?”
Honestly, he was surprised she had read the script closely enough to remember such detail.
“Whatever plan the Army has isn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. We may as well be on our own.”
The turnpike turned out to be so empty that for much of the stretch Thomas pushed the speedometer to near eighty. Even when the road ended at Henryetta, when they entered U.S. 75 again, stalled traffic remained sparse compared to the same highway in Texas. By this point nearly all drivers had abandoned their vehicles and were walking in the median or on the shoulder, some headed north, some south. Many of them gestured to Thomas to stop, but he avoided eye contact as much as possible.
When they eventually approached Tulsa, a diffuse cloud of black smoke rose from the horizon and widened as they grew closer. Once again the road became congested with stalled cars.
“So how are we going to find her place?” asked Skylar.
“I think I see a gas station up there,” he answered, pointing. “I’ll stop and see if they have a Tulsa city map.”
“All right.”
Eventually, on the east side of the road, a Conoco sign resolved itself. A small crowd of people loitered in the parking lot.
“I know it was my idea to come here,” Skylar said. “I’m the one who said survival wasn’t enough, and now I’m talking like there’s no point to anything. I’m sure that’s confusing.”
Thomas nodded.
“But all I’ve been able to think about on this trip is your screenplay. You wrote this shit and then it happened, which is already weird and disturbing. Then it turns out you were right. Everything so far has happened like it did in the opening pages of your script. And if you keep being right, it means the ending will also be the same, which is Everyone Dies™, the end. So even though I think we should help Seth and Natalie, at the moment I feel torn between trying to survive and giving up. Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“So let’s see if we can find that map.”
In the Conoco parking lot, several overweight men wearing various patterns of plaid shirts and dirty jeans stood near a row of disabled pickup trucks. Another fellow was slightly less heavy, dressed in a black golf shirt and gray slacks. Above them, the sky was gray with smoke.
“So I’ll stay in the car,” Skylar said, “while you run in and get the map.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with a bunch of men we don’t know.”
“Didn’t we just talk about this? You think one of them is going to abduct me while you’re inside?”
Thomas rolled his eyes. He reached under his seat for the gun and shoved it into his pants.
“That’s a mighty fine vehicle you got there,” said one of the men when Thomas shut off the ignition. “First runnin’ car we seen since that red pickup went by.”
“Texas plates, too,” said another man. “You must be far away from home, boy.”
Thomas opened his door and climbed out. He looked at the men and smiled.
“Here to help a friend. How are you guys?”
“Been better,” said one. “I’m supposed to be on a rig down in Okmulgee this morning, but instead I’m stuck here. Want to give me a ride? Behind your pretty lady?”
“We just came through Okmulgee,” Thomas said. “And now we’re going the other direction, I’m sorry to say.”
“You come all the way from Texas?” said another man. “Same thing going on down there as here?”
“Dallas is on fire. Planes down everywhere.”
The man whistled ominously.
“If it’s like this everywhere,” he said, “we’re in for some shit.”
Thomas shot a look at Skylar, who smiled as if today was a day like any other. Against his better judgment, he turned away and went into the store, where he found a wary-looking man standing behind a counter that was cluttered with cigarette boxes and ads for Red Bull and a messy pile of spent lottery tickets among silver shavings.
“I got me four winners,” said the man. “One of them is five grand. I’ll sell it to you for a hundred bucks right here and now.”
“No, thanks. But I’ll take a Tulsa city map if you’ve got one.”
The man pointed to a stand of maps behind a giant plastic tub of beef jerky.
“Sure do,” said the man. “Hundred bucks cash.”
“Excuse me?”
“Supply and demand, mister. I got the supply and you got the demand. You want the map or not?”
Thomas grunted. He’d put a small amount of cash in his pocket and kept the bulk of it in the car.
“Well shit,” said the man as he watched Thomas flip through bills. “Any man who’ll pay a hundred bucks for a map can probably afford two.”
When Thomas went back outside, the men had moved closer to his car. The fellow in the golf shirt was leaning against the passenger door.
“Didn’t know we were in the presence of the Hollywood elite,” said the man. “I hear you’re the guy who wrote that movie about himself and got rich off it.”
“It was luck,” Thomas said. “Now if you’ll excuse us—”
“Miss Skylar and me was just getting acquainted. Really she was getting acquainted with all of us. Weren’t you, sugar?”
But the alarm in Skylar’s eyes was obvious.
“Sorry,” he said. “We need to get going.”
“I don’t know,” the man in the golf shirt replied. “I don’t think we’re ready to—”
Thomas reached into his pants and pulled the gun free. He didn’t point it anywhere in particular, but the man in the golf shirt jumped as if he’d been bitten.
“Hey!” he said. “No call for a gun. It’s not every day people like us get to meet a famous actress.”
“I was polite before. Please back away so we can get going.”
“You ain’t the only one who’s carrying,” said one of the other men. “You best be careful if you come through here again, Tex.”
“I have no quarrel with any of you,” Thomas said. “But we’re on our way to help someone.”
“‘Quarrel,’” said another of the men. “You sound just like one of them elitists.”
But the men made no further move to harass them, and soon Thomas and Skylar were back on the highway.
“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Is that what it’s like to live here?”
“This is what it’s like when they don’t have to pretend anymore.”
As Thomas drove closer to Tulsa, Skylar studied the map and eventually deciphered the nomenclature of city streets. The east-west streets were numbered. The north-south streets were given alphabetic names. To his relief, one of these was named Braden. The intersection of 77th and Braden seemed to be where Natalie’s house would be located.
And finally, nearly eight hours after the appearance of the new star, Thomas stopped the Mustang in front of an idyllic residence that did not betray the adversity that had corrupted its interior. The grass, freshly mowed, was a dark and dense green. Flowers bloomed in weedless beds near the front porch and spilled onto the lawn. The window shutters and front door had been given a fresh coat of paint. It was obvious someone cared about this house. Someone was proud of it.
“Thomas?” Skylar said.
He turned and looked at her.
“Shouldn’t we hurry up? This is a hell of a lot of smoke.”
She gestured upward, and Thomas was alarmed to find the sky almost completely overcast. The smoke was so thick, in fact, he could barely make out the new star, which by now was in the western sky and starting downward. The acrid odor tickled his nose.
“I’m wondering what’s going on inside the house.”