Harrison didn’t answer right away. Maybe he didn’t know. She guessed that Interstate 10 was somewhere in front of them, at the end of Route 13. At the moment, the road looked never ending, just another mile of flat highway and sunburned farmland to the sides. There were so few houses and nonexistent businesses that they might as well be traveling across another planet. Mars, maybe. Was Mars this hot?
“The kids said you were taking them to an island,” Harrison said. “The radio broadcast. You believe it. About the bloodsuckers not being able to cross bodies of water.”
“Yes,” she said.
Stall for time. That’s what Will would do. He would stall for time while he came up with other options. Because there are always options.
I just have to see it…
“It’s true,” Gaby continued. “Silver bullets. Bodies of water. They’re all true.”
“And ultraviolet?”
“I don’t know about that one.”
She couldn’t tell if he believed her. His face, in the rearview mirror, was placid. But then it always looked that way. Even back in the VFW basement when he admitted to beating Peter to within an inch of his life because he “had to be sure” Peter was telling the truth. There was a casualness about Harrison that bothered her. That, and a clear mean streak, a desire to inflict pain because he could. It was as simple as that. Some people, she had come to learn, were just born mean.
I’m going to kill you, Harrison. It’s just a matter of time.
She must have been staring at him without realizing it, because Harrison looked up at the rearview mirror and snickered at her reflection. “You want the shotgun? Go for it. It’s right there. All you have to do is grab it. What are you waiting for?”
She didn’t move. She didn’t reply and didn’t grab for the weapon.
What are my other options?
She was watching Harrison’s face when she picked up something in the distance. A slab of gray concrete rising out of the ground like some mirage. At first she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the longer she stared, the more certain she was that it was the real thing.
Interstate 10! Finally!
Harrison saw it too, and he eased the Dodge down to a slower rate of speed. It wasn’t just the interstate in front of them that got his attention, but also the outlines of businesses on both sides of the road. Gas stations, maybe even strip malls. They were still too far away — a mile? two? — to really make out any details, but after so much nothingness, the sudden appearance (silhouettes?) of civilization was unmistakable.
Then Harrison stopped the car completely and leaned forward against the steering wheel, peering out the dirty windshield. It took her a few seconds to see what he was looking at: men on horseback, loitering on the road near the buildings, still so far away that they looked more like slivers of shadows than actual figures.
The posse. L15…
She knew immediately who they were and wondered if Harrison did, too. By the way he was staring — part confused, part intrigued — she wasn’t so sure.
“They’re soldiers,” she said.
He didn’t respond. Had he even heard her?
“They’ll kill you,” Gaby said, thinking, And us, too. Or worse, they’ll take us back to the towns. Back to Josh. Back to the blood farms. Back to breeding for future generations of ghouls to feed on.
Harrison leaned back against his seat, his eyes still focused on the figures dancing across the highway toward them now. She could practically see through the back of his head to his mind as the gears turned, as he tried to come up with a new plan of action. The only path for him at the moment was to go backward. He couldn’t go around the soldiers, even if he could survive the ditches and attempt to go around them by using the open land. The Silverado hadn’t managed that feat, and it was a hell of a lot more powerful and sturdier than the car they were riding in at the moment.
Gaby looked over at Claire, saw the girl staring back at her. Waiting (begging?) for her to do something.
Options. What are my options?
The idea of staying another day with Harrison was too much. What would he do to her? To the girls? She couldn’t even understand why he kept her alive. Did he plan on using her for other purposes? She shivered at the thought.
The hell with that.
Gaby caught Claire’s eyes again and nodded her head slightly forward.
Claire gave her a questioning look: “What?”
She rocked forward slightly—just enough—to let Claire know what she wanted her to do. The girl stared back for a moment, then a light went off behind her eyes. She nodded back and grinned.
That’s my girl.
Gaby steeled herself, turning forward again. Harrison was still concentrating out the windshield, both hands on the steering wheel, a foot no doubt poised over the gas pedal just in case. He hadn’t put the car in neutral, which was smart of him. But he hadn’t put it in reverse yet, either.
She took a big breath and snapped a quick glance at the shotgun resting on the front passenger seat. She looked just with her eyes while keeping her head facing forward.
How far? About four feet of space between her and the weapon.
Just four feet.
She could do it.
It was just four feet…
“Now!” Gaby shouted.
Claire rammed her entire body (all eighty or so pounds of it) into the front seat. She was so small and slight that she didn’t get nearly as much force into it as Gaby would have liked, but it was enough to rock Harrison forward, knocking him momentarily off-balance. He must have also stepped on the accelerator involuntarily, because the Neon lurched forward a good three feet before he was able to jam down on the brake again.
Gaby threw herself between the two front seats. She reached forward with both handcuffed hands, lunging for the shotgun. When Harrison stepped on the gas pedal, the weapon actually swiveled toward her, decreasing the distance between her and it. But as soon as her fingers brushed against the stock, Harrison stepped on the brake and the shotgun slid forward and off the seat and onto the floor!
With no choice and her body already stuck between the two front seats, Gaby changed course and swung left at Harrison. She balled her handcuffed hands into fists a split-second before she slammed them into the side of his face. She wasn’t sure if that little stunt hurt him or her more, because both her arms and entire body were vibrating from the impact.
Keep moving! Keep moving, or you’re going to die!
Gaby shoved the rest of her body through the front seats, and with her knees braced against the armrest — one knee actually dipped inside a cup holder — she rained blows down on Harrison, summoning as much force as she could muster with each strike. Her entire body screamed and her broken nose felt as if it would break free from the rest of her face at any second.
Harrison was caught off-guard and seemed to be struggling with keeping the car from going forward and warding off her attack at the same time. If her blows were having any impact, he didn’t show it, especially when he swung his right (sharp) elbow and caught her in the chest. Stabbing pain flooded her, as if she had been impaled by a sword.
Well, at least he didn’t go for my nose again, she thought even as she fought through the bursting sensations and continued hitting him with her balled fists over and over again. Except now Gaby had begun using the steel handcuffs, angling the metal just right, in order to cut into Harrison’s temple and face with every successful contact.