to light and guard

chapter twenty nine

The late evening setting sun beamed in through the windows of the car, the radio humming a dull, static-laden melody. In the back seat, Gus sprawled out, whole body spread out, muzzle propped up on the door so he could watch all the snow-covered scenery pass by through the window. Mary Eunice reclined against Lana's body, eyes lazing, soft snores fluttering from her nose. She'd drifted off a few hours ago, and Lana had no intentions of waking her. Of course, Lana's intentions seldom worked as planned. As she pressed the gas to accelerate up an icy hill, the head of blonde hair stirred and lifted her from her shoulder. She took her fists and rubbed her eyes. "Morning, sunshine," Lana teased, flashing a halfhearted smile.

Mary Eunice didn't reciprocate, blinking through groggy eyes from behind her mop of tangled hair. "You're not going to make it up this hill."

The answer delayed Lana's response. She frowned and glanced back to the street in front of her. "What do you—Oh, dear god." The car began to slide backward down the street. Lana planted her foot on the brakes. "Hold on." The car whirled around, skidding sideways back down the road. "Shit!" Mary Eunice braced against her, gripping her thigh while the other hand pressed against the door. Lana swung the steering wheel again, futilely seeking a grip on the icy road, but it didn't work; her car continued to rotate, spinning and slipping beyond her control. She let go of the steering wheel to let it correct itself. The car made two complete rotations, three, and smashed into a snowbank on the side of the road, pointing the opposite direction.

They hovered in silence for a moment, both white-faced in disbelief, Mary Eunice's lips buffering into a silent prayer though her eyes stretched wide, like she feared the car would start moving again if she blinked, if she allowed herself a brief reprieve for peace. Once the prayer had stuttered to a halt and she made the Sign of the Cross, Lana said in a faint voice, "Thanks for the warning."

Mary Eunice eased from her tense position and slid beside Lana, releasing a shaky, pent up breath. "Where are we? What time is it?"

"It's—It's almost seven. We're somewhere in New Jersey." Lana leaned back in her seat with a long sigh. "I'm sorry, that wasn't a very good awakening. I was looking for a rest stop. Gus is going to have to get out again soon." She stared out at the darkening landscape, resting in the snowbank. Her hands shivered; her head spun with a dizzy sort of hunger. How long had she gone without a meal? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember how long they had been in this godforsaken car—she couldn't remember what hour they had set off that morning, though it seemed like ages ago.

Mary Eunice put a hand to the back of her head. "You feel a little warm. Have you eaten? I packed snacks."

Lana shook her head. "No, I—I'm fine. I need to focus on driving."

An unhappy purse of disapproval donned on Mary Eunice's lips. "You must be exhausted. C'mon, scoot over. Let me drive for awhile." She nudged Lana from the driver's seat and eased behind the wheel, shifting gears and sliding back out of the snowbank with relative ease. "Which way was the rest stop?"

Once they had found the place, Lana filled the gas tank while Mary Eunice walked Gus; he limped through the snow and relieved himself, all too unhappy with the whole situation of the frost-covered earth. Mary Eunice skated down the sidewalk in her shoes, arms spiraling through the air to keep her balance. "The bathrooms are over there." She nodded in the right direction and helped Gus back into the car. "Be careful. The sidewalks are slippery."

Mary Eunice waited for Lana to return in the driver's seat of the car, fiddling with the radio so the dull crackling faded into clear voices singing through at her. She stopped at a heavy drum and guitar beat. A man's voice, tenor and light, rang out. "Come right back, I just can't bear it! I've got some love and I long to share it. Come right back, right back where you belong." The song faded out to the radio announcer's voice. "And that was the top hit of last year, still doing strong for the Honeycombs, 'Have I the Right'." Mary Eunice leaned her head back on the seat, gazing up at the ceiling of the car. The last rays of sunlight slipped from view behind heavy night clouds. "You know, I really do like the Honeycombs. Honey Lantree is looking fine on those drums. But this group just hasn't managed to get another hit! Not for lack of trying, of course. Up next, we've got Herman's Hermits and 'Can't You Hear My Heartbeat'. Merry Christmas, folks, and stay warm."