"Tell it to shut up, or I swear to God, I'll shoot it in the face!"
"Ace, mohlchyats!"
The dog didn't listen. Sitting in the passenger seat, he kept barking at the corpses of the Secret Service as if he were trying to wake them up, impassioned by the smell of blood.
"Ace, zatknees!"
Ace snarled and bent down his head in frustration, letting Clapton sing Cocaine from the speakers. Abel removed his right hand from the steering wheel to stroke the dog behind the ears, while Light, in the back seat, stared through the glass at the road they were leaving behind.
"See anything?" asked Garrard.
"Nothing. No one's trailing us."
Abel looked at his watch.
"OK, it's been an hour now. You can stop looking unless I tell you to."
Light looked forward again, calmer now. She then fully acknowledged her seat between two suited corpses, their faces bathed in coagulated blood that splashed across their sunglasses. It was then that she realized she had already broken death in, accepting it around her with absolute soberness since she had been forced, for the first time, to kill the two spies at Skyler's house just hours ago. She had done so in self-defense, but somewhere inside her, she knew this was how things actually were, and she knew she should retain this new vital attitude at least for the rest of the trip, simply to keep from becoming a hindrance. Even so, she couldn't help yearning for who she had been before it all happened. To be herself again. The woman drinking coffee that morning on her way to work, however recently, felt like nothing but a fading mirage behind the haze of a magnified time lens. It was as if fate had split her soul in two, rendering her unable to pull her two selves together to make her whole again. As if she had to pick a side. The side who asked how the world was, and the side who knew how it actually was. Maybe she should remain this way for the rest of her life. Maybe this was who she really was.
"You haven't said a thing about cleaning the blood off these two. Don't you worry they might draw any attention?"
"The windows are tinted. No one can see anything from the outside. Besides, the police won't dare pull us over, thinking I'm moving one of the President's lovers or something. But if someone reports a Secret Service car passing by, we'll be in serious trouble. That's why we ought to avoid crowded roads. And, just in case, we can't just kick them both out of the car or throw away any luggage. We can't leave any trace."
Light suddenly remembered the diplomatic pouch.
"Speaking of luggage, there was a suitcase where they put my stuff."
Garrard opened the glove compartment and pulled out the pouch.
"Here," he said, stretching his arm backwards.
"Thanks."
Light put the pouch on her thighs and unlatched the hasp, noting that the Daruma, the Zippo, and the gun were still there. With indescribable relief, she put them back in their respective jacket pockets, feeling complete again. She removed her hair scrunchie with a warm feeling of victory and, for the first time, rested her head on the seat back.
The car marched on through the deserted road, crossing that empty wasteland which seemed like the sky itself would crush it at any time.
"Now what? Where are we going?"
"We're gonna meet my boss. It's something I had planned to do for quite some time, but he told me to take you with me."
"So, you're taking me because the dates overlapped."
YOU ARE READING
King Acid
Historical FictionA young man wakes up in the desert. He doesn't remember anything, not even his name. But he does recall the face of a young woman. And somehow he knows she is somewhere out there looking for him. He stands up over the dry sand and resolves to find...
