The next town I am coherent enough to catch the name of is Holbrook. It is nothing like the last two towns with their trees and water. Holbrook is flat dirt.
I pull to the curb. My throat is so dry it hurts to swallow, like it's infected. I need water. Even if it doesn't stay down, any water has to help.
I grab one of the bottles. It still feels cool to the touch, though it's probably room temperature by now. I'm burning like a whore in hell.
The chilled air outside of the car does little for me except contrast how warm I am on the inside. I'm stiff as though I've had a fever and been at the gym all day.
My fingers are weak as I twist off the bottle cap and chug the water. My stomach churns. I close my eyes and take slow, deep breaths. It doesn't help.
The hum could switch things up any time now. Freeze me for a while. Stab at my head. Just knock off this burning.
But it knows how intensely I don't want to do what I'm being sent to do. This isn't like the first kill, when I felt morally obligated to resist. This isn't like Mark, either, when I was just tired of being the bad guy.
This is deeper. Profound. I would rather the genie bond kill me than for me to ever harm Syd. The bond is going to keep pushing me to that cliff. I don't know what happens if I fall over the edge.
When I find Syd, I will tell her to run. She's a smart woman. She'll stay ahead of me. We will do this forever, even if the burning never lets up.
Someone is speaking to me. I lift my head from the ground. I'm on my knees again, though I don't remember falling.
I squint to see. A tall, fit Native American man is staring down at me. He's scowling. I think he's worried.
I'm fuckin' worried.
“Do you need help?” His voice is stern, genuine.
I try to shake my head, but the motion just stirs the flames.
He says more, maybe asking me questions. All I can do is shake my head, then wince and grind my teeth and rock until the searing ebbs. Just a little.
He reaches down to help me up. I can't stand on my own, so he takes all the weight and holds me upright. He's still talking. I have no idea what he's saying.
I think if he is in contact with me too long, he will start to burn too. He doesn't know. He doesn't deserve that.
My thoughts are getting jumbled.
I shake him off and stagger back to the car. He waves his arms at me, flagging me to stop. I swallow hard despite how my throat is scorched, then pull the car out and blow by him.
Time has become irrelevant, but I will be in New Mexico sooner rather than later.
I hope I'm wrong about Syd. That I read too much into her stories. But I know she's in Santa Fe. And I'm positive she knows I'm coming.
***
Flat land stretches before me. I don't even know if it's desert. I can barely see.
My sweaty fingers fumble for the radio. The speakers blare. I'm sure it's the usual music but I don't recognize any of it. Sounds like static. After a few minutes or a few hours, I turn off the radio.
Pressure builds in my sinuses. I touch a hand under my eye and wince. I feel like I shouldn't be able to breathe, but I can. It just causes sharp little pains to shoot through my face. So I try not to inhale, and wind up gasping instead.
The pressure grows, filling my head. Pushes against my skull from the inside. My eyes water, but I can't see much anyway so it doesn't even matter. I keep driving, though I doubt I'm going the speed limit at this point. Or maybe I am. Hard to tell.
I'm isolated in my little bubble of misery.
Ever onward.
Lights blare into my eyes. I'm unable to make out where it's coming from, but I know Arizona and I know that's a semi. So I try to change lanes, the tires thumping over something. I have no idea where I am. Not entirely sure I'm even going the right direction.
The lights fade. I step on the gas. Terrible idea since I'm driving mostly blind, but I make out the curves enough to stay somewhere on the asphalt.
A sign looms up ahead. I struggle to read the words, partly because I can't see and partly because I forget how letters work. Then I put it together.
The sign is New Mexico welcoming me to their state.
If they only knew.
I force a quick calculation from my smoldering brain. Three or four hours before I reach Santa Fe. Not a clue what I'm going to do when I get there though.
I will not kill Syd.
The burning, the pressure, none of it is even close to the pain of waking up with Syd's blood on my hands.
Screw the genie bond.
More jolts race down my limbs until they are weak.
Screw Karl.
The jolts converge in my spine with white-hot pain.
If I could, I would kill the Walkers. Every last one of them.