More than once, I hear the sounds of cars racing by. My gaze keeps lifting upward, searching for the noises.
I bump into a stopped Quill. Despite his disappointed frown, I’m only interested in finding comfort. My mind races with possible threats, and I struggle against the urge to run into the highway. Much like in the basement, voices call out to me and promise a quick death.
Quill roughly places my hand against his cheek. The coarse stubble awakens a warm, inviting sensation inside me. I smile relieved at him. He doesn’t smile back, but I notice his frown ease.
We begin walking again. Every time the voices tempt me to run into the highway, I caress my cheek in the way my fingers did against his face. Though I don’t feel grounded in this world, Quill is as much a part of the Lost Highway as the road and mile-high trees. He’s anchored here, and I can survive as long as he keeps me close.
Chapter Nineteen
Quill
Tom told me about the outpost on the first night I spent at the cabin. He loved sharing information. Thinking back, I realize he expected me to protect him. I’d only assumed at the time he wanted me to hunt down new trophies for him because he was too lazy to do it himself.
Using my rifle scope, I search for movement on the other side of the highway. I rarely use my guns anymore, considering how rare bullets are here. Besides, I find killing up close and personal more rewarding.
I glance back at Odessa and find her staring at my back rather than keeping watch. I don’t think she even sees me. Soon, she’ll lose too much of her mind, and no amount of comfort will bring her back. Remembering how her body felt close to mine, I both hope for and fear the day I lose her.
The outpost mimics the sky bound corner store visible on sunny days. Today is overcast, and I worry about a storm. In her current state, Odessa wouldn’t do well in the woods overnight. Hurrying toward the store, I focus my mind on the task.
The air is rich with the aroma of cooking meat. Odessa shows no interest in the odor. She no longer asks for food at all. I took two days to stop eating here, but Odessa held on longer to the old ways.
The scavengers at the outpost hold onto the old ways too. They leave the “Welcome” sign on the front door even though there’s nothing welcoming about their demeanors. Ana’s been in the Lost Highway longer than many current residents, and her ruddy, cracked skin shows hints of peeling away. While she’s kept her basic sanity, her humanity long ago disappeared.
Pedro is her partner. I don’t know how they met, or if they like each other. During one of my visits, Ana was alone. When I returned, she was with Pedro. He still smiles occasionally, but the humor never reaches his hollowed eyes. They share the same sunken gazes as most Death Dealers.
Entering today, I’m bothered by their eyes like I’ve never been before. I see the same glossiness in Odessa’s gaze, and I’m not ready for her to go away yet. Behind me, she hesitates before walking into the small store. Her nose crinkles as she notices the smell, and I see her gaze searching mine for reassurance.
“We get supplies and then leave,” I tell her.
Odessa nods, but she isn’t fully with me. Her eyes lose focus, and she stops grimacing at the meat odor.
At the front counter, Ana stares at me with her hungry eyes and wonders if I brought her anything good.
“What do you need?” she asks, and Pedro walks out from the back.
“Do you have anything fresh?” I ask Ana.
“We got some peaches that didn’t rot yet. I think an apple or two are still good.”
I walk to a wooden box where I pick through rotten fruit to find the few remaining decent ones. I show each one to Ana, so she’ll know what I’m taking.
“What do you need fruit for?” she asks, eyeing my rifle.
“Do you have any music or movies?”
Pedro shows me a box filled with DVDs and CDs. Nearby, Odessa stares at a car seat. I know she’s wondering what happened to the kid. I grab her by the arm and tug her over to me.
“Pick something to listen to and watch.”
Odessa stares at me, and I fight the urge to shake her. Instead, I cup her cheek. When my thumb runs over her chapped bottom lip, Odessa’s eyes flood with emotion. She’s immediately back with me as if awaken from a trance.
“How many can I take?”
“I have enough to pay for whatever you want.”
While Odessa flips quickly through the DVDs, I keep an eye on Ana.
“How much would you want for her?” Pedro asks me. “We got a police dog now. We could trade.”
Odessa glances at them and asks, “What can the dog do?”
“Hunt,” Ana says. “Watch for Death Dealers.”
“I can do that stuff too,” Odessa says to me, and I frown until realizing she’s joking. “I can also lift my leg and pee on stuff.”
Ana doesn’t smile while Pedro laughs for too long. I hear him giggling even after Odessa shows me the CDs and a single DVD she chose.