01 Summoned-Summoned (28 page)

Why Syd this time? What sort of sadistic streak made Karl think this was a good idea?

Two feathered fowl with one chunk of mineral matter. He can rid of the girl who was obviously becoming a pest, while showing his greatest display of power over me: forcing me to hunt the one person I care about. I know he figured it out. I saw the expression on his face.

Even if I wanted to find Syd, I wouldn't know where to look. I have never been to her house. She goes to ASU, but I can't exactly storm the campus. I don't even know Coleen's last name to track her down for information.

But not knowing how to complete the task has never excused me from it. 

I start for the door, then halt and pat my pockets. No phone. Left it charging on the night stand. I trudge back to the room, unhook it from the adapter, and stuff it in my pant pocket.

The paper flutters to the floor. I reach down and pick it up, then unfold it again.

Santa Fe, New Mexico. Her grandmother's house. The place she always ran away to when she upset. Or scared.

I'm torn. Part of me wants to un-think the realization. But the other part of me is gloating.

I always figure it out.

***

I head east on I-10. Santa Fe is about an eight hour drive, and I have no intentions of flooring it. Not if I can help it. 

I contemplate dialing Syd, but I know myself better than that. For fuck's sake, I located Mark's kid and girlfriend in a two minute phone call. Any communication between Syd and I will be lethal. For her.

I blast the radio and maintain speed. 

I like Phoenix at night. The air is warm, but pleasant. Not like the grueling daylight sun. Traffic is light, but the roads are not vacant. Even a few stores are still open. Just the ones needed for a midnight snack run or box of condoms. The important things.

The hum remains in the background. It's pleased that I'm on my way. 

I'm still trying to find the loophole though. Maybe I'll just chase her around this damn country for a few days, then rationalize with Karl to call it off.

Except that would require Karl to be a rational man. A rational man wouldn't have made this wish to begin with.

Forty-five minutes of cyclic thoughts later, I'm out of the city and into the desert. Dark brush, a few semi-trucks. I keep a steady pace.

Before long, the desert grows into a forest. My eyes burn with a heat inside my skull, so I roll down the window in hopes of catching a cool breeze. The air is clean, crisp. 

I lean forward to glimpse the sky. The stars are big, bright dots in the black. I could lie with Syd out here. If I wasn't going to kill her and all.

The burning doesn't lessen. My vision wanders, not fading out but not really focusing on anything either. The car swerves. My hand jerks the wheel, and my attention snaps back to the road. Then my mind trails away again.

The car thuds over something, jarring my head. My brain squirms behind my eyes. I blink a few times and then squint, but I can't make out much. I think I'm on the side of the road, so I flounder for the emergency brake and climb out.

A cool breeze sneaks under my jacket, down my arms. It should be refreshing, but I'm burning up on the inside. The heat is radiating from my within my head, traveling down my spine, and flaring out.

I push myself up onto the hood of the car and tap my shoes against the tire. Payson shouldn't be much farther. Maybe I can rest there.

The hum growls in protest. I smack my palm to my head. The hum doesn't respond.

I wipe the sleeve of my jacket over my forehead and run my fingers through my hair. Ice water would be fantastic, but I wouldn't be able to keep it down anyway. I've already progressed too far.

The hum knows my brain is still warring between how to help Syd when I catch up with her and the quickest way to end this problem. 

Headshot.

The thought makes my stomach sick, but makes that devious piece of my brain giddy with excitement. Like Silvia going to McDonald's. Or drowning kittens.

I still don't understand how she could do that. Even at my most demented moments, the thrill is in keeping the hum away, not in taking a life. It's a fiending. The hit makes things normal again. I'll do anything for it.

Or, I thought I would do anything for it. I will find out for sure within the next twenty-four hours.

***

I stop at a gas station in Payson to fill the tank and buy a few ice cold bottles of water. Even if I can't drink them, clenching them is some relief against the fire inside.

I hold one of the bottles over my eyes, my head lying against the back of the seat. The window is rolled down. The temperature outside isn't even seventy degrees, but I feel like a dog stuck in a car in a desert summer.  

With a resigned sigh, I toss the bottle onto the passenger seat and pull out. I still have another five hours on the road. Probably longer because I'm driving below speed limit. I can't concentrate. Not with the sweat trickling into my eyes and the fever burning my brain.

I tell myself I'm going to kill Syd. As soon as I catch her, I'll put a permanent dot between her eyes. But each time I think that, I become more resistant to the idea. And each time I become more resistant to the idea, the fire inside burns a little hotter.

I pass through Heber. It's nice, with tall pine trees and flowing water. The type of place where people rent cabins. 

I pull over on the side of the road and step out. My soles crunch against the pine needles. Hot blades jab into my skull. I drop to my knees. My body leans forward, my head resting against the ground. I think I'm whispering, but I don't know what I'm saying. 

The blood rushing to my brain seems to make the pain worse, so I force myself to stand. I can barely see as I stumble forward. I have no idea where I'm going. I just want to escape the hum. It follows me. Everywhere.

I realize I'm shaking my head. I try to stop, but all I'm thinking is:

I can't do it. I won't hurt her.

And the hum punishes accordingly. It's not even a hum anymore. It's the crackling of fire, growing as it burns deeper into my mind.

My arm braces against a thick tree. I lean forward and dry heave. Each gag sends a jolt through my head, which in turn makes the pain—and heaving—worse. 

I open my eyes to the black sky. I'm lying on my back, throat burning and stomach smoldering. I know I didn't pass out though. The hum would never allow such reprieve.

With effort, I scramble to my feet and stumble toward the car still parked on the side of the road. Barely. Even the emergency brake isn't on.

I slide back inside and try to relax into the seat. I might as well be sitting on embers.

Coughing on stomach acid, I pull the car out and head down the road again.

This has to end eventually. I just have no idea how.

***

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.

The jolt shoots straight up. My head hits the steering wheel. The car swerves. I force myself upright and yank the car back into what I assume is the correct lane.

I'm still gasping because breathing hurts. My clothes are drenched in sweat and clinging to my skin. My eyes are burning, my vision blurred. My muscles are tightening into painful knots. The pressure in my skull is building even though I can't imagine it getting worse until it does.

Every disobedient thought—about saving Syd, about murdering Karl and Silvia, about driving off a ravine and ending this—jolts my brain. Yet the zaps just piss me off, make me convinced that I won't bow down this time.

I can barely keep my head up. My eyelids struggle to stay open.

I slow the car as I enter Gallup, New Mexico because the last thing I need is to be pulled over. I'll pass the sobriety test, but I might be unfriendly if they try to detain me.

My logic is slippery.

I turn into a parking lot and attempt not to clip any of the other vehicles as I slide into a space. Pretty sure this is a hotel. My hand goes to my eyes, but the contact is searing. I'm smoldering to the point I can't even touch my own skin. 

Maybe I'm coming into my super powers. I am the goddamn Human Torch. 

I step out of the car and head for the lobby. If I can get a room, sleep for a few hours, maybe I can take this on again. Maybe I can formulate a plan to help Syd escape me.

Inside the lobby, I lay my wallet on the counter and fumble for the credit card and driver's license. 

The clerk asks something.

“One,” I say, assuming he wanted to know how many people were staying or how many beds I needed.

He studies me, then shrugs and takes the cards. I don't know who I am today.

After a moment, he hands back my cards along with the door key. And a map. He hands me a freakin' map. Like I can read the damn thing.

I amble back to the parking lot. In the lamp glow, I squint until I make out the walkways. Then I stagger down the path, though I have no idea where I'm going.

Each step rattles my brain. I clench my teeth and clomp onward.

Someone speaks behind me. I halt, because turning too fast is going to cost me a few hit points.

A man comes around to my front. “Sir, can I help you?”

I thrust the map at him. I've forgotten how to speak.

“Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

I shake my head. My neck stiffens, my brain tilts.

He rests his hand on my shoulder and guides me down the walk. I set into a pace of step-cringe-step-grimace. Then he presses me back. We stand in silence.