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“She’s great. A great mom. When we get to a town, I’m out of here. I’m going back, dude. If the world ends, it ends. You’re on your own.”
“Whatever. Just keeping looking, all right?” I walk left and Gonzo goes right.
I feel like I’ve been swallowing stones. My muscles ache and my legs are heavy. The air is thick with the smells of cow dung, tractor exhaust, road dust, flowers, and something else. My eyes sting and my throat’s irritated. Smoke. Could be crops burning. Small brush fire, maybe. So why is the hair on the back of my neck creeping to attention?
I whirl around, searching for the source. In the distance, Gonzo’s silhouette flickers around the edges, distorted by the squiggles of heat rising from the road. I start to call out, but my feet are summer-sidewalk hot. I hop back just as small puncture holes pop up along the ground. There’s a hiss from below, and before I can shout a warning, the asphalt splits open with the force of a geyser. Steam, smoke, and flames shoot into the sky. The force of it knocks me back a few feet. I land hard, feeling the sting as my shirt is torn and my back is bloodied by gravel. One by one, the fire giants crawl out of the broken road and push themselves up. In the time it takes me to gasp, they zoom up to about eight feet and fan out into positions like loyal soldiers. The way ahead is consumed by an orange wall of heat.
“Gonzo!” I yell, but I can’t see him. It’s too bright.
The fire giants stare down at me with their baleful eyes, and I feel myself sinking. I don’t even know how to fight these guys. There’s a stick on the road. I grab it and start swinging, Star Fighter style. The fire gods seem to find it amusing. They throw their heads back in a laughing howl that makes me shiver. One of them darts his head forward and flicks a serpentlike tongue around the stick. A red glow shoots up the wood. With a hiss, I drop it fast and it disintegrates.
Several slink forward on all fours and sniff me. One growls. They’re through f**king around. Their breath heats my skin. Suddenly, they pull up short. A van’s cruising down the road. The sun’s reflecting off the windshield. I have to put my hand to my eyes to block the glare.
“Hey!” I shout, waving my arms. “Over here! Help!”
I try to crawl toward it, but a fire giant blows me back. My body screams in pain as I tumble along the pavement. I try to get up but I can’t.
“Gonzo!” I croak.
The fire god pries open my mouth and covers it with his. He breathes out, filling my lungs with choking smoke. My body shakes. Somebody’s pushing against my chest in a hard rhythm.
“Page Dr. Xavier!” Glory shouts. I’m on a gurney, watching the fluorescent ceiling lights strobe over me fast. Mom’s running alongside, trying to keep one hand on the metal rail. She looks worried. I’m pushed through wide doors. More lights. Hard on my eyes. God, my body hurts so bad. Like I’m being burned with lit matches.
I fight to clear my head.
“Give me suction now!” somebody calls. And then I hear my name again and again.
“Cameron!” It’s Gonzo’s yelling. He’s running up the road. “Dude—watch out!”
The next thing I know, I’m on the pavement of Farm Route 44 with a van headed right for me. I shut my eyes tight. There’s a screech of braking tires. I can smell the scorched rubber and the pungent mix of hot gasoline and motor oil. When I open my eyes, my head is an inch from the front bumper. I see feet running toward me.
“Is he okay?” A girl crouches next to me. She’s pretty in a neohippie sort of way. Her T-shirt reads CESSNAB CRUSADERS.
A guy in a baseball cap comes over and checks me out, shining a little flashlight in my eyes, checking my pupils. He’s got the same CESSNAB shirt on. They all do. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed, friend. Can you stand up?”
The guy helps me to my feet, but I’m shaking all over and I have to lean against him to walk.
“Easy there, friend. Do you live around here? Where are your parents?”
“Holy shit!” Gonzo says, running up. “Dude, you okay?”
The guy in the baseball cap frowns. “Friend, could I ask you to watch your language? There are ladies present.”
Gonzo looks like somebody just took the pudding snack out of his lunch box. “Uh, sure. Sorry.”
“I think you should come back with us,” the guy says, turning back to me. “We’ve got a doctor at our compound who can make sure you don’t have a concussion or something else nasty, okay?”
I nod and it’s like a tiny revolver has fired inside my skull, pinging every part of my head with pain bullets.
“What’s your name, friend?”
“Why do you want to know?” Gonzo asks.
The guy holds up his hands. “I only want to help, friend.”
“I’m Cameron,” I say. “And this is Gonzo.”
“I’m Daniel.” The guy shakes my hand, which also hurts. He introduces the others, including the hippie girl, whose name is Ruth. “I’m just gonna move stuff around, get the van ready. Be right back.”
