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His wrist shifted, providing me with the two options of letting him crush my windpipe or leaning my head back. I leaned back. He slipped two of his massive long fingers up around the joints of my jaw the way you force a cat to take a pill, and he poured the liquid down my gullet.
The last thing I remembered before waking was that it was not like the first brew. It was almost sweet and not half so bad, which didn't make it good, but I didn't gag on it, either.
"What are you doing to me with this stuff?" I gurgled as the room started to fold in upon itself.
I'm getting you ready for it. I'm making you strong.
8
In Search of Lost Time
I awakened alone in my own car, in the passenger side. Brilliant lights were shining down into my face, though it was clearly nighttime. 9:03, according to the dashboard clock. I blinked a dozen times and wiped at my eyes, then opened them enough to realize that my car was parked beside a gas pump, and that I was beneath the neon and fluorescent advertisements of a large truck stop. The dense, sharp stink of gasoline crept up my nostrils and made me dizzier still than I already was.
Harry's face appeared at the driver's-side window. He juggled with a bag and my keys, opened the door, and climbed in beside me.
"Doughnut? Or chips? Soda? I thought you might be hungry when you woke up. "
I stared stupidly at the bag, and at Harry. Food. Yum? "Give me a minute," I mumbled, adjusting the seat belt to wear a new and less painful groove into my shoulder. At least he'd thought to strap me in. "Where are . . . how long have . . . what . . . ?"
He removed a candy bar and set the brown paper bag with the extra food on the floor at my feet. After locating the drinkholders, he set his soft drink aside and put the key in the ignition. "Well, let's see. You've been asleep all day. I took your car because if I'd taken Eliza's she would have probably reported it stolen and then we'd really be screwed. I went back to your hotel, paid for another night so I could get some rest, then put you back in the car and started out about two hours ago. "
"I slept through all that?"
"Yes, and all this while I've been toting you around like a sack of potatoes. Allow me to add that you're heavier than you look. "
"Thanks. Lotsa muscle. Meat on my bones, or something. " I squirmed in the seat and rolled my head and shoulders back and forth, trying to crack my neck. It didn't work. The stiffness remained, and so did my bewilderment. In the near distance I saw a stream of steady headlights that suggested an interstate. The presence of half a dozen other gas stations and fast-food stops supported that assessment, and furthermore hinted that we were at an exit. "Where are we?" I asked, hoping to learn something more specific about our location.
"Somewhere in south Georgia. I don't think we've hit Tifton, but we will soon. "
"Why . . . why are we driving through Georgia?" I asked, though the obvious answer was "To get to Florida," because that's really the only reason anyone ever drives through south Georgia.
"Because it's rather hard to get to Florida without doing so," Harry confirmed. "Well, unless you're coming from the west. Or unless you want to go many hours out of your way. Or I suppose you could swim for it. But in the interest of efficiency, we're taking the direct route. "
"Why are we . . . oh. " Yes, the letter.
He cleared his throat and looked both ways before he pulled out towards the interstate and into the merging traffic. "I didn't have any better ideas, and you seemed pretty sure there was something important in Highlands Hammock. I thought it might be worth achance to see. Actually, I thought I'd head for St. Augustine first. There's a whole library full of reference materials at the church. Perhaps we can find a good starting point there. It's not that far out of the way, anyway. Just a few hours. "
"Oh. "
I couldn't complain. His plan was as good as anything I could have come up with, maybe better. I didn't tell him about the man in the dark room, for fear he'd assume it was a dream or my imagination. Instead, I rode beside him in silence for a time, trying to get my thoughts to line up in a row. It half worked. I had a half plan hatching, and a half idea of what might be going on farther down south than I'd ever been before.
Never before? Could that be right? No.
Even as I turned the thought over I sensed it couldn't be. I was born and bred in the Tennessee mountains, on the banks of the river that runs through the rocks, but I knew somehow about green-gray mud and stubby cypress knees. I knew the rotting stench of an alligator's hole and the way the dull, curly moss hung down from the tree limbs to trail lazily in the water. I knew . . . I knew many things I shouldn't have. Things I didn't learn from the Discovery Channel or from Hollywood.
And strangest of all, I thought I knew who was waiting for me.
I just didn't know what he wanted.
9
Unbearable Lightness
We arrived at St. Augustine around midnight, and the city was completely quiet.
I was tired of being asleep, and I was happy that we'd soon be out of the car. I don't like long trips unless I'm driving, and I wasn't feeling well enough to demand that Harry hand over the keys. My stomach lurched with every bump we took, and my eyeballs rocked about in my skull, settling on strange, small things, but refusing to focus on the road in front of us. It was better to let him act the chauffeur, especially considering that he knew where we were going and I didn't. And the
n I could continue to sleep off and on, with the seat leaned as far back as I could get it, and my head lolling every time I nodded off. It's a terrible way to doze, and it left me cranky and restless, itching to get free of the vehicle.
