“It's nice. Constant.” Once upon a time, Peter said the beat of my heart was nice. That was a very long time ago.
“You know you can't kill me.” I feel the need to remind him of this, since he just talked about my beating heart. I'd like to keep it that way until the time I decided to become a noctalis, which shouldn't be too far in the future. If I had anything to say about it. Also, if both of us got out of this mostly unscathed. I would not want to be scathed.
“Yes love, I know.” He chuckles, which is a much nicer sound than his laugh, but still makes me wish I didn't have ears. I also wish he would stop calling me love. Endearments were reserved for Peter and my mother. Sometimes Jamie. Tex only used insults as endearments.
“What about Tex?”
“I believe Viktor is with her.” He pauses for a moment, looking down at me as if to judge whether he should continue. I guess I am deemed worthy. “She looks remarkably like Adele, you know.”
“What?” No one had told me that. It certainly explained a lot. “You thought now, in the middle of the valiant rescue, now, was a good time to tell me that?”
“I was making conversation.”
“Well, talk about something else.”
“What shall I talk about?”
“I don't know.” I cast around my head for something, anything. Anything that wouldn't make me think of Peter. It was a really short list. “What are your opinions on nuclear proliferation? Or, uh, zombies. What is your opinion on the preparedness of humans for the zombie apocalypse?”
“Zombie apocalypse?”
“That's what I said.” Peter and I had never discussed it. Even though it was an important issue. I wait for him to answer.
“From what I have heard, surrounding the house with outward-facing treadmills is most popular, but the fly in that ointment would be constantly powering the treadmills.”
I'm stunned, but only for a moment.
“Exactly! Since all the power will go down, and everyone will probably be on generators. I've told Tex that a hundred times, but she just keeps going on about how you could stock up on generators ahead of time. But who does that? You can't prepare for the zombie apocalypse.”
Turns out Ivan is kind of a Chatty Cathy. Who knew? I mean, after the whole neck-squeezing incident, I would have told you he would as soon talk to me as ride a pink unicorn. Saddle up, cowboy.
As the pain recedes and I get giddier, Ivan gets more wary. I can tell the way his eyes dart, and how he slows down a bit.
“Where the hell are we?” Somehow we'd crossed the highway three times, but had managed to avoid major cities and even residential areas.
“According to a sign a few miles back, Baltimore, Vermont.”
“I've never heard of it.”
“Neither have I.” He stops for a moment.
“What are you doing?”
“Stopping for a moment.”
“You didn't lose the trail, did you?”
“I am not sure.” I close my eyes. Fantastic. So much for the noble steed. I close my eyes and reach out to to Peter.
“That way.” I close my eyes and point.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. Don't question. Just run.” I open my eyes. He's looking at me in a way I can't figure out. I get the feeling that he was testing me. Just seeing if I could do it. I don't let on that I know. I close my eyes and hold on.
I give him directions the rest of the way. I think he goes wrong a few times on purpose, just to see if I will correct him. I can tell this isn't a selfless mission. He thinks he's getting something out of it. Well, everyone wants something. And he wants something from Peter. I can't even begin to wonder where he's going with that. The only thing that matters is Peter. Getting to him. We'll figure out the rest later.
When we go over the border into South Carolina, I know we aren't far. I am so stiff from my burrito position, and I really, really want to stretch my legs. It will have to wait and I hope that when the time comes for me to stand tall, my legs will carry me.
“What are we going to do when we find him?”
“I assumed you would have a plan.” Oh no, Peter is the one with the plan. But he didn't tell me what it was so I have to make one up as we go along. I'm going to punch him when we find him.
“We go in, we get Peter and we leave.”
“That is the plan?”
“So far. I don't like to plan too far ahead. What's the point when things never go the way they are supposed to?”
“That is a valid point. But I am sure they did not storm the Bastile or conduct the Civil War without a plan.”
“I'm sure the South had a plan during the Civil war. And look how that turned out. Maybe if they just flew by the seat of their pants, they might not have lost the war.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” The comment reminds me of something Peter might have said. Peter. God I miss him.
When we're within a mile, Ivan slows way down.
“Can they hear us this far out?” I say it so soft my lips barely move. He shakes his head and then blinks. I guess that means maybe yes, maybe no. Best to take the precaution.
It takes minutes upon minutes to slowly make our way through the woods. It's different than Maine here. The trees are different, less close together. The distant sounds of the highway reach my sensitive ears.
I focus on Peter, hoping I can hear him or something. I know he must know I am coming. If he could, like, go all ninja and free himself and run to me and we could have one of those slow-motion moments with running and kissing and twirling around and laughing, that would be awesome. It will not happen, but I have a brief moment when I imagine it. I try to send the image to Peter. As if I can do such a thing. But who knows?
I'm coming. I love you. I'm coming. I love you.
My heart sings and I feel as if I could sprout wings myself when we get really close. We probably should have discussed if we were going to go with our guns blazing (so to speak) or if we were going to wave the white flag. I'm not really a white flag kind of girl. Guess Ivan isn't a white flag kind of guy. Noctalis.
He walks slow, but doesn't try to hide or do something like that. I test the connection. Peter is nearby, but I can't see him. I tug harder. He tugs back. I look down. Oh. I jab at Ivan and point to the ground. He nods. I study the ground in the increasing light. We're going to have to do this fast, or else I'm not going to get home. That would be a fine situation if we got out of this and then were busted by my parents. Worry about it later.
Ivan puts me down. I guess we're storming the Bastile.