“Not your fault. I really like you, Driver. It’s been a long time since…well, since a new guy’s been here who’s still got all of his face and stuff.” She shrugged. “I get lonely sometimes.”
I touched her face, using my thumb to wipe away the tear. “How bad is it, being trapped here?”
She stared at me for a moment, blinked, then gave her head the slightest shake. “I’m not trapped her. None of us are.”
“You stay here by choice?”
“Yes. Everyone here is given that choice. The Highway People bring them back, and if you choose to stay, then your Repairs begin.”
I really couldn’t get my head wrapped around this one. “But…for God’s sake, why would you choose to stay here and take part in all of this?”
“The people we leave behind. If we choose to stay, they are protected. I mean, it’s not like it can be all the people we leave behind, but our immediate family and closest friends, they’re okay.”
“Their numbers are withdrawn from the order?”
“If they have a number, yes. If, like, my sister didn’t have a number—and she didn’t—then I got to pick an extra friend.”
“How long do you have to stay here?”
“Until the people we pick die of natural causes, or however it is they do die. Just not by the Road. Once they’ve all passed on, then we can follow them.”
I tried doing a little arithmetic in my head—if you picked five people, and the youngest was only twelve, then how long…?—then realized it was pointless. She was talking about a long time, no matter how you looked at it. “Can I ask you stupid question?” She smiled. “You can ask me anything. I won’t think it’s stupid.” “How do you get by on a day-to-day basis? How do you stay sane?”
She thought about this for a moment, and then shrugged. “Like everybody else does, I suppose. You go to work when you’re supposed to, you do your job, then you go home, eat dinner, maybe watch some TV or put in a movie. Hang out with friends. Y’know…normal stuff.” “Watch TV or movies?” “Uh-huh.” “Hang out with friends?” “Uh-huh…?” “I guess I’m asking…what do you do for fun? What do you do to relax?” “I like to take walks.” For a moment I thought she was joking, then just as quickly realized she wasn’t. She took hold of my hand, leaned up, and kissed my cheek. “We really need to get going.”
“Ciera, please, please tell me what’s going to happen.” “I can’t. I could get into a lot of trouble if…” She broke off, stared at me, and smiled. “Let me ask you something, okay?” “Okay…?” “Am I prettier than Dianne?”
No way was I going to lie to her—she was the closest thing to an ally that I had (and something told me she’d know instantly if I tried bullshitting her)—but maybe I could respond without actually answering the question.
I touched her cheek and said, “I think you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. You’re going to race Fairlane.”
I remembered Daddy Bliss’s words from earlier—Some of us have been able to be Repaired almost immediately, while others—like myself and Fairlane, who you’ll be meeting later on—have to make due with more…primitive results—and felt myself shudder. If Fairlane had to make do with results even worse than Daddy Bliss’s, I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet him at all…so sayeth the King of Understatement. “A race?” She nodded. “The Road decided long ago that a race was the most direct and just way to settle a matter.” “What happens if I win?” She almost giggled. “Silly—you get to leave and go home.” “And if I lose?”
She stared at me for a moment, and then threw her arms around my neck and planted a kiss on me that would have killed a kid half my age; as it was, it left me weak in the knees.
“Then,” she said, “you and I can be together.”
So it was that simple; win, and I could leave; lose, and here I’d remain. It seemed almost too simple, but at the time I didn’t dwell on it. I was only interested in getting the hell out. In one piece, if possible.
She took hold of my hand and led me from the holding room, through the offices, and to the front doors. I looked out the windows and saw a long, dark limousine parked at the curb, engine purring. Ciera opened the door and out we went. As we neared the limo I saw, at last, how it was that Sheriff Hummer’s car was able to drive itself; a deep groove ran all along the center of both street lanes: the whole city was built on a gigantic HO track.
Ciera opened the back door of the limo and held my hand until I was seated inside.
“This is as far as I go,” she said. “I have to do a couple of things to get ready, but don’t worry, I’ll see you there in a few minutes.” She started to let go of my hand and I did something that surprised both of us: I tightened my grip and put my free hand on top of hers. “What is it?” she asked. “I…I don’t want to…let go just yet.” She gave me a tender smile and nodded her head. “I can hang for a minute.” “Good.”
I sat there trying to steady both my breathing and the beating of my heart. Ciera neither moved nor spoke, just kept hold of my hand until I was ready to let go. “Thank you,” I said. “You’re welcome. Tell you something weird—I kinda hope you win, but I also hope you don’t, you know?” An idea came to me. “You could come with me.”
“What?”
“You and me. We get the meat wagon and hightail it out of here.”
She pulled in a breath, held it, then released it with a soft little moan as she leaned in and kissed me again. “Do you have any idea how tempting that is?”
I sure hoped so. Shame on me.
“But you know I can’t. I couldn’t do that to my family and friends. But thank you for asking.” She pulled her hand from my grip and closed the door, which locked automatically.
The limo pulled away, and I looked through the back window, watching her stand there in the street until the car turned a corner and she was gone.
Strange as it might sound, I missed her.
I looked up front to see that the divider window was up; it was tinted, so I couldn’t make out anything about the person driving. I looked around until I found the intercom button, pressed it, and said: “Can you lower the window, please?”
There was a soft click, followed by a low, steady hum, and the window glided downward. There was no one driving. I should have known.
There was, however, a small television mounted on the dashboard, and as the window finished lowering, the screen flickered to life and I was looking at Daddy Bliss’s face.
“This is a pre-recorded message, Driver, so please don’t do anything so pointless and predictable as talking back to the screen. They lock people up for that sort of behavior.
“I’m fairly certain that you’ve by now managed to charm some information from our dear Ciera—I was, in fact, counting on it. So let’s proceed on that assumption, shall we?
“You are being driven to the only stretch of road in our fair metropolis that is smooth blacktop from beginning to end. A three-mile straightaway that my children long ago named ‘Daddy’s Dead Run’. A bit over-the-top, I know, but their hearts were in the right place and I’ve never been able to bring myself to tell them that I think it’s a silly, melodramatic name, but what is one to do?
“Once this limousine—and isn’t it a lovely vehicle? You should help yourself to some snacks and the wet bar, both are well-stocked. Now, where was I? Ah, yes.
“Once this limousine comes to a stop, you will be taken to your vehicle for this evening’s contest. You will be driving a car that I personally chose for you. I call it ‘The Ogre.’ Yes, I know—I have the gall to make fun of ‘Daddy’s Dead Run’ and then name a car ‘The Ogre’? It’s the little contradictions in one’s character that makes one fascinating to others. An enigma, so to speak.