Page 37 of Exit Strategy
We drove past more carnage – a few flipped cars, and a lorry that had been ripped apart, the cab thrown into one of the rock strewn and dusty fields. The tornado left a path of destruction that ran for almost sixty miles, and it was something that I couldn’t imagine happening anywhere, let alone here in America.
The road leading out of Oklahoma seemed endless, and when we finally crossed the state line, there was an almost supernatural sense of relief. “Someone mentioned that tornadoes are really bad through here, and everyone lives in trailer houses, but no one has an underground shelter,” Callie said. “It makes me wonder, what lives in the earth that’s so much worse that people would rather face the storms?”
“That’s some right fucking weird shit, right there,” I said. She never turned her head, and just watched as the scenery faded into darkness. It was a late check-in when we finally surrendered to exhaustion. The hotel was nothing more than a sunbaked wreck on the side of the road, but the town showed signs of life – a few streetlights, and businesses that didn’t shutter when the sun went down. They weren’t upright places, but seedy types – topless bars, dives, and a few pull up places for food.
We hit one of the pull-ups and indulged in some of the greasiest hamburgers I had ever eaten, served with onion rings bigger than I had ever seen. Callie declined to have the same and instead had one of the strangest chicken salad sandwiches I had ever seen. It was packed full of bacon and slivered almonds, and she held it like it was a life preserver.
The mulberry milkshake was something different, and Callie seemed to enjoy it more than I did. I found it to be floral and almost sickeningly sweet.
I was happy to see her get more than a few bites down.
The hotel room was the depressing sort we were used to. The shower worked, and I was able to toss my storm-battered clothes in the bin. Judging by the look of the room, they wouldn’t call the police over some bloody shirt. This seemed like the sort of place that unless there was a body, they didn’t do anything other than toss some more bleach into the laundry.
This was reminding me of the worse parts of North Yorkshire, but if nuclear war had removed the trees, and burned the streams away, and left nothing but burned rock and the shells of buildings behind. I was looking forward to being back in Maryland, and my place outside of Indigo City.
“Did you know that the mountains we’re going to cross tomorrow are the siblings to the mountains of western Europe, and specifically, Scotland?”
Callie looked thoughtful for a moment, working to dry her hair out after the shower. The trivia seemed important because it let me have something to say, somewhere to put my attention rather than directly on her.
After the shower she was in her usual attire, a pair of the cheap cotton panties from Omni-Mart and one of my shirts. Each time she moved the towel in her hair, the hem of the shirt rose. She kept showing me the front of her panties, and that place that caught my breath, the span above her waistband and below her bellybutton. That was a weakness of mine, along with a nice shoulder, or delicate neck.
These were better to focus on rather than the way her nipples showed under the thin fabric of my shirt.
Fucking hell, she was stunning.
“Mountains in Scotland, huh?” she asked. “I thought you were English.”
“I am English, but Yorkshire, North Yorkshire specifically, is close to the Scottish border, the highlands, all that.”
“I know there is more to England than London, but that’s what I know,” she said. “That’s also the only place in England I’ve ever been. Back for the press junket for Arik’s movie. What was that terrible one where he was a steampunk pirate in the flying ship? He had that stupid hat and wore those contacts that made him look like he had crystal eyes?”
“I’ve only seen one of Arik’s movies – the one with the fighting tournament but had time travel for some bloody reason.”
“That one, it was the opposite of good,” Callie said. “Even Arik said that one was terrible.”
“He hasn’t done very many good films,” I said. “It’s no surprise the Academy has stonewalled him for all these years.”
“He won’t do anything that isn’t a big-budget action film, or something that’s tied to New Eden where it shows a ruined Earth. He’s been offered roles that might get him consideration. I know there was one being floated about Stonewall, but he turned it down and said some words that I won’t repeat, but they were ugly.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
“I’m tired,” she said, and did a stretch that showed off her smooth, tight stomach. I looked away but grunted in agreement.
I let her get in the bed first and after a few minutes, I gave up the watch, double-checked the locks on the door and the safety on the pistol I put on the bedside table. I turned off the light and started to settle in.
“Kurt?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Would you face me tonight?” she asked.
“If you want,” I said hesitantly.
“It would make me feel safer,” she said.
“Sure,” I said, again responding slowly.
I faced her, and she put her face against my chest. She went to sleep quickly, and it was a long time before I felt the day creeping up on me. I was distantly aware, as my consciousness faded, that she turned, put her back against me, and pushed close.
