PHOENIX
The Next Day
The morning light filters through the makeshift shelter we’ve created at the preserve, and I wake to the sound of Clover moving around quietly. She’s trying not to disturb Dracula, who’s claimed the prime real estate between our sleeping bags in the back of the truck as though he owns the place.
She’s already checking her blood sugar, the routine so natural now that I automatically reach for the orange juice without thinking. She catches my movement and smiles, soft, sleepy, so beautiful.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the juice. “Ninety-four. Right where it should be.”
I nod, watching her face in the morning light. There’s something different about her today. The tension that’s been weighing on her shoulders since we left LA has eased, replaced by something that looks almost like peace.
“Sleep okay?” I ask, starting to pack our gear.
“Better than I have in days.” She’s folding her sleeping bag with practiced efficiency. “Must be the desert air.”
Or maybe it’s because we finally stopped running from whatever this thing is between us.
Dracula stretches, fixes me with his judgmental yellow stare, then stalks off to terrorize some unsuspecting desert creature. The little shit has grown on me, though I’d rather eat sand than admit it out loud.
“I can’t believe we’re taking him to Vegas,” I grumble, watching him pounce on something that’s probably better left unidentified.
“He chose us,” Clover says, like that explains everything. “Besides, you know you love him.”
“I donotlove that psychotic furball.”
She laughs, the sound echoing across the desert. “Sure, you don’t, you basically admitted it yesterday.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, we should pack and get on the road. It’s taken us three days in what should be an eight-hour trip with all our stops from LA to Vegas. I think we’ve milked this trip as long as we can. We need to get back on the road and head into Vegas. Sin was expecting us days ago.”
Clover sighs, but nods, continuing to pack.
This trip has been fun.
I didn’t expect it to be. Hell, a lot has happened in these three days, but at some point, we need reality to crash back in. We have to get to Vegas, check in with Sin at Las Vegas Defiance, so we have some protection when the shit hits the fan back home. Because the truth is, even though we’re having a good time, the club in LA is still preparing for war—a war they may not win, and Vegas may very well be our new home.
I just don’t know if Clover has realized that fact yet.
And when she does, I’ll be ready to catch her if she falls.
***
Within an hour, we’ve got everything packed and loaded. Dracula, the traitorous bastard, actually lets me put him in his makeshift carrier without trying to claw my face off.
Progress.
“So, what’s the plan?” Clover asks as I start the truck.
I pull out the itinerary she’d planned, what feels close to a lifetime ago. “Zzyzx Road first. Then Seven Magic Mountains. Pioneer Saloon for lunch.” I glance at her. “Vegas by evening.”
Vegas.
The word sits heavy between us.
The end of our bubble.
The end of this strange, perfect isolation where it’s just been us and the desert and whatever this thing is that’s been building.
“Sounds perfect,” she says, but I hear the undertone. The knowledge that each mile takes us closer toreal life.
