No Working Title (3)

Chapter 6

Florescent lights glared in my eyes, spotting my vision with blurry smudges on the edges, but I didn’t want to close them.  I rocked slowly, the soles of my shoes squeaking on the floor of the waiting room, which was spotless despite the scuffing of hundreds of pairs of shoes like mine all the time.  I squeezed on the end of a row of chairs in the corner; the place was pretty crowded.  At least we all had seats.  The angry ring of ER phones resonated down the hallway to the group of chairs where we sat nervously.  Shut up, shut up, shut up, I wanted to say.
         I was going crazy.
         Overwhelmed by self-induced vertigo, my mind was spinning.  Endless questions spiraled in and out of my stream of consciousness, demanding answers.  Even though I had none. 
         One major one racked my brain – what hit us?  A white van.  Well yeah, obviously.  But what kind of van just drives off after T-boning some car?  What kind of van could?  This was a full-on car accident.
         A shock of pain pulsed somewhere in my head.  I knew I should stop thinking, but it seemed an impossible objective. 
         I almost stopped one of the countless nurses to ask for sedatives or something.  They would probably let me, anyway.  I touched the bandage on my nose with my fingertips, wincing.  Yes, definitely broken.
         Lila’s and Guy’s parents were all clustered on the other side of the room – Guy and I had retreated when their oppressive concern had grown unbearable.  My dad was nowhere in sight.  They couldn’t reach him at the office – go figure.  Every now and then they cast furtive glances across the room; it looked like they were trying to be encouraging, but they failed miserably. 
         In fact, it was making me more nervous than before.  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans again and again, but they wouldn’t dry off.  I gave up.
         Instead, keeping my eyes down to avoid the parental stares, I decided to verbalize my questions. 
         “Guy,” I mumbled nervously, my voice coarse, “What happened?”
         He sighed.  “We got hit by a car.”
         “It was a van,” I said, shaking my head.  “We got hit by a van.  But it seemed like it hit us on purpose.”
         I waited for him to say something and stared at my palms, ignoring the activity of the waiting room.  It was only a brief moment before Guy slowly nodded.
         “It didn’t even make a move to stop.  It just barreled right into us,” he said quietly.  “And when – and when it drove off right away, when I was trying to crawl out – there was no damage, Jena.”  He turned to me, the plastic-seated chair squeaking.  “Maybe a few dents, a few scratches – but otherwise it was totally unscathed.  And it just drove away…”
         I raised my head, and my gaze locked with his.  The blue eyes stormed.  “But why?” I whispered, slack-jawed; my question sounded pathetic even as I said it.  Guy didn’t seem to notice.
         “I have no idea.”  He paused.  “I’ve been watching the news, there-” he pointed at the tiny screen on the wall in the corner “-and there’s been nothing about a bank robbery, a burglary…anything that would involve a van speeding away from a crime scene.”
         I hesitated – a sense of dread was creeping up my throat.  “Maybe this is all connected,” I said.  “Maybe something weird is going on.”
         Guy looked at me then, suddenly serious.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.”  He spoke slowly, but his voice was steady.  “But let’s figure this out later.  When Lila gets out of here.”
         I glanced away down the nearest hallway and caught a glimpse of paramedics clattering down it, a stretcher in tow.  Lila’s broken face popped into my head, and I swallowed.  “Okay.”
         Staring down at my sweaty palms again, my insides began to churn.  Thinking about Lila’s injuries was making me physically sick.  And I still didn’t know the full extent of them, seeing as she had disappeared behind restricted doors as soon as our ambulance pulled in.  I leaned low on my elbows and redirected my eyes at the floor, feeling my stomach wrench around.
         I waited like that for awhile, paralyzed from the ache.  It was awhile before I noticed the tears all over my face.  The moist saltiness was making my face feel clammy.  The pit of my stomach giving a cry of protest, I sat up straight and tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand.  To no avail.
         As I buried my eyes into my sleeve, Guy’s fingers slid onto my shoulder.  I shivered.  I knew he was asking what was wrong by the way he squeezed gently.
         And then I blurted, “God, I forgot her, Guy.  I forgot.”  My voice was muffled, quiet.  “How could I forget Lila?”
         His hand was quivering softly.  “It’s okay, Jena…it doesn’t matter.”
         I rounded on him.  “What?  It doesn’t matter?’
         “I mean,” he corrected, “That it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
         I slowly drew my arm away from my face.  It felt like a warm, sticky film was plastered to my cheekbones, the shell of dried tears.  I blinked, and he went on.
         “It’s okay.  It was just for a second, you know?  I forgot, too.”
         I nodded my head, the blood pounding in my ears.  My brain felt like it was hitting itself with a hammer.
         And it seemed that my breath caught in my chest.
         “But you remembered me,” I whispered suddenly, and for a minute the guilt released its hold on me.
         I felt Guy seize up, his fingers tensing on my shoulder.  Gradually he drew them away.  For a moment they lingered in the air over the fist I had made, shaking silently, and in a panicked instant I thought he was going to seize my hand.  His hand trembled, suspended there.  But then he pulled it away and both hands disappeared into the front pocket of his hoodie.
         He turned away as he said, “I know.  I did.”
         My breath caught again, like an anvil was rested on my lungs.  But I forced it away, and I inclined my head to look at his face.
         I was shocked to see his cheekbones reddening.  Jaw clenched tight, he stared into space, though I couldn’t see his eyes.  His forehead was half-covered in white gauze where something had cut his head.  I remembered him protesting it, grimacing, when the nurse had approached him in the ER.  I had finally convinced him to just take the freaking bandage.  Something about a sharp look that I had given him had changed his mind.
         Suddenly he glanced over, and our gazes locked.  With a start, I saw that his eyes were genuinely troubled.  They were almost pleading, desperate, more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.  Guy never got shaken up, ever.
         “I thought I lost you guys,” he whispered.
         My mind started to twist his words.  I thought I lost you, Jena.  I swallowed, a long and icy shiver running down to my toes.  And then I ripped my gaze away, afraid he would notice how his face drew me in.  I felt like slapping myself, and not for the first time today.
         But my hammering heart froze when the automatic doors slid open and I saw who walked in.
         Blonde hair waving, glossy and straight, Marilyn strutted through groups of milling people toward us.  She didn’t even have to stop and look around to spot us in the corner – it was like she had known even before she’d made her entrance.
         I felt a stab of annoyance rattle my whole body.  My eyes rolled, and I jerked my head away.  Her perfume was already making my eyes water.  The nerve of her -
         Hi, Miss Goody-Goody.  How’s your little friend Guy?  She approached us with watery eyes and a puppy-dog frown, but I heard the hidden smile in her voice.  Though I wasn’t sure it was a voice.  It could have just been some figment of my subconscious –
         “Ohmygod, Guy, are you okay?”
         I felt a large, obnoxious itch rising in my throat, but I didn’t want to find out what kind of excruciating pain would explode from my nose if I coughed.  So I settled for a very pointed glare right at her.
         She was twisting the strap of her purse in her hands, lower lip nearly trembling, apparently concerned.  Though I knew better.  I have to admit, her act was pretty flawless, except I could see right through her eyes to what she was thinking.  Or, at the very least, what she wasn’t thinking.
         I’m sure he was fine until you showed up, I snarled.
         “Yes.  I’m fine,” Guy said.  I froze.
         His voice had transformed into sugar-coated velvet, sweet and smooth as it rolled out.  The subtle purr set goose bumps racing down to my toes.  But just now it had been shaking, trembling, almost.  Desperate.  I felt my frown slacken as my mouth drooped open.  The gauze on my face tickled.
         Marilyn subtly angled her eyes at me.  Nice face. She giggled.  You get a nose job?  Because you sure as hell need one, Jena.
         What the hell are you, eight?
         My muscles were vibrating with the strain of not springing up with my fists raised.  It was agonizingly tempting.  But I was still stunned by the shift in Guy’s tone.
         He sat up straighter, posture sturdy.  I turned my gaze on his eyes.  They set another round of chills through me – they were foggy and trained right on Marilyn.  “I’m glad you came.”
         My breath stopped dead in my throat again.  I inadvertently wondered how many shocking situations it would take for my lungs to give out.  If there was a magic number, today I was probably getting dangerously close.
         ‘I’m glad you came’?  I thought, breath slowly returning.  No!
         She giggled again.  Yes.
         You know what, smartass, I retorted, this isn’t a joke.
         Oh, isn’t it?  I imagined her raising her eyebrows.  Well, I find it to be rather amusing.  This idiot’s driving finally did you in.  And now look at poor, poor Lila.
         It wasn’t his fault, Marilyn.  We were just – I stopped – Wait.  How do you even know what happened?
         Must we go over this again?  I can read minds.  It wasn’t that hard to figure out with you bawling your eyes out in here.
         I let that one slide.  Just get lost.  Or I’ll make you sorry you didn’t, I added.  A little (albeit lame) threat seemed appropriate.  To my surprise, she just pursed her lips.
         Fine.
         “Here, do you want me to get some…” She appeared to think for a moment.  “…coffee?”  At this, Guy’s face spread into a hearty grin.  Like a little kid at the offer of candy.  In fact, he looked like an idiot.  If there was one thing I had learned from my inability to keep my eyes off him, it was that Guy even lookedsmart.  Somehow, though, he now looked clueless.
         “Please.  Coffee would be great.”
         Suddenly I found myself on my feet.  “I need some air,” I blurted nervously, and my legs carried me across the room to the automatic doors.  They slid open with a hiss, and I stumbled out into the night.
         A few flecks of precipitation glided down onto me, though I knew it wasn’t going to rain any more tonight.  It was just really wet.  But I went and leaned on a nearby railing anyway, feeling the cool moisture seeping through my sweatshirt.
         It was only a second or two before I heard the doors slide open again.  Marilyn.
         “What the hell do you want now?”  I spat, spinning around.  But the figure in the doorway was tall and wiry, if only just a black silhouette.  I was too tired for my face to flush.  Instead I just dropped my eyes.  “Oh.  I’m sorry.  It’s you.”
         “Yeah,” he sighed.  “It’s me.”  The exhaustion was plain in his voice.  I started again.
         So, what, he was shaky and fatigued again?  Note to self: Guy’s becoming bipolar.
         He hesitated, weight on one foot.  His posture was uneasy.  Only when the doors beeped angrily for him to get out of the way, he took a step forward, just across the sensor mat.  The doors hissed shut again.
         Guy held back – now that I could see the glimmer of his eyes, they were uncertain, searching my face for some indication of what he should do.  As if he had offended me a little.  I also noticed that they were sparklingly clear.  Not just clear, but freaking crystal, like the shiny wine glass the woman holds up to the light in a dish soap ad.  Not fogged over - ridiculously clear.
         I tried to inhale, my breath coming in shallow bursts.  I impulsively turned away.
         That seemed invitation enough for him.  The silent black shadow appeared at the rail next to me.
         “It was getting too hot in there,” he said quietly.
         You hear that, Marilyn?  You’re too hot for him.
         I heard the ghost of her harsh laugh in my head, but I didn’t get a response.
         “Yeah,” I said flatly.
         I angled my head slightly to see him.  Orange reflections from the floodlight on the wall beside us shone on his face, perspiration sliding down his forehead.  He stared into the parking lot, which was brightened here and there by lonely streetlamps, and wiped his face off.  It was drawn and even paler than usual.  It didn’t take much for me to realize that he was worried.
         It made me uncomfortable somehow.  I shifted my weight and shuddered.  It was an odd sensation – Guy wasn’t supposed to get scared.  He wasn’t supposed to freak out like this.  God, when everybody else got nervous, Guy showed the emotion of a rock.  I might have called him on a personality disorder sometime if he didn’t lighten up when I was around.
         Anybody would get shaken up in a car wreck.  Anybody but Guy.
         I’m giving myself an ulcer.
         I watched him out of the corner of my eye, feeling distinctly stalker-in-the-night.  But the impulse to slide my gaze away – as discreetly as I could ever manage – didn’t come.  His shuddering breaths began to set my pulse hammering.
         “Are you okay?” I said nervously, examining his expression.  The words felt alien as they crept out of my mouth.  Me, asking if Guy was alright.  I could already see his incredulous face.  ‘Uh…yeah, I’m fine.’
         But there was no shift in the glint of the luminescence off his cheekbones.  Instead there was an awkward pause while he breathed, the pace of it fluctuating oddly.  I wanted to say something, but any ideas escaped me. 
         I stared at him in anticipation of his response.  If I would ever get one.  For once, Guy wouldn’t meet my eyes.
         It was almost like a light shove, the way I felt him block me out just then.  Just a small push that made me the slightest bit uneasy.  A hitch tugged at my lungs from the strange disappointment.  I turned my head gawkily back to the nearly-empty parking lot, mind spinning with the silence.  And then I had to listen carefully to hear his mumble.
         “Fine.”
         I could almost feel a void spring up.  The vibrations as the awkward fissure leaped apart.  It was always like this.  My seventh, maybe eighth sense (I always lost count) was to perceive when we were tuned into one another.  Sometimes it waned, like it did now.  An ache somewhere in my midsection begged me to correct it.
         “Lila’s going to be okay, you know.  It’s not your fault,” I offered, barely succeeding in keeping the confusion out of my voice.
         I got some small satisfaction in that he replied right away.  Even if his words didn’t thrill me.
         “No.  I know that.” 
         His voice was strained, frustrated, and his knuckles turned white as he unleashed his death-grip on the rail.  Shocked, I didn’t think I’d ever seen him quite like this before.  I opened my mouth to utter something calming, but I snapped it shut.  Headlights flashed in the left corner of my vision.
         An ambulance coasted around the corner along the one-way drive that lead to the street.  It slowed to a halt right outside a square of white light in the side of the building.  At first glance, it was just a window, but then it unlocked with a click and swung outwards.  Guy dropped his hands from the railing.
         A frenzy of voices and the clattering of wheels.  Behind the glare of the headlights, I saw two figures climb out of the passenger and driver’s side doors.  They hurried to the back, popping open the rear access.  More metallic clangs.  A small procession of silhouettes filed rapidly onto the curb.
         Their urgency was unnerving.  “Something’s going on,” I said softly, cogs turning.
         The volume of the clatter escalated as a stretcher bounced across the threshold.  And then we heard the groans of discomfort.
         In a brief second, my train of thought lurched to life.  I knew it was Lila.  Guy knew it was Lila.  We didn’t need to say it.
         But I couldn’t have moved a muscle if the fate of all humanity depended on it.
         The stretcher banged off the curb and disappeared behind the ambulance in a flash.  The slam of doors echoed out into the darkness, and the siren screamed to life, lights blinding.
         It sprang forward, lightning in the shadowy lot.  I heard myself yell, arms lifting, as if I could hail it down, like it was a cab.  It was a blur as it screeched by.  The only thing that I could pick out was a white, harsh-featured face with hollow eyes.  In a burst of comprehension, I recognized the pale man.  He was hard to forget.
         And then, the Doppler resonations from the siren ringing painfully in my ears, the taillights peeled out of sight and disappeared down the nearly-empty street.
         I almost opened my mouth to call out again, uselessly.  But any air that may have been in my body rushed out with a whoosh, like a big punch in the stomach.  There was no chance to recuperate before a vise tightened around my forearm, tugging urgently.
         Guy’s voice was in my ear.  “Come on, Jena – the car.”
         He pulled me forward, and we were racing across the parking lot, but I skidded to a halt.  He spun around.  “What?”
         “Guy, what car?  It's totalled!”
         We stood there dumbly, stumped.  He swiveled his head to look at the red Hummer right next to us, and I gaped at him.  With no time to protest, Guy was already hurtling along the length of the Hummer.  I still couldn’t say anything as he reached down, seized a sizable rock, and swung it vigorously at the driver’s window.  It shattered, glass spraying into the lavish interior and onto the pavement.  Immediately, a howling alarm erupted from the depths of the car, but Guy was already at the wheel.
         I hurried around the other side, hearing the click of the doors unlocking.  The rock was sitting on the leather seat as I went to climb in; I leaned out and tossed it back into the bushes.  When I sat down again, taking in the shiny surfaces and glowing meters in awe in spite of myself, Guy was hunched down beneath the steering wheel, wires protruding from his fist.  His fingers were a blur to me in the darkness.  In the same moment, the alarm silenced abruptly and the engine fired up with a long growl.
         “I didn’t know you could hot-wire a car,” I gasped.  Guy shrugged.
         He was reversing before I could even get the door shut.  The tires squealed as we spun around, and I gripped a handle on the ceiling for support.
         As soon as Guy had started accelerating, he slammed on the brakes with both feet.
         I lurched forward, my forehead smacking the dash.  With a muffled cry of anguish at the shock of pain in my nose, I squeezed my eyes shut angrily.
         “What the h-“
         “We forgot Marilyn!” he exclaimed, eyes forward.
         “What?” I said, incredulous.  “Are you insane?”
         He popped open the door and stepped down to the pavement in one smooth motion.
         “Wait, wait, wait!  Guy!” I leaned across the armrest.  “What about Lila?”  But he was already running around the Hummer towards the entrance that we had been standing next to just a few moments ago.  I swore in confusion and swung my door open, dropping a startling foot or two.  Then I gave chase, ridiculous and futile as it was, sneakers slapping the ground.  Guy vanished behind the sliding panels of glass, and I followed in shock.
         I caught up to him just as he halted at the threshold of the waiting room, his eyes scanning the faces for the one he recognized.  I reached for his elbow.
         “What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, pulling him back the way we had come.  Guy didn’t budge an inch.  He just subtly shook my hand off.  The gentle murmur of the nervous people around us dipped low as several paused their conversations to listen to us.  Drama vultures.  I wished irrationally that I could just flap my arms and they would disperse.
         I wasn’t inclined to test that theory, however, because more important things were at hand.  Strangely, it was almost humorous that the situation was far more dire than they were probably guessing.  Probably.
         Just then, Marilyn strode around the nearest corner.  With no coffee in hand – though Guy’s face didn’t change at that fact.
         She had an air of anxiety around her, like the space in her immediate vicinity was shivering.  It smoothed out as soon as I had noticed.
         “What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously.  Guy leaped right in before I could read her expression.
         “We need to hurry – they’ve got Lila.”  There was no need to exchange such pleasantries like just who had Lila, although I still wasn’t quite sure anyway.  Marilyn was hurrying behind us without another word, though she was quick to match my stride and ease a half step ahead.
         We were outside in no time, blood pounding in my ears from the electricity of adrenaline pulsing through me.  I was so distracted that Marilyn climbed right in the passenger seat, and I didn’t object.  Guy slid into the driver’s seat again, shards of glass shifting around, and I slunk into the back.  Blue lights from the stereo and the various dashboard electronics glowed eerily.
         Guy stabbed the gas, and we veered left on the street that bordered the ER, aiming for downtown.  I had no input on which way to turn from there, but he didn’t hesitate at the next intersection.  With a screech amplified by the utter silence, our Hummer flew around the corner, passing in and out of glancing pools of light.  I could only absorb a moment of silence before Marilyn spoke up.
         Her voice in my head was languid, dripping with certain apathy, as she dragged her gaze back and forth.  Wow, she said.  This is pretty damn nice.  You’ve outdone yourself.
         I grated my teeth together – maybe I could sharpen them like this.  Perhaps adopt life as a vampire.  It couldn’t possibly be any harder than suffering through her antics.
         I seethed.
         But really, Jena, I wish you had picked something more obvious.  I don’t think we stand out enough.
         Marilyn.  I caught her eye in the rear-view mirror.  Shut the hell up.
         She ignored me.  We could have just taken my car, you know.  She smirked, and I settled into a furious silence.  The last thing she deserved was a response from me, anyway.
         My heart was still hammering, and it wasn’t showing signs of letting up anytime soon.  Lila was getting further away by the second, and we still didn’t know who had kidnapped her or why.  The only clue to the answer of either of those was that the pale cop was along for the ride.  It was either some sick coincidence or it was all logically linked.  With the way that the last couple days had played out, I quickly discarded the possibility of sheer chance.  That didn’t fit with the weird turn of events that was my life.
         Head spinning, my conscience was pointing fingers.  Mostly at whoever was behind this.  Acquiring a second shadow, probably failing my math test (which seemed so trivial now), and jerking my life upside down – what was it all for?  Besides having otherworldly talents, what else had I done to justify all this?  Why did I deserve it?
         Deserve.  Who deserved anything that happened to them?
         Lila definitely didn’t deserve it.
         Or did she just jinx herself?  She was so afraid of something bad happening – and then this happened.  The wreck happened.
         I instantly felt dirty.  Like I had just shouted obscenities at my elderly grandparents.  I wasn’t one to talk; blaming her was getting me nowhere.  Ending up in the hospital – it was just bad luck, right?
         And then guilt was eating at me, suddenly.  Remorse for not being able to act.  How could I just let them drive away with Lila?  How did I just let her go?  I should have done something.  Jumped out in front of the ambulance – maybe they would have stopped.  And maybe I would have gotten plowed over.  But that was irrelevant.  At the very least, I wouldn’t have to sit here now and feel my stomach twist for not taking some kind of action.  The most drastic thing I did was throw up my hands.  What an idiot.  It wasn't Lila's fault, it was mine.
         I rubbed my eyes vigorously.  I would still be standing on the sidewalk, dumbfounded, if Guy hadn’t been with me.  He never hesitated under pressure.
         He didn’t waver here at the wheel, either.  At every intersection, he made a clean, automatic turn or just sped right through.  Either he was making very convincing guesses, or some navigator in his mind had taken over.  I hoped, in my anxiety, that it was the latter.  Random turns weren’t going to cut it if we were going to catch up to that ambulance.
         We zipped through downtown in a flash.  The shops and squat apartments were just a fleeting gray fog, as was usual when Guy drove.  I wondered if heads were turning in shock within the windows that we flew past.  They would have good reason, at least – it wasn’t too common around here to see a giant red Hummer pushing sixty on Main Street.
         I squinted through the windshield, trying to discern what lay ahead from the sporadic streetlights along the road.  It was far easier said than done, let me tell you.  Any part of the cityscape that I could see disappeared promptly around a turn, or else whooshed right by.  But there was no mistaking the blazing taillights at the intersection we came upon next.
         “Whoa, whoa.” I waved my hands at Guy in the front.  He drew up about a hundred yards from the ambulance, which was paused momentarily at the red.  The shadows on his face shifted as his expression relaxed a notch.  I let out a gust of air that was trapped within my lungs.  Marilyn didn’t react; she focused on the dashboard with a weird intensity.
         It was only a moment before the ambulance lurched forward again.  I could imagine Lila jostling around inside.  It was probably hurting her considerably, too.  I grimaced as I thought about her pain.  What was pain to me, to Guy, to Marilyn?  It was nothing.  Nothing compared to Lila.  She felt pain fifty times more than any of us.  Than anyone, for that matter.  I shifted uneasily in my seat.
         Guy accelerated as slowly as he could, which was naturally way too fast.  I insisted that he stay back two hundred yards.  Then three hundred, as we drove onward.  Then four hundred on the empty highway.  As careful as I seemed, our Hummer was painfully obvious.  I didn’t have a doubt that they had already caught on.  Or the people in the ambulance were oblivious to the point of being completely comatose.  Though this apparently wasn’t the case, since the vehicle wasn’t swerving violently in and out of the wrong lane.
         So, where are they taking the loon? Marilyn asked, absurdly casual, like she was too blasé to even listen to the answer.  She spoke with the apathy of dysfunctional small talk.  It made my pulse quicken with annoyance.
         Sorry, I’m fresh out of infinite knowledge.  Ask me later.
         Marilyn ignored me.  Well, they’ve got to be heading somewhere.
         I rolled my eyes.  No shit, Sherlock.  That’s why we’re following them.
         Touchy, touchy.  No need for harsh words.  She angled her head.  I just thought you might enjoy an answer to my little question.  But I suppose you’re more interested in your oh-so-clever comebacks.  Real nice.
         For a second, I started.  An answer?  Where they were taking Lila?  But then I caught myself.  Using somebody like Marilyn as a reliable source was as terrible an offense as scribbling in ink on textbook pages.  Both would earn you a wag of the finger and a slap on the hand when doing school research.
         I wasn’t about to shoot myself in the foot, here.  I was sure she was bluffing.
         As my breathing started to slow, I shut up.  In the distance, tiny red flickers of light showed the ambulance driving along the highway ahead of us.  We weren’t going to lose sight of it anytime soon, on account of how empty the road was.  I glanced at the digital clock on the dash; the digits glowed back at me.  1:48 a.m.  Which startled me – how long had we been sitting there in the waiting room, anyway? 
         I yawned surreptitiously.  There was nothing to see beyond the edges of the highway.  Just periodic walls of foliage, or else blackness stretching into the darkness.  Even if there was a moon, its light wouldn’t penetrate the thick blanket of clouds that choked the sky.  All I could see was the night.
         Instead, I turned my eyes to Guy, fingers tight on the wheel, the fierce but silent wind from the broken window setting his hair aflutter.  The clench of his jaw was hard to discern in the dark, but I knew it was there.  I knew something was still wrong.  From his board-straight posture to the ferocity of his gaze, it was clear that he hadn’t gotten over what was bugging him back at the hospital.  I could see his trembling hands and hear his shaking words all over again.  It scared me all over again.  I wanted to ask him, to try to understand, but Marilyn stood in the way.  Hopefully this wasn’t a growing trend, or I was in trouble.
         
I pitched awake, head snapping forward.  A small sound rose out of my throat.  Rubbing my eyes, I heard the leather crinkle as Marilyn shifted to look at me.  She turned back around.  There was a ringing in my ears for a few seconds.  I could make out the reassuring dots on the road ahead.
         With a glance at the clock, my heart beat faster.  4:27 a.m.  We’d been driving for almost three hours already.  How much farther was it going to be? 
         It faded into utter silence again, just as it was when I fell asleep.  Now that everything had settled again, it was comparable to watching a silent movie.  I was outside my body, outside the Hummer, looking in through the window.
         I saw Guy, eyes half-open, obviously trying very hard not to doze off.  His mouth was drooped into a tired frown, but his hold on the gleaming steering wheel had slackened.  It made me relax.
         I saw Marilyn.  Her gray eyes were dull, narrowed.  Lips pursed and arms crossed.  I don’t believe she could have appeared more bored than she did just now.  Did she regret tagging along?  Probably.  Maybe getting to the bottom of our predicament wasn’t quite high enough on her priority list to deserve this much attention.  But then why had she come?  Because of Guy?
         And then I saw myself, expression alert thanks to my nap.  But there was apprehension there, too.  Fear that had made itself at home in the lines of my face during the last few days.  The way things were progressing, it wasn’t packing its bags in the near future. 
         Neither was the melancholy in my stare, which was surely on the outline of the driver, tracing it systematically.  Face, neck, shoulder.  Repeat.  I had to make sure he was still there.  For a time, all that mattered was seeing him.  Sometimes it seemed like he might fade into nothingness.  I felt my face flush.  Absurd or not – pathetic or not – I couldn’t find it in me to look away.  At least not until the far-ahead sky began to glow pink.
         It wasn’t the sunrise – we were driving west.  So then it had to be a city, right?  A city, not like the tiny towns that we continued to pass every so often.  The slothful workings of my mind were struggling to reach a conclusion, but it was like wading through the shallow end of the pool.  Two words: slow work.
         For the first time since we had left the ER in Rupert, a fleeting thought crossed my mind, wondering what the parents were doing right now.  I wasn’t worrying about my dad – he probably had no idea I was gone – but over Guy’s parents.  If anything, Guy was always responsible.  Mature, even.  It wasn’t anything like him to vanish in the middle of the night.  Under the circumstances, I could forgive him.  But his disappearing act could have entirely different implications for Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan.  The perfect son, who had never once broken curfew, takes off with no warning.  Possibilities: (1) kidnapped; (2) kidnapped; (3) kidnapped; (4) mugged, then kidnapped; or (5) serious misunderstanding.  If it was me, the fifth option would never cross my mind, before or after the fact.
         The only good news was that in all likelihood, Lila was still sleeping off the operation in recovery.  For all her parents knew, that is.  Right now, they were blissfully (as far as blissfully went – their daughter just got in a car wreck) unaware of what was taking place.  For how long this would last, I had no idea.  The only thing that I knew would last was Rupert Medical Center’s inability to contact one William H. Rawles, profession unknown.
         As we began to pass by the streets of a town slightly bigger than those previous, the pink blob grew larger and brighter on the horizon, slowly filling up the windshield with its intensity.  And by the time we had left that town behind, bigger collections of white spots started to emerge, bright and less concentrated before.  After every passing moment, the silhouettes of towering buildings became clearer and clearer. 
         At long last, my brain reached the conclusion it had been searching for.  They were taking Lila to Pittsburgh, and we were following them there.
         It seemed as though everything began to grow in size – the structures ahead got taller, the gaps in the trees expanded, the road widened, and the pink blob swallowed up the sky.  Not to mention the enormity of my gaping eyes.
         After all these years of living a mere three or four hours away from both, I had never been to Pittsburgh, Philly – or anywhere else, for that matter.  Rupert, as much as I hated to admit it, was my entire life.  Dad had hardly any time to go grocery shopping, much less take me on any kind of vacation.  Even a weekend trip was completely out of the question.  Since both Lila and Guy’s parents had many times tossed out the idea of three of us going out of town, I didn’t have much of anybody to take me with them.  But I had never really minded that much.  My dad’s busy schedule and my friends’ prohibitions were just part of my life.
         Ergo, travel didn’t happen – so laying eyes on the biggest city I’d ever seen was pretty damn exciting.
         Absolutely entranced by the urban giant before us, it startled me as Guy changed lanes and barreled down the next exit, engine grumbling.
         “It turned off here,” he explained, glancing back at me.  “Probably headed downtown.”  Guy didn’t shake his head in awe; he didn’t frown and squint at the street signs, and he didn’t break out a Pennsylvania road map.  Although he had no more city experience than I did, he drove like he was born and raised here.
         Accelerating with conviction, he navigated the curving exit onto Highway 30, perpendicular to the interstate we’d just left.  And now we were headed dead-center towards the dazzling mass of high-rise buildings, the glaring red lights from the ambulance serving as our only guide.  Though perhaps Guy could make another series of really accurate guesses to reach our destination.
         The cars were more prevalent here than on I-76, if not great in number.  There were only so many on the road at 4:45 in the morning.  Guy narrowed the distance between us and the ambulance by two or three hundred yards, what with other vehicles changing lanes and flashing their taillights.  If anything, we could not lose sight of them - it was too risky to even keep a car between us.
         Feeling nervous again about the blatancy of our Hummer, I leaned back from the windows, like if the pale man caught a glimpse of my face, that single thing would give us away.  Not the giant red monster that had conveniently followed them from Small Town, Pennsylvania in the dead of night for three plus hours.
         My temples ached from thinking – it was almost like taking midterms, except worse.  I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how they couldn’t know we were following them.  If they did, they surely would have lost us by now.  Leading us to their hideaway didn’t make any sense at all.
         Quickly looping off the highway at the last second, we made our way through a series of commercial neighborhoods, fluorescent signs of familiar companies glowing down at us.  The traffic was building as dawn approached, especially on the regular city streets. 
         Guy furrowed his eyebrows, trying to gage when to accelerate and when to pound on the brakes, so we wouldn’t have to come to a halt directly behind them – or worse, get stuck at a red while they drove away.  The seatbelt across my shoulder alternated between squashing my chest and forcing me against the back of my seat.  Despite my backseat trauma, I leaned as far forward as I possibly could to better see out the front.
         As the minutes wore on, the buildings and lights and sounds outside started to blur together.  Whether it was from my drowsiness or because Guy was driving faster, I did not know.  All I could really focus on were the big, white back doors of the Lila Mobile.  The fact that it was still in view.  That wherever they were taking her, we were going there too.  And I was sure that it would bring me one step closer to solving this riddle that had entwined itself onto me.  Because it wasn’t going to let me go unless I could somehow break free of it.
         It was about half an hour later when the ambulance ahead slowed dramatically and turned into the drive of a multi-level brick office building on the side of the road.  Guy stepped on the brakes until we were just coasting along behind it.  We drove slowly past as the ambulance cruised along the front of the building and then disappeared into a two level parking garage on the side.
         Nobody saying anything, Guy twisted the wheel, bounced over a curb, and entered the parking lot on the other side of the silent street.  Behind the partition of a fancy iron fence, we came to a halt.  Guy pulled some wires from the shadows below the steering wheel, and the vibes of the engine stopped.  For a second, we all stared across the street at the brick structure.
         I made a face.  “Now what?”
         There was a lengthy pause.  Guy took a deep breath, hands on his head.
         “I guess we have to follow them inside.”