Life on the Preservation, US Edition (39 page)

“No. And don’t yell at me.”

“But you have to be here today. You have to.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ian. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s NOT going to be okay. Look I understand if you don’t believe me about the end of the world. I get that. But don’t do this, don’t fuck around with this. This is our only chance.”

“Calm down.”

Ian pounded his fist on the table, making the sugar spoon jump. Heads turned toward him. He was out of his mind with fear and frustration.

“Anyway, there’s nothing to do about it now,” Kylie typed. “No more buses tonight. I know this is hard for you, Ian. But you’ll feel better tomorrow. We’ll talk all about it.”

“There IS no tomorrow. Stay at your house. I’m coming to get you.”

He slapped the computer shut without waiting for her reply, left it on the table and bolted from the coffee shop.

I
AN LEFT THE
Chief idling in Kylie’s driveway. It sounded sweet, a steady thrumming, no skips, farts or coughs. Thank God he’d had Ye Olde Classic Bike Barn tear the engine down. He felt confident striding to the front door of Kylie’s house. There was still time to get back to Seattle before the attack. And even though they were cutting it insanely close, his anxiety level would be twice as high if he had to worry about the Chief quitting on him. He should have checked the gas, though. He really should have.

Ian pounded on Kylie’s front door. Her mother answered it, then almost slammed it in his face. Ian pulled his hood over his vampire head.

“I have to see Kylie,” he said.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Kylie’s.” There was no
time
. Kylie appeared on the stairs behind her mother. Ian waved frantically.

“Come on, I have to talk to you right now.”

Kylie’s mother blocked the door with her foot. “Honey, do you know this man?”

“Yeah, I know him. It’s okay, Mom.”

“Well, why don’t I know him?”

“It’s complicated, Mom.”

Kylie’s mother reluctantly stepped aside and Kylie slipped onto the porch, shrugging into her jacket.

“Be back in a while, Mom.”

“Be
safe
.”

“Mom.”

“I’m just saying be safe.”

The door shut and Ian said, “We should get her to Seattle. Could you talk her into driving you there tonight, right away?”

“
No
.”

Kylie grabbed his hand and started walking with him away from the house. Ian tried to calm down. In his head a big clock was ticking toward midnight. Of course, if he was the guy who made the Preservation then why couldn’t he make it right here in Oakdale? Because fucking
Oakdale
doesn’t get nailed in the first attack. And besides, he wanted everything to be as close as it could to the way it had been first time. That meant the city and Zach and Ness, all of it. He wouldn’t be killing himself this time, he wouldn’t be driven back by that regret, driven to recreate the world he’d abandoned. This time he would have to
Lens
it all deliberately.
We are so fucked,
he thought.

“Kylie, your mom will be way out here when the Hunters attack,” he said. “You’ll never see her again.”

Kylie let go of his hand, stopped walking and faced him. “God, will you
shut up
about that.”

“Kylie–”

“Shut. Up.”

He closed his mouth.

“Your stupid space aliens are going to wreck everything.”

“I
know
, that’s what–”

“Ian. They are not real. They can’t be. Do you get that?”

“I get that you don’t think they’re real.”

“They’re
not
real. You know, I really like you. I might
love
you. That’s big for me, Ian. But I can’t accept crazy. I’ve had plenty of crazy in my life and I don’t want any more. Even if I have to give you up, I don’t want any more. You see that car that was parked right around the corner from my house. No, don’t look now.”

“If I don’t look, how can I see it?”

“You don’t have to see it That’s Father Jim’s car. He watches me. He’s got something in his head about us that’s not real. He’s... Hey.” She pushed Ian’s hood back and her eyes got big. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing, a haircut.”

“A
haircut
.”

“I was nervous all day and wanted to do something for the... for the event.”

“Okay, I’m going home. Don’t give me that look. I’m not dumping you, but this is all I want for tonight.” She started walking back.

“Wait. Please, wait.”

She stopped, faced him at a safe distance, hands in her pockets.

“You’re right,” he said. “The aliens are impossible. I know that. Look, I’ve had plenty of crazy in my life, too. Shit happens around you when you’re a kid, it screws with your head. But I’m
not
crazy. What it is, I think I grab onto an idea and get compulsive about it. I know I go overboard and cross the line, sometimes. I know it.”

“Wait. You’re saying you
don’t
believe in the aliens?”

“I believe in the
event
, but it’s my event. I made it. All the ‘know WHO you are’ shit, the website, the whole fucking city stenciled with my words, a lot of people thinking, maybe there’s something going on for real. I made all that happen with my art. So, yeah, I believe, but maybe it’s because I
have
to. You know?”

“You’re saying it isn’t going on for real?”

“What do you think?” He put on a smile and hoped it looked real. The truth is, he didn’t know
what
he was saying. It even occurred to him that there might
not
be any aliens. What he just told Kylie about creating an event with his art, that sounded pretty good.

“Well, what the fuck, Ian? You just picked me out randomly for your ‘event’ thing?”

“No, it’s more complicated than that. Can we go someplace and talk?”

“Aren’t you going to die or something if you aren’t back in Seattle before midnight?”

“Kylie, come on.”

She gave him a long, evaluating look. “I don’t believe you.”

“About which?”

“I don’t believe you that you changed your mind or that you never believed what you’ve been saying about the aliens.”

“Why not? I’m a pretty good liar.”

She laughed, and he joined her, hoping it sounded genuine. He wasn’t sure whether it was or not. All he wanted to do was get on the fucking bike and
go
. She shook her hands fiercely, like she was trying to get something off them. “God,” she said. “You drive me crazy.

“Good or bad crazy?”

“Jesus Christ. Okay, we’ll talk. I guess it’s a good sign. Let me tell my Mom we’re going to the Lucky Diner.”

T
HEY ROLLED PAST
the diner on the Indian and kept going.

“You better stop this thing,” she shouted into his ear.

“Don’t worry,” he shouted back.

At the town limit he cranked the throttle.

R
OARING DOWN A
desolate stretch of the 410 at seventy miles an hour and the Chief started coughing.
Oh my fucking God,
Ian thought.
What now?
The engine revved, skipped a few strokes, caught briefly, then died. Ian played with the throttle, reached down and thumbed the primer. Nothing.

Out of gas.

Ian couldn’t believe it. He coasted onto the berm, braked, kicked the foot-stand down. “Fuck! I didn’t gas up. I fixed the God damn engine. I was
worried
about it. And then I left Seattle so scared I forget to gas up. Stupid fucking piece of ancient shit doesn’t even have a gauge. Fuck you, Dad! Fuck you for giving me this piece of shit!” He tore his helmet off and flung it into the night.

Kylie swung off the bike and stood by the side of the road with her arms tightly folded. “It’s not your dad’s fault. You’re the one who didn’t look in the tank. This is really wonderful, by the way. I mean, who do you think you
are?
You can’t just kidnap me, you know.”

“Take it easy.”

“You take it easy.” She dug in her pocket for her cell. “I’m calling my mom to pick us up – and she’s going to drive us back to Oakdale. You don’t want to come, you can
walk
to Seattle.”

“
No
.” With a panic reflex he slapped the phone out of her hand and it disappeared into the bushes.

Kylie’s mouth opened and she took a step back.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s no–”

“Don’t say it.”

Ian was reaching for his own cell phone, thinking maybe he could call a cab or something, when a pair of headlights appeared on the highway, traveling from the direction of Oakdale. Ian closed his phone. No cab was going to drive all the way out here to get them. The headlights got closer. A large dark-colored sedan slowed, passed them, and pulled onto the shoulder, brake lights flashing. It sat there a while, engine idling, exhaust pooling red in the tail-light glare . Leaving the engine running and the door open, the driver climbed out and started toward them. He was a big man wearing a black overcoat and a floppy-brimmed hat. Gregorian chants and the door-ajar warning buzzer issued from the Crown Vic like a weird post-modern theme-music-mix for the guy.

“Having some trouble?” Father Jim said, looking straight at Kylie.

“Ran out of gas.” Ian tried to look goofy-hapless but he probably just looked insane.

Not even glancing at him, Jim said, “Get in, Kylie. I’ll drive you home.”

Kylie threw her hands up. “No thanks.” She tramped into the brush, looking for her phone.

“Actually, we need a lift to Seattle,” Ian said.

Jim ignored him.

“Kylie, will you tell your friend we need a ride to Seattle like right now?”

She shot him a look then went back to looking for her phone, hunched over, stepping carefully, as if she were stalking a mouse.

Ian tapped Jim’s arm, like tapping a two-by-four in a sleeve. “Mister, it’s really important we get to Seattle as fast as–”

“I’m not going to Seattle. Kylie, come with me.”

“I’m looking for my
phone
.”

“Come with me. Now.” He tramped into the bushes and grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the Crown Vic.

“Hey.” Ian grabbed the arm that was holding Kylie.

Jim looked at him, like he was looking at a dog that just pissed on his shoe. “You can wait here. Somebody will come along.”

“Let me
go
,” Kylie said, twisting down on her arm.

“In the car,” Jim said, and dragged her toward the passenger door.

Kylie’s face bunched into a vivid expression of pain, and it broke Ian’s control. “
Hey
. Let her go, man.” He seized a double handful of Jim’s coat sleeve and wrenched on it, half spinning the larger man around. Jim let go of Kylie and turned the rest of the way, his stone face re-chiseled to fury. He stepped into Ian and shoved him hard with both hands, striking Ian’s chest like a pair of steel pistons, knocking Ian off his feet. He hit the road, the back of his head bouncing on the pavement, stunning him.

He sat up, tried to shake it off. For a few moments it was hard to draw a breath. Outside himself with fury and frustration, Ian rolled onto his feet and charged Jim, ramming his head into the priest’s belly. Jim grunted and staggered back. Ian came up, swinging his fists wildly. Jim blocked most of the blows then threw one of his own, his big fist slamming into the side of Ian’s head, knocking him dizzy. Ian lurched around, vision doubled.

Jim hit him again.

Like a brick landing on Ian’s jaw, sending him to his knees. Ian spat blood, raised his hands to fend off the next blow, and Kylie screamed.

“Stop! Stop hitting him. I’m getting in the car. Jim, see, I’m getting in the car.”

Everything
stopped. Ian on his knees, his mouth bloody and hands up defensively before Father Jim, as if waiting for some terrible sacrament. The priest standing over him, a giant, the knuckles of his clenched fist skinned raw. Kylie half in the passenger side of the Crown Vic, one foot on the berm, leaning out to watch what happened next. Ian swayed on his knees, taking it all in – especially the tremendous fury of the priest. Like one of those rodeo bulls boxed in, waiting to explode. If Jim threw one more punch he would be out of the fucking box. Probably he’d pound Ian until there wasn’t anything left breathing
to
pound.

“We can go some place and
talk
,” Kylie said, pleading, almost sobbing. “You’re always saying you want to talk to me alone. We can do that. Alone. Tonight, right now. Just please don’t hit him anymore.”

Ian braced himself. The priest dropped his fist, turned toward the car and started to walk away. Ian spat another gob of blood, gave the man one step and then dove forward, grabbed his ankle and hauled up on it, dumping Jim face down on the road. Ian lurched around him like a drunk and made for the car. Jim was up and after him instantly. Ian threw himself behind the wheel, popped the emergency brake. Jim clawed at his arm. Ian jerked the clutch into DRIVE, grabbed hold of Kylie’s jacket (she was still half out of the car), and jumped the gas. The big car roared forward, rear wheels churning gravel. Jim lost his grip and spun away. In the mirror he was a red-glare tail-light devil and then he was nothing, lost in the dark. The Crown Vic fishtailed and screeched until Ian got it under control.

Kylie slammed her door and buckled up. “God, will you slow
down
.”

Ian pounded the dash with his fist, stood on the gas. “We’re not going to fucking
make it.
”

POST HUMAN POSTSCRIPT

B
UT THEY DID.

Ian drove like a lunatic most of the way, hunched over the wheel, intense, focused on the road, wailing about missing the first Advent. Basically out of his mind. Kylie cinched her seatbelt tight across her lap and white-knuckled the ride. She didn’t try to talk to him – reason with him. He was driving so fast, any break in his concentration and she feared they would careen off the road. But when they hit the I-5 corridor between Tacoma and Seattle the traffic thickened and he
had
to slow down. Some of the tension drained out of Kylie. Soon they passed the big green neon T that had replaced the R when Tulley’s bought the old Rainer Brewery on the south side of Seattle. Kylie said, “So, we’re here, right?”