Cages and Those Who Hold the Keys

13

I didn’t have to touch anything for the first ten seconds because, as Daddy Bliss had told me, the Road was in control. My rear tires spun madly for a second or two, screaming burned rubber and churning up a lot of smoke, and then the car shot forward, slamming me back against the seat. Fairlane gunned it—or, rather, the Road gunned it for him—and flew ahead, but a few seconds later, just as the crowd disappeared from my rear-view mirror and the safety railings began, control of the vehicles was returned to us and I gripped the wheel, shifted, and floored the accelerator, coming up fast on him.

For a few seconds, we were side-by-side, both of us increasing speed, both of our cars shuddering, both of us being followed by bulky overhead shadows that finally swept down, causing both of us to hunch so they couldn’t touch us, and just as quickly as they had appeared, the Highway People vanished and we got back to business.

And that’s when Fairlane began cheating. He slant-drove across my front and squealed into my lane. I resisted the impulse to break and instead sped up, ramming into his rear bumper; once, gently; the second time, not so much; and then with everything the car had, taking off part of his rear bumper and slewing him back into his own lane and against the railing where he scraped along, throwing off sparks for about a hundred yards. Some of the sparks flew toward my face, a couple of them landing on my cheek and burning the skin, but it was quick, the wind saw to that, and the pain kept me focused, kept my grip tight on the wheel, and I ran up alongside Fairlane, keeping him pinned between my car and the railing, and he was screaming, and I was laughing in panic, and when another set of sparks came spitting over against my face I jerked the wheel to the left, shot back into my lane, and surged forward.

It didn’t take Fairlane long to right his vehicle and close the distance between us, but at least now he’d gotten the idea and remained in his own lane, and pretty soon we were side-by-side again—

—and that’s when I discovered that Fairlane wasn’t the only person here who cheated, because I looked ahead and saw the flashing visibar lights of the Sheriff’s Department cruiser coming at us, roaring down on top of us, right the fuck smack in the middle, it would hit us both unless one of us did something, and I heard myself screaming “A fucking game of CHICKEN? This all boils down to a game of CHICKEN?” but Fairlane either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because he moved closer to me, so I returned the favor, our cars pressing against the each other’s side, neither one of us moving to get out of the cruiser’s way—there was nowhere to go, the railings made sure of that—but whoever was driving the cruiser wasn’t budging, just kept barreling down on top of us, and when I saw the lights of the burning torches flicker in the distance I knew we were almost done, this was it, now or never, and I figured, fuck it, I didn’t have to prove my nerve to anyone, so I took a chance and stood on the brake, spinning over into the right lane, but Fairlane didn’t follow suit, he just kept burning forward, looking back over his shoulder at me and laughing, and when he turned back toward the road it was too late, the cruiser was right there, and the two vehicles impacted at over a hundred miles an hour; the cruiser caught it hard in the left front, went up on its side, ricocheted, spun out, and walloped into the railing a twisted mass of steel, flames, and shattered glass. Fairlane was horizontal across the center and caught a shattering side punch from the cruiser as it spun out; he hit the railing, spun out a second time, flipped onto his side, and then scraped along for a few yards until he flipped tail-over onto his top, snapping his neck and sliding to a stop, leaving a long, wide, dark, wet trail behind as the cruiser caught fire, sputtered once, and then blew apart like an M-80 tossed into a can of kerosene.

I stared at the destruction for a few seconds, then put the car in gear, floored it, and shot through the flames and debris to cross the finish line to wild, deafening cheers. True to Ciera’s word, everyone and everything that had been at the beginning of the road were now here at the end.

I slammed on the brakes and threw open the door. I couldn’t get out of that car fast enough. Staggering back toward the finish line, I watched as Fairlane tore himself from his burning vehicle and stumbled out into the middle of the road, both arms missing from the elbows down, spurting blood, his head twisted at an impossible angle, black smoke skirling from his charred, sluicing flesh.

He shook his stumps at me, and then began to dance as the concert speakers once again began blasting “Highway To Hell.”

Why aren’t you dead? I thought.

“Because you can’t kill a demon,” said Hummer, stepping up beside me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about Fairlane. He digs the pain. Always has. Any excuse for more Repairs makes him happy.”

I spun around and surprised him with an uppercut to the jaw that knocked him squarely on his ass.

“Who was driving the goddamned cruiser?” I screamed.

“Nobody,” he replied, massaging his jaw and spitting out a small glob of blood.

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because I didn’t know, all right? None of us did. The Road gets a wild hair up its ass sometimes. It decided that it wanted someone to bleed, so….” He touched his jaw again, winced, and then stuck out his arm. I helped him to his feet and fully expected him to slug me into the next decade.

“Nice punch you got there,” he said. “So now we’re even.”

“Driver!” called Daddy Bliss from atop the car-cube. “You have, indeed, proven yourself worthy.”

“Of what?” I shouted back at him.

“Of the Road’s trust, and our family’s respect and affection.”

Ciera pulled up alongside me in the meat wagon, got out, and handed me the keys. “You did good, you know that, right?”

I could not find any words. The full impact of what had just happened hit me all at once, and my legs turned to rubber. She helped into the driver’s seat, smoothing down my hair and laying her hand against my cheek. “I really hope I get to see you again someday.”

I looked at her, swallowed once, and finally found my voice. “What happens now?”

She tilted her head to the left, indicating the darkened road ahead. “You go home. Just drive straight for a little while, and you’ll be fine.” “Just…drive. That’s it?” “That’s it.” A small orange-red stain began to spread across the horizon. The crowd began to disperse. “Time’s up, Driver,” said Daddy Bliss. “A new day with new responsibilities awaits us all. Off with you, dear boy; off with you.” Ciera closed the door, kissed her finger tips, and pressed them against my lips. I started the meat wagon and drove away, never once looking in the rear-view mirror.

It took only a few minutes before the sunlight was right in my eyes. I blinked, slowed down, and dug around until I found a pair of sunglasses on the passenger-side floor. I knew they hadn’t been there when I left Cedar Hill. Ciera or someone else had known that I’d be driving into the rising sun, and so left them for me.

Ten minutes. I drove for only another ten minutes before I saw the exit sign for Cedar Hill. I took the exit, turned right—

—and found myself on 21^st Street.

I braked, looking around, confused. There was no traffic at the moment, no early-morning joggers on the sidewalks, no bicycle riders cruising along the curb…nor was there any sign of the exit I’d just taken. My guess is, had anyone been there to see, it would have looked like the meat wagon had just appeared out of thin air, and me with it.

Tired—Christ, I was suddenly so tired. And hungry. It felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, despite the meal Nova had prepared for me earlier.

Do something normal, I thought. Something banal.

So a breakfast at Bob Evans it would be.

I’d completely forgotten about the cash I still had and so drove to my bank to get some money from the ATM. I withdrew thirty dollars and was walking back to the meat wagon when I glanced down at the receipt to check my balance and damn near tripped over my own feet.

According to the receipt in my hand, my checking account had a balance of seventy-five thousand dollars. I went back to the ATM, inserted my card, and asked for a checking account balance once more. Still seventy-five grand. I checked my savings account: seventy-five thousand. I suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite.