All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(50)

I met Colton’s eyes one last time, nodded, and headed back to the car.





Emmett was where I’d left him, curled on the Porsche’s back seat like a little kid, his face pressed into the leather. I got into the driver’s seat and started the car. The Porsche purred, and the slightest rumble ran through the seat beneath me, and for an instant, I wasn’t hurting from head to toe. There was just me, and the car, and the night, and miles and miles of highway.

“Emmett?”

No answer.

I reached back and patted his arm. “You going to puke? If so, let’s do it before we start driving.”

He mumbled something into the seat.

“I can’t hear you.”

Raising his head, his face blotchy from the alcohol and the crying, he ran his forearm over his eyes. In the careful, overly-enunciated speech of the truly wasted, he said, “I am not going to puke, mother-fucker.” Then he gagged and buried his face in his elbow, which slightly ruined the effect.

“It’s your car,” I said with a shrug, easing off Kaden’s lawn and back onto the road. “Buckle up.”

We drove slowly at first, down the foothills and back into Vehpese proper. At night, the string of street lights through downtown glowed like orange balloons on very loose strings, drifting overhead and throwing flimsy gray shadows in every directions. The Greasy Spoon was shut when we passed it, as was Spin-Stop, and the Outdoor Shop. Bighorn Burger was open, though, and behind the plate glass windows, a sizeable crowd hustled, shifted, and crashed as people tried to get their food. A whiff of burgers and deep-fried potatoes reached us, even in the car, and my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since—I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten.

“I’m hungry,” Emmett said from the backseat. “And I feel sick.”

“Jesus.”

I swerved off into the parking lot, ran through the drive-thru, and when we got to the speaker, Kimmy’s voice crackled, “Welcome to Bighorn Burger. What can I get you today?”

“Hi, Kimmy.”

“Vie? Oh my God. Where have you been?”

“What? Damn it. I completely forgot.” My Saturday afternoon shift. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. “Was Sara—”

“Pissed? Ballistic? Nuclear? Yeah, about.”

“Damn it.”

“I want a hamburger,” Emmett called from the back seat.

“All right.”

“I want a hamburger,” he shouted, undoing his seatbelt. He clambered forward, trying to get into the driver’s seat.

“Get back there,” I said, twisting around and trying to push him back into his seat.

“Vie?” Kimmy asked. “Is everything ok?”

“Fine,” I grunted as Emmett crashed into me with all his weight. “Just give me a minute.”

“I want a hamburger.” Emmett lunged over me towards the window. “Extra fries. A Sprite. I—” He swallowed convulsively, and his face was suddenly very pale and very sweaty.

“Two number two’s, Kimmy,” I shouted. “Just water to drink.” Then I kicked open the door, dragged Emmett out, and held his shoulders as he vomited into the rock garden. It went on for a surprisingly long time; apparently, this boy could not hold his liquor, but he sure as hell gave it a solid try. A horn honked behind us, as one of Vehpese’s less patient citizens motioned for me to move the car. I flipped him the bird and rubbed Emmett’s back until the heaving and gasping and panting had pretty much stopped.

“Better?” I said.

He just moaned.

Somehow I got him back in the car, and we pulled forward. I didn’t have any cash, since I’d given it all to Remy for the booze earlier, but when Kimmy appeared in the window, her braces flashing like aluminum foil at a picnic, Emmett dragged a wallet out of his pocket and handed it to me without saying a word.

“Wow,” Kimmy said, leaning out of the window for a better look. “Is that—” she gave a nervous giggle when Emmett moved and then she retreated so quickly it looked like the window was sucking her back into the building. “Just a minute.”

Bighorn Burger’s window rolled shut, but Kimmy’s voice still carried as she screeched about me, and Emmett Bradley, and the car in that order. When she came back with a paper sack and two drinks, she said, “Oh boy. Better get going. Sara is not happy with you.”

“Thanks, Kimmy.”

From deeper in the building, Sara’s voice boomed out, and Kimmy passed me the food and drink. “Good luck, Vie.”

I drove away as fast as I dared, jolting the Porsche with extra gas as we slid onto the road and out into the flat, empty darkness. I didn’t go far, though. Once we reached the edge of town, I stopped at a small city park. It had an old-fashioned jungle gym that looked like it had been welded together out of old pipes, and mulch so old that it had been bleached white in the sun, and a straggly stand of cottonwoods lumped up against the stars to the west. Emmett, head between his knees, might as well have been dead. He probably wished that he was.

“You still want to eat something?”

“My mouth tastes like shit.”

“You threw up an awful lot. Why don’t you rinse your mouth out?”

He opened the door, rinsed, and spat. When he pulled the door shut, he leaned against the glass. Without looking at me, he asked, “Will you leave me alone? Please?”