Lost Highway (7 page)

Quill

I
was wrong when I told Odessa I
feared nothing. Being caged terrifies me. I don’t realize this fact until I
wake from the head injury to find my wrists chained to the wall. Yanking at the
restraints, I learn what Tom’s trophies did long ago. There is no escape.

Odessa stands in the shadows,
swaying and humming. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s losing her
humanity.

“Unlock me,” I say, keeping my
voice calm.

“This is the only way you’ll
let me.”

As Odessa inches out of the
shadows, her fair eyes dart around the room before focusing on me. She seems
smaller now.

I don’t know the proper
response to this situation. She’s clearly dangerous. I know I can kill her if
she gets closer. If she dies, though, no one will unlatch the chains. Spending
years or an eternity in this basement does not interest me.

“What do you want?” I ask as
she steps closer.

“You push me away. I need
comfort.”

Odessa straddles my legs and
lowers herself onto my lap. Her movements lack the jarring nature of the
unhinged Death Dealers. She’s still in control enough to move smoothly. Her
gaze on mine also shows a hint of sanity lingering around the edges.

“Does it hurt when I touch
you?” she asks, cupping my face. “Were you hurt as a child, and affection
bothers you?”

Answering her with the truth
isn’t the correct response. I realize my need to be correct does make me seem
like a robot. Human contact is natural, and Odessa wants to feel safe. I can
give her enough comfort to get free. After that, I’m not sure what happens.

“I’ve never known affection,” I
tell her.

Odessa nods and lowers her
cheek to my shoulder. Resting against me, she shudders and relaxes.

“I miss hugs,” she whispers. “I
never realized how good they felt before.”

“If you unchain me, I’ll hug
you, but it’s not safe to have me locked up.”

“You’re lying,” she says,
lifting her head and staring at me with her glassy eyes, “about the hug. I’ll
let you go when I’m done. You can kill me and go back to your old life.
Everything will be fine then. For now, no lying.”

Odessa presses her cheek
against my chest, and I attempt to be patient. As much as I want to break these
chains, my freedom will come from soothing Odessa before she goes mad and uses
one of the nearby tools to end me.

“My mother never hugged me
after Athena died,” Odessa says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “She never
told me that I was to blame. She never said she hated me. I still received
gifts for my birthdays. They still helped me with my homework. They still told
me they loved me, but my parents never hugged me after that day. I think
pretending they didn’t blame me was too difficult if I was in their arms the
way Athena never would be again.”

“Adolescents are naturally
impulsive and easily distracted. You made a mistake, but you didn’t make it out
of malice. You made it because you were at the age when making mistakes is
common.”

“Did you make mistakes as a
teenager?”

“Yes,” I say, thinking back to
my training. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Like the way you brought me
here,” she whispers in my ear, taunting me.

“I needed a distraction, and
you provided one. I didn’t make a mistake.”

When Odessa sighs, her warm
breath on my neck sends a shock of heat through me. The feeling both
invigorates and enrages me. I want to push her away, but my hands can’t reach
her.

“My little sister wanted to
raise ponies,” Odessa says, caressing my cheek with hers.

I feel her tears against my
skin. Her fingers play with my shirt, and I fear she will undress me next.
How
far will I need to go to gain freedom from the chains?

“Did she have your eyes?” I
ask.

Odessa stares at me, and I see
more of her returning. She thinks for a moment, struggling to remember.
Nodding, she smiles slightly.

“The voices down here will only
show you the negative moments of your life,” I explain, gaining her attention.
“They won’t let you recall how your parents loved you. Or how your sister
enjoyed her life. Or how you suffered for your sin. They will only want you to
die, so you can join them. They’re petty and cling to this world rather than
moving on.”

“Maybe they can’t move on.
Maybe no one in the Lost Highway can move on. We might be trapped here
forever.”

“I killed Tom in the kitchen,
but his voice doesn’t haunt me. How many trophies died in your room? Did you
hear them?”

“Maybe they can’t move on
because they died down here,” she says, glancing around the basement’s bloodied
walls.

“Or maybe they cling to the
suffering of this place in the same way you cling to your sister’s death. It
defined them as much as your guilt defines you.”

Odessa stares at me, but her
expression is muddled between my words and those in her head. She grips my
shirt, searching for an anchor. The electric charge she infected me with still
tickles my flesh. I want to break free and shove her away. Instead, I lean
forward and press my lips to Odessa’s.

While I fear she’ll devour me
in her oversexed way, her lips surprise me by easing away and curling into a
smile.

“No lies,” she says and returns
her head to my chest. “Robots don’t kiss girls.”

Her response irritates me. I am
not a robot. I have feelings.
Isn’t rage an emotion? Annoyance? Pride?
I
feel what I need to feel to survive.

The heat in my gut is a feeling
too. More proof I’m not a machine.

“I don’t want to be chained
up,” I admit after a minute with the voices taunting me with my future locked
here with them.

“Just a little longer and then
I’ll let you free.”

“What if you die in the next
few minutes? I’ll be trapped.”

“You left me in the coffin,”
she says, sitting up and glaring at me.

The clarity in her eyes makes
me smile. She’s still human enough to hold a grudge.

Odessa studies me. “You’re
smiling.”

“I’m not a robot.”

“No, I guess you’re not,” she
says, cupping my face. “Or you’re a learning robot, and you’ve assumed human
traits after watching me.”

I frown harshly, but Odessa
only laughs and pats my face. She slides off of my lap and smiles at me.

“Are you going to kill me when
I let you free?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Odessa’s smile widens. “A
learning robot would be smart enough not to say that.”

“Stop calling me a robot.”

Sitting on her knees, she leans
closer and whispers, “I’m just playing. I now know for a fact that you’re all
man.”

Odessa glances down at my
erection and then back at me. She winks before leaning over to unlock the first
metal cuff. I sigh with relief when I’m free. We stand and look at each other.
Odessa is still smiling, but she also looks ready to run.

“Would an apology fix this?”
she asks, backing away.

“I ought to lock you away.”

Odessa’s gaze flashes to the
coffin. “Or you could view this as a learning experience.”

“You hit me in the head with a
bat.”

“Something you took like a
champ.”

Odessa runs out of space once
her back reaches the wall. I stand over her and consider my options. While I’m
angry, I also feel relief at seeing clarity in her eyes. I want to punish her,
but locking her in the coffin will only give a win to the basement’s voices.
Hurting her won’t help with a woman accustomed to using pain to relieve her
guilt.

Sighing, I turn and walk to the
stairs. Odessa quickly follows. She’s no doubt worried I will lock her in the
basement. I leave the door open for her to rush through. When she stands in the
kitchen, Odessa still seems smaller than when I first brought her to the cabin.
Her humanity remains intact, but I can’t be sure for how much longer.

Odessa

Q
uill holds a grudge after I
knock him over the head and chain him to the wall. I don’t blame him, but I
also can’t really remember why I thought attacking him was such a great idea.
As insane as my behavior was, I feel better after enjoying his warmth.

Curled up on the couch with my
eyes closed, I imagine his rough stubble against my cheek. As long as I focus
on that particular memory, the chaos of the Lost Highway can’t touch me.

The real Quill’s face appears
above mine as he leans over the back of the couch.

“Put on your shoes and jacket.
I need to run an errand, and you’re coming with me.”

My thoughts immediately seize
on him ditching me somewhere. I don’t blame him for wanting me to go, but I
still hope he’ll kill me quickly rather than handing me over to another Death
Dealer.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To the outpost for supplies.”

I think to ask questions, but
my mind remains numb. Besides, Quill is probably on his last nerve with my interrogations.

Once my tennis shoes are on,
Quill hands me a jacket a few sizes too large. He waits for me to complain, so
I keep my mouth shut. We leave the cabin and clearing behind. Having forgotten
how dense the woods are, I look up still expecting to see the faux sky. All I
find is the canopy of trees.

“Who runs the outpost?” I
whisper after we walk for long enough for my feet to hurt.

“I don’t know who they are. Tom
called them scavengers. They remove the abandoned cars from the highway and
gather items from inside. They’d have taken your bags if I hadn’t gotten to
them first.”

Quill speaks in a normal voice,
so I stop whispering. “What do you give them in exchange for what they sell?”

His only answer is the bouncing
bag on his back. I think to inquire more, but the woods suffocate my curiosity.
The only goal I have for the rest of our trek is to keep up with an unyielding
Quill.

Once we reach the highway, we
pause in the brush on the side of the road. Quill studies the woods while I
squat next to him. I don’t see any sign of my car. The two-lane road is clear
and quiet.

“Be ready to run,” Quill tells
me.

Nodding, I keep quiet and
follow closely behind him. Stepping onto the highway, I notice a crackle of
electricity in the air. The sky is brighter here, yet I only see gray clouds
mirrored back at me.

More than once, I hear the
sounds of cars racing by. My gaze keeps lifting upward, searching for the
noises.

I bump into a stopped Quill. Despite
his disappointed frown, I’m only interested in finding comfort. My mind races
with possible threats, and I struggle against the urge to run into the highway.
Much like in the basement, voices call out to me and promise a quick death.

Quill roughly places my hand
against his cheek. The coarse stubble awakens a warm, inviting sensation inside
me. I smile relieved at him. He doesn’t smile back, but I notice his frown
ease.

We begin walking again. Every
time the voices tempt me to run into the highway, I caress my cheek in the way
my fingers did against his face. Though I don’t feel grounded in this world,
Quill is as much a part of the Lost Highway as the road and mile-high trees.
He’s anchored here, and I can survive as long as he keeps me close.

Quill

T
om told me about the outpost on
the first night I spent at the cabin. He loved sharing information. Thinking
back, I realize he expected me to protect him. I’d only assumed at the time he
wanted me to hunt down new trophies for him because he was too lazy to do it
himself.

Using my rifle scope, I search
for movement on the other side of the highway. I rarely use my guns anymore, considering
how rare bullets are here. Besides, I find killing up close and personal more
rewarding.

I glance back at Odessa and
find her staring at my back rather than keeping watch. I don’t think she even
sees me. Soon, she’ll lose too much of her mind, and no amount of comfort will
bring her back. Remembering how her body felt close to mine, I both hope for
and fear the day I lose her.

The outpost mimics the sky
bound corner store visible on sunny days. Today is overcast, and I worry about
a storm. In her current state, Odessa wouldn’t do well in the woods overnight.
Hurrying toward the store, I focus my mind on the task.

The air is rich with the aroma
of cooking meat. Odessa shows no interest in the odor. She no longer asks for
food at all. I took two days to stop eating here, but Odessa held on longer to
the old ways.

The scavengers at the outpost
hold onto the old ways too. They leave the “Welcome” sign on the front door
even though there’s nothing welcoming about their demeanors. Ana’s been in the
Lost Highway longer than many current residents, and her ruddy, cracked skin
shows hints of peeling away. While she’s kept her basic sanity, her humanity
long ago disappeared.

Pedro is her partner. I don’t
know how they met, or if they like each other. During one of my visits, Ana was
alone. When I returned, she was with Pedro. He still smiles occasionally, but
the humor never reaches his hollowed eyes. They share the same sunken gazes as
most Death Dealers.

Entering today, I’m bothered by
their eyes like I’ve never been before. I see the same glossiness in Odessa’s
gaze, and I’m not ready for her to go away yet. Behind me, she hesitates before
walking into the small store. Her nose crinkles as she notices the smell, and I
see her gaze searching mine for reassurance.

“We get supplies and then
leave,” I tell her.

Odessa nods, but she isn’t
fully with me. Her eyes lose focus, and she stops grimacing at the meat odor.

At the front counter, Ana
stares at me with her hungry eyes and wonders if I brought her anything good.

“What do you need?” she asks,
and Pedro walks out from the back.

“Do you have anything fresh?” I
ask Ana.

“We got some peaches that
didn’t rot yet. I think an apple or two are still good.”

I walk to a wooden box where I
pick through rotten fruit to find the few remaining decent ones. I show each
one to Ana, so she’ll know what I’m taking.

“What do you need fruit for?”
she asks, eyeing my rifle.

“Do you have any music or
movies?”

Pedro shows me a box filled
with DVDs and CDs. Nearby, Odessa stares at a car seat. I know she’s wondering
what happened to the kid. I grab her by the arm and tug her over to me.

“Pick something to listen to and
watch.”

Odessa stares at me, and I
fight the urge to shake her. Instead, I cup her cheek. When my thumb runs over
her chapped bottom lip, Odessa’s eyes flood with emotion. She’s immediately
back with me as if awaken from a trance.

“How many can I take?”

“I have enough to pay for
whatever you want.”

While Odessa flips quickly
through the DVDs, I keep an eye on Ana.

“How much would you want for
her?” Pedro asks me. “We got a police dog now. We could trade.”

Odessa glances at them and
asks, “What can the dog do?”

“Hunt,” Ana says. “Watch for
Death Dealers.”

“I can do that stuff too,”
Odessa says to me, and I frown until realizing she’s joking. “I can also lift
my leg and pee on stuff.”

Ana doesn’t smile while Pedro
laughs for too long. I hear him giggling even after Odessa shows me the CDs and
a single DVD she chose.

“A lot of the DVDs are porn or
birthing videos,” she explains.

Nodding, I set them on the
counter next to the fruit. “Do you have anything else to eat?”

Ana’s eyes nearly glow with
hunger, but she isn’t imagining the same food as I am.

“Any candy or chips?” I ask
Pedro when Ana doesn’t answer.

He points to a shelf behind us.
Feeling uneasy with Ana watching Odessa with those ravenous eyes, I hurry to
the bucket with the snacks. I find a Cheez-It, a few mini candy bags, and a
pack of gum. I drop them next to my other supplies.

“I’m taking this,” I tell Ana
and then set the duffle bag on the counter. “I brought seven. That’s more than
enough for these supplies.”

“Eight would be better,” Ana
says, looking at Odessa.

“Unless you’re the eighth head,
I don’t see your point.”

I never learned to negotiate,
and I’m slow at picking up new skills in the Lost Highway. One reason I killed
Tom was how he kept bartering with me. If I did this for him, he’d do that for
me. I’d rather just kill him and do whatever I wanted.

Ana realizes I’ve been around
longer than she has for one very specific reason. She survives by scavenging
while I make my way by killing other killers.

“Seven will do,” she says,
opening the bag.

Her eyes light up, and she
shows Pedro. As they scurry to the backroom with my bag, Odessa peeks around a
corner where a dog growls. She looks back at me and sighs.

“You wouldn’t want that dog,”
she whispers, returning to my side.

I don’t mention how I wouldn’t
trade her for even the best dog.

Odessa looks over our stash
before I add them to my supply bag. “What exactly did you give them?” she asks,
though I sense she already knows.

“They like heads. I don’t ask
questions, and you shouldn’t either. Just don’t look in the standalone freezer
in the basement.”

Odessa studies my face for a
long time, and I know she’ll touch me soon. I prepare myself for the shock of
heat she causes when her warm fingers graze my skin.

Odessa doesn’t disappoint.
Though I endure her touch better now, the hot ache in my gut followed by the
erection leaves me edgy and vulnerable. These are two dangerous qualities when
still facing a three-hour walk to reach the cabin before dark.