Hope and Undead Elvis - By Ian Thomas Healy Page 0,10

to one side, staying quiet and letting Hope finish her cry. He could have climbed back into his car and left them behind, but instead he waited.

Hope's crying jag wound itself down as she huddled in Undead Elvis's arms. The tears stopped and she wiped her eyes and looked around. Her eyes fixed on the chromed plastic logo on the side of Gabe's car: El Camino. She sniffled and stared at the letters, as if they had something important to tell her. "What does that mean, el camino?"

"It means the way, señorita."

"I like that. On The Way. We're taking The Way home."

Undead Elvis chuckled. "I like that too, Li'l lady."

Gabe reached down and offered her his hand. She took it and let him help her to her feet. "I'm sorry I freaked out," she said. "This whole weird end of the world thing has me so on edge. I don't know whether to stand my ground or run like hell."

"Run from what?" asked Undead Elvis.

Hope pointed to the back of The Way.

A black bird perched on the tailgate and watched them with beady eyes like polished obsidian. Gabe stepped back and crossed himself. Even Undead Elvis looked startled. "Go on, get out of here," he shouted. The bird canted its head to one side and blinked, but didn't move.

Hope didn't have a rock handy, but she did have some sand that had clumped from her vomit. She tried not to think about it as she picked up a handful of gritty wet sand and threw it at the bird. It squawked its indignation at her and flapped away.

"We'd better get going before more of them birds show up," said Gabe. "They scare me."

"Yeah, those birds are bad news in my book," said Undead Elvis. "That was a sharp throw, Li'l lady."

Hope wiped her hand dry on clean sand. "I used to play catch with my brother." A lump formed in her throat. "I haven't talked to him in years, and he's probably gone now. God, I miss him. I didn't miss him before all this happened."

Undead Elvis climbed into the back of The Way. "Maybe he'll come on back. I did."

Gabe started the car. "Even if he doesn't, señorita, he's probably happy to know you're thinking of him."

"Wherever he is, he's probably in a better place than this," said Hope. "Stupid desert."

"What makes the desert beautiful is somewhere it hides a well," said Gabe. "Antoine de Saint-Exupery said that."

"We could use a well right now. And a drive-through." Hope's abused stomach turned over. She wished she had some crackers or bread or anything to help settle the gnawing emptiness.

The Way topped a rise in the road and beyond it they saw the source of the smoke. The smoldering remains of an overturned minivan lay in the middle of the road.

Chapter Five

Hope and the Shepherds

In Hope's mind's eye, she could picture the minivan as it had looked before the accident. It would have been a typical budget box, several years old, maybe with some rust spots on the lower quarter panels and a dent in one door from a grocery buggy mishap. The inside would have been a jumble of food crumbs, bits of broken toys, and lost homework. There would have been a soccer ball sticker in the back window and a bumper sticker that said My child is an honor student.

Grim reality had taken the minivan from that imagined state, blown a front tire at high speed, and set it on fire after it rolled several times.

A charred corpse hung from shreds of a seat belt in the passenger seat. Hope didn't see any evidence of smaller corpses in the middle or rear seats, for which she was grateful. She'd have broken apart into splinters if there had been dead children.

When the van tumbled, pieces of it had torn away, as well as whatever items the occupants had packed inside it. Many of these objects were already sinking into the sand where they'd landed.

Gabe shut off The Way. "Quick, grab what you can and get it onto the road so we can search it."

The thought of food helped Hope to move her feet with urgency. She and Undead Elvis waded into the soft sand on one side of the road and tossed or dragged whatever they could reach onto the pavement. Gabe worked the opposite side.

Hope found the jeans-wrapped legs of a shoeless man sticking from a deep drift. Overcoming her squeamishness, she grabbed his ankles and pulled. The