Hope and Undead Elvis - By Ian Thomas Healy Page 0,12

food. Her hands shook as she passed the tiny bag to Undead Elvis. "Pl-please," she said. "I'm afraid I'll spill them."

Undead Elvis tore the top off the baggie and the faint aroma of peanuts was the best, most appetizing thing Hope had ever smelled in her life. She held out her hands as Undead Elvis shook some peanuts out into them and gave the rest to Gabe. "I don't need anything right now. Fella like me could stand to lose a little weight, anyhow."

Hope forced herself not to cram all the peanuts into her mouth at once. She ate them one at a time, savoring the bright saltiness and the oily, sharp flavor of the nuts. Saliva shot into her parched mouth so hard it made her tongue cramp. She pulverized each peanut into paste before swallowing it, making the meager meal last as long as possible. When finished, she licked her palm, oblivious to any dirt or remnants of Mrs. Shepherd's char. She closed her eyes and sighed with contentment. Post-coital bliss couldn't be any better than the feeling of food in one's stomach after being hungry for what could have been days.

She rooted through the rest of the purse. Kleenex. Lipstick. Nail color. Receipts. A packet of Always pads which she knew she would need sooner or later. And at the very bottom of the purse, a pregnancy test, of all things. This last she prepared to hurl into the sand when Gabe's gentle hand closed about her wrist. "What?" she asked.

"It's salvage," he said. "If not now, perhaps later, señorita."

She shrugged. "Okay, if you say so. What have you guys found?"

Gabe found a pair of those ugly boots Hope had seen so many girls wearing. They were in the middle of the burned suitcase and had been protected by layers of charred clothing. Hope slipped her bare feet into them. They were loose but better than running around barefoot on hot pavement in the unending sun.

Undead Elvis couldn't get the locked box open. Hope picked up a broken brake rotor from the debris around the van and held it up, ready to smash open the case, but Gabe stopped her. "Wait, I've got a screwdriver in the car. We can pop open the lock." He went to rummage around in the back of The Way.

"What do you think is in here?" she asked Undead Elvis.

"A pistol," he said.

"Really? Why?"

"A case that size that's locked. What else would it be, Li'l lady?"

"I don't know."

Gabe returned with a flathead screwdriver. The plastic handle looked like it had been chewed on by a dog with a flamethrower. He set the case on its side and placed the tip of the screwdriver against the latch. "Beat on that, señorita."

"You don't have to keep calling me that." Hope raised the brake rotor in both hands. "I keep thinking you're talking to somebody else." She swung it down against the screwdriver. The case popped open without fanfare, spilling a chromed pistol and box of ammunition onto the road.

"Looks like a thirty-eight," said Undead Elvis. "I seen a few of them in my lifetime, long ago."

"Only six bullets in here," said Gabe after opening the bullet box.

"You should carry it," said Hope to Undead Elvis. "You were a soldier before, right?"

"I was indeed, Li'l lady, but I think you ought to carry it instead."

"I agree," said Gabe.

"Why me? I never even held a gun before, much less shot one."

"You have more to protect than do either of us." Gabe stood, glaring at a black-feathered bird which sat on the minivan wreckage and watched them.

"What are you talking about?"

Undead Elvis stood as well and pulled Hope to her feet. "I think we oughtta leave."

"What are those birds?" Hope followed the two men back to The Way. "What do you guys know that you're not telling me?" She staggered as one of her new boots flopped to one side; they were too large for her feet. "Hey, I'm the one with the gun here. Tell me!"

Undead Elvis reached through The Way's broken rear window. "Hand it to me. I'll load it for you, Li'l lady. Then you can threaten us better."

She surrendered the pistol him. "I'm not… I mean…" She glanced at the side mirror and watched the bird flutter away. "I don't like them either."

The wrecked minivan shrank to a speck behind them and after awhile, Hope couldn't see it any longer. Her stomach began to twist around itself as it sought more than the