start it up again."
"I won't. I'm not really blonde."
Undead Elvis snickered.
"Probably the last bottle job I'll ever have. I'm sure there aren't any more now." She pulled down the visor and checked her reflection. God, she looked so old. Or maybe she was just tired. Either way, her mouse-brown roots were already peeking from underneath locks the color of corn silk.
When would her face start showing her pregnancy? She'd always heard about the healthy glow of pregnant women, but Hope saw nothing but exhaustion in her eyes and skin. She stuck her tongue out at herself, a juvenile gesture that made her feel a little better, and then slapped the visor back up to the roof.
Clutch in… key turned… and The Way's engine returned to its throaty rumble once more. Hope drove with more caution and had no further losses of control. As she glanced in the mirror from time to time, she could see the gravel track disappearing into the dunes behind them as if it had never existed. "Hey, the fruit isn't vanishing, is it?"
"No, Li'l lady," said Undead Elvis after checking the bed through the broken window.
"Well, that's something."
"Sure is."
"There's the road up ahead." The paved two-lane highway stretched through the desert sands like a black ribbon on a pale golden package. "Which way to Graceland from here?"
Undead Elvis didn't hesitate. "Left."
"Left it is." As Hope slowed, she flipped on the turn signal. Just because the world had ended didn't mean she couldn't follow the old rules. It made her feel comfortable to do so. She even kept her speed at fifty-five once on the main road, not because she expected to get pulled over, but because she needed to feel something hadn't changed.
She glanced down at the fuel gauge. It hadn't moved in all the time she'd been in the car. Maybe it was frozen in time like the sun. Did that mean they could drive forever? "Hey, Elvis, how much gas do you think we have?"
"More than none."
"Enough to get to Graceland?"
"I dunno."
"What if we run out?"
"We can try to find some more."
Hope shivered. "What if there isn't any more?"
"Then we'll walk."
Hope sighed. One thing she already understood about the change to the world was that questioning Undead Elvis was about as effective as shaking up a Magic Eight Ball. Sometimes it infuriated her how vague he could be, even though he was giving her the best answer he had.
To stop thinking about gas and mileage, she said, "So if I'm Mother Mary, does that make you Joseph?"
Undead Elvis shrugged. "I don't know, Li'l lady."
"Because we're not, you know, married. I never understood that part of the story, anyway. Why get married to someone and then not consummate it?"
"Maybe Joseph was undead, like me."
Hope brayed unexpected laughter. Undead Elvis's deadpan delivery had caught her like the best standup comics. She wiped tears of amusement away. "If you weren't already dead, you might go to hell for saying something so sacrilegious."
Undead Elvis looked down at his boots. "I shouldn't have joked about it. My momma raised me better than that."
Hope smiled. "It's all right. If anybody's going to hell here, it's me."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because it's true. I haven't lived a very good life. I'm a stripper. That's maybe one step up from being a whore. I've done things with men, things I'm not proud of. Things a girl sometimes has to do to survive in this world. Or at least, as it used to be."
"But you never slept with any of them."
"No."
"Why not?"
Hope didn't answer right away. She let the hot desert air lick the moisture from her skin and whip her hair through the open window as The Way ate up the road. "I don't know, exactly," she said at last. "It's like I was saving myself for someone important. Maybe I was saving myself for this and just didn't know it. It's not like I never had any opportunities to put out. Strippers get propositioned all the time. And there were other men when I wasn't working, and boys before them. I just never felt like going all the way with any of them." She sighed. "I came close a few times, though. And I've sucked more cocks than I care to think about."
Undead Elvis shifted in his seat and she wondered if she'd made him uncomfortable. On the heels of that thought, she wondered how an undead person could even be uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. You're