Hope and Undead Elvis - By Ian Thomas Healy Page 0,22

wheel, she saw it: her magic number, sandwiched between 85 and 125 in white numbers on the black face of the speedometer. It looked exactly like her dream. One hundred and five miles per hour.

Frightening realization dawned, and Hope's breath caught as she looked up through the windshield. Where she'd stopped the car, she was looking right across the chasm at the far end of the bridge. Was this her test? Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to cramp and she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat.

"E-Elvis?"

"Yes, Li'l lady?" He bent down to look in the window, his blue countenance as dry as the surrounding landscape.

"I think… I think maybe we're supposed to j-jump across it."

Undead Elvis looked across the gap and whistled. "That's a long ways. Uh-huh."

"I just think that it's the direction we need to go, so we might as well try it."

"I don't think try is the right word there. Either we make it, or we don't. If we don't make it—"

"If we don't make it, then the world is fucked anyway, right?" Hope made herself let go of the wheel. Her knuckles throbbed in pace to her heart. "I don't see any other alternative. I don't want to just stay here, waiting to starve or be killed by those bird man things."

"You ever jump a car before?"

"N-no."

"Me either. I wonder how fast you'd need to go to clear that distance."

"A hundred and five."

"Are you sure?"

Hope pressed her hands together and touched her fingertips to her lips, as if in prayer. She didn't look away from the bridge. She couldn't. "Yes," she whispered. "I have to be."

"Well all right." Undead Elvis went through the bed of The Way, tying down and bracing everything he could. He took what fruit remained and secreted it in the cab, either in the glove compartment, door panels, or beneath the seat. Soon, he decided he'd done all he could to prepare the car for a rough landing.

Hope made an awkward five-point turn to face the car back the direction they'd come. She didn't know how much time The Way would need to get up to speed, but wanted as much cushion as she could give it. After a couple of minutes, she slowed and turned around again. Both she and Undead Elvis stepped out to look up the road toward the bridge.

"You think that's enough room?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Though if you change your mind, you ain't gonna have enough time to stop and try again."

"I know." Hope shivered despite the hot sun overhead. She turned to him. "Hold me."

He wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face against the dazzling white of his jumpsuit. She wished he smelled like sweat, or dirt, or anything, but she couldn't detect any scents not her own. It was like being held by a ghost.

Ghost or not, his arms were strong and Hope felt his strength flow into her as gentle as a warm morning breeze. He was tall, and she had to stand on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"What was that for, Li'l lady?"

"For everything. Thank you. I couldn't have made it this far without you, Elvis."

"My pleasure."

"What was that song about fools rushing in?"

"Wise men say only fools rush in," he sang.

"I guess that makes us a couple of fools." She looked up the road toward the bridge. She wished it were much further away. She wished it was whole. She wished the world was unbroken. "Let's go, before I talk myself out of this."

She trailed her fingertips along the hood of The Way as she returned to her seat, caressing it in the hope that it wouldn't let her down. She buckled her seat belt. Undead Elvis handed her a chunk of wood that looked like it might have come from a broom handle.

"What's this?"

"Pop that sucker in your mouth and bite down on it. You don't wanna accidentally bite off your own tongue."

"Well, what about your tongue?"

Undead Elvis only smiled.

Hope shrugged and slipped the lump lengthwise between her lips and clamped down on it. It tasted dusty, with overtones of a sharp petroleum scent. She didn't care; one way or another, she'd only have to suffer it for a minute. She looked at Undead Elvis and nodded. He nodded back at her.

She started hard. The tires shrieked and left twin black streaks of smoking rubber down the center of the pavement. The Way blasted forward as Hope hammered it through the gear changes, keeping one