Hope and Undead Elvis - By Ian Thomas Healy Page 0,26

one hand behind her back and wrapped around the pistol grip. "Hi. Yeah, nothing we can't handle, though."

"Do you need some help? I'm sure I could assist you."

"That's okay, mister. I think we got it under control."

The man stripped off his riding gloves with slow, deliberate moves. The sound of Velcro tabs reminded Hope of the way the world used to be. "I'm not fixin' to hurt you. Why don't you take your hand off the roscoe, young lady?"

Hope blinked. She didn't think she'd been that obvious about it. Nevertheless… "I don't think so."

The man sighed, the weight of the world in that one slow exhalation. Then he smiled and extended his hand. "Harris is the name. Asher Harris."

"Hope."

"Elvis," said Undead Elvis.

"Elvis, huh? I heard you were dead."

Undead Elvis shrugged. "Uh-huh."

"Where are you headed?" asked Hope.

"That way."

"The bridge is out."

"I can see that. But y'all made it across."

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't pass me on the road, and your car's facin' the wrong way. Mayhap you were turning about, but methinks you'd have to be going hella fast to bury yourself that far in."

The mishmash of accents and colloquialisms was making Hope's head spin. "Where are you from, Mr. Harris?"

"Call me Ash, and I'm from pretty much everywhere."

"A real man of the world?" Despite his reassurances, Hope kept her hand tight around the stock of the pistol.

"Yah, totally." He leaned down and reached for something low on the side of his bike.

Hope's pistol came around and she found herself holding it on him with so much pressure against the trigger that she couldn't believe the gun didn't fire. "Easy," she said, voice quavering.

"It's just a bottle of water," said Ash. "Been a thirsty ride. You mind?" He held up a dirty plastic bottle with a peeling blue label.

Hope lowered the gun but didn't tuck it back into her waistband. Ash unscrewed the plastic cap and took a couple swallows. Hope licked her lips with a tongue that had turned dry at the mere mention of water. Ash sipped again and raised an eyebrow at Hope. "Thirsty?"

"Y-yes," she said.

"I've got another full bottle in my pack. You're welcome to it if you want."

Hope would have screamed "yes," had she not become suspicious after Gabe's death. She raised the gun once more. "Take it out. Slowly. No funny stuff."

Ash smiled. "I ain't fixin' to cause trouble. I'm just a gentleman who intends verily to offer aid to a fellow traveler." He put down the bike's kickstand and swung his leg over the fuel tank.

A black case the size of Hope's thigh clattered to the pavement, a dark shadow against the inky ribbon of the pavement. "What's that?"

"It's a ukulele."

"What is that, some kind of gun or something?"

Ash laughed. "Hardly."

"It's like a tiny guitar, Li'l lady," said Undead Elvis. "I played one in Blue Hawaii. Lovely little instrument."

Hope felt her ears grow hot. "How about that water?"

Ash pulled a bottle from a side pocket of his pack. "I realize you've got me at quite a disadvantage here, me unarmed and you wavin' that gat around, but it'd do my heart right well if you had any food you could share."

"Just apples," said Hope.

"I love apples." Even in the gathering dawn, Hope saw Ash's eyes grow a little cloudy. "Haven't had one since I don't know when."

"Elvis, get him an apple, and get me that water."

Undead Elvis shrugged and took an apple from the cab of The Way. He handed it to Ash. His fingers brushed the ukulele case as he picked up the water bottle.

"If you want to play it, go ahead," said Ash.

Undead Elvis opened the clasp on the case and lifted out a battered miniature guitar.

"Elvis, I'm thirsty!" Hope felt like they were taking her and her weapon for granted.

"Put up the gun, Li'l lady. There's no man alive with a ukulele who'd harm a soul." Undead Elvis handed Hope the water bottle. She debated with herself before tucking the gun away and pouring some of the water down her parched throat. She didn't care that it was warm, only that it was wet.

The sky grew lighter, and she could make out more details on Ash's face. He looked much older than his demeanor suggested. His wrinkles were more like crags and his careworn eyes seemed like they'd seen everything at least once. His expression was guarded and solemn as he ate the apple. "Where did you find apples?"

"There was a garden or oasis or something back that way. I