Hope and Undead Elvis - By Ian Thomas Healy Page 0,37

too close to the cannibals below. She planned to get far ahead of these Righteous Flame monsters in the forest and then find a place to hole up and sleep.

Her growling stomach reminded her they had no more food. It saddened her to think she was already neglecting her unborn baby. There would be food in the forest; forests always had food, didn't they? Animals, berries, edible roots. Hope didn't know how to tell which roots were edible, but she was hungry enough to try all of them.

The ash-choked stream was only a few yards from the road. It had given Hope an idea how to disguise the white paint of The Way, dingy and flaking though it was. "Come on, Elvis. Time to get dirty. Well, dirtier."

The two of them worked as the Moon climbed higher in the sky, shining like a jaundiced eye through the veil of smoke. They spread ash and mud on The Way's hood, doors, and fenders. The white paint disappeared under a veneer of gray and black. Hope stepped back to admire their handiwork. "It's not pretty, but it'll definitely be harder to see. Guess it's good there's all this ash or else we couldn't do this."

"Finding good even amid the tragedy, Li'l lady?"

"I guess I am. Hey, how come I'm filthy and you're not even the slightest bit dirty?" Undead Elvis's jumpsuit still sparkled and no smudges marred his sunglasses.

"Because I'm The King, baby. Uh-huh."

Hope laughed, because it was so ludicrous she couldn't help but accept it as truth. "All right, Your Majesty. Get in the car."

Undead Elvis did so. "What's your plan?"

"Drive fast, don't hit anything, and don't stop for a long time."

"Sounds good to me."

Hope stared at the distant fire truck and tanker with the people clustered around them like maggots on hunks of rotting meat. She said, "I was never a very good driver. Inattentive. I was always getting pulled over for speeding. I couldn't ever park without hitting the cars around me. I left my last car in gear and got out and it rolled into a canyon. That's why I was walking when I met you in that bar. God, it seems like it was years ago. How long has it been really? A couple of days? A week? More?"

"I don't know, Li'l lady."

"It feels like forever. And we've barely begun this journey. I wonder how long it'll take."

"Until we reach the end," said Undead Elvis.

"I'm glad you're traveling with me."

"I'm glad to go along for the ride."

Hope put The Way into gear and let out the clutch. "Yeah, we'll see about that. Hang on."

She stabbed The Way through gear after gear until she ran out. The speedometer needle climbed past a hundred and stopped a few seconds later at 120, not because they topped out at that speed, but because the speedometer didn't go any higher. The engine howled as it tried to breathe enough of the smoky air. Heat poured from all the vents as it sought any escape from the engine compartment. Ash began to blow off the body panels, making Hope feel like she was driving through a thick fog bank. Nevertheless, she resisted the urge to turn on the headlights. She could see the great wall of fire with the narrow gap in it. That gap was the road, and only two trucks and several dozen people lay between her and that goal.

Members of the Righteous Flame stirred as The Way's roar became audible to them over the noise of the fire. Hope imagined they looked up the road to see a ghostly vision bearing down upon them through smoke and ash, like some kind of avenging beast hell-bent upon punishing them for their grisly rituals and slaughtering their own for meat.

The preacher bared his teeth and screamed pure hatred at them as they flashed past the parked trucks. Even in the near darkness and backlit by flames, Hope saw veins popped out against his forehead and the tendons of his throat stood sharp as razors. For a fraction of a second, his gaze met Hope's and she knew he wouldn't give up until he made her pay. His fingers wrenched into claws and his shriek of "Burn you!" rose even above the throbbing exhaust.

A body bounced off the front fender and a squeak of terror escaped from between Hope's clenched teeth as a stubbled face with broken teeth and rheumy eyes flashed past her window, carved into a rictus of fear and