After the End(23)

“What’s in the suitcase behind the seat?” I ask.

“Um . . . clothes,” Miles says, fidgeting. “Yeah, I forgot about that. But I could take you to your hotel if you need to get . . . supplies.” He rearranges his face into a helpful smile and then lifts his eyebrows in a way that I think is meant to charm me.

Nome would be eating this up, I think. She had actually gone through the EB and ranked the photos of every scientist, politician—anything male—from one to ten, based on “charisma,” as she called it. I can never think of John F. Kennedy without the number 7.5 popping into my head.

But I feel only amusement watching Miles. I have a goal, and he is the one who will help me. My interest ends there. “I don’t need to go back to the guesthouse,” I say. “I’ve been here seven days and paid up front for the week. Plus, I have everything I need in my pack. Let’s go.”

“So you have money?”

“Some.”

“Well, then, why didn’t you rent a car and drive yourself?” he asks curiously.

“I don’t know how to drive.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You could take a bus.”

“You’re supposed to take me. And California’s due south. I’m going southeast.”

Miles clenches his jaw in frustration. He digs his fingers into his temples and squeezes his eyes shut. And then, opening them again, he glares at me. Doesn’t like to take orders, I think, noting that tidbit on my checklist, and then add, Is used to getting what he wants.

“Why in the world would you trust me to take you anywhere?” he asks. “I could be dangerous. I could be psycho. You don’t know me from Adam.”

I turn to him. “Actually, I don’t trust you. Frankie told me not to, but he also said I had to be honest with you.”

“Who the hell is Frankie?” A note of hysteria creeps into Miles’s voice.

“Frankie is the guy who sits and drinks beer on the corner of Pike and Pine. People call him Crazy Frankie.”

“You take advice from an insane alcoholic?” Miles’s face is dead serious now.

Be completely honest, I hear the voice in my head. I exhale and brace myself. “He was my oracle,” I respond. “And he told me to go with you. Therefore, whether or not you are dangerous or psycho—which I don’t think you are—”

“Thanks,” Miles interjects drily.

“—you are driving me.”

“How does this Crazy Frankie even know who I am?”

“He doesn’t,” I respond. “He told me to go with the person whose name will take me far.”

Miles stares at me, all semblance of coolness gone. He looks scared.

“You are psychotic,” Miles says, eyes wide. Tearing his gaze from mine, he sits for an entire minute staring straight ahead at the parking lot. He needs you as much as you need him, Frankie had said. I wait.

Finally, shaking his head in despair, Miles turns the key in the ignition. “Okay. I’ll take you at least part of the way on your crazy road trip.” He reaches for something on the dashboard. “But first I have to make a call.”

I get to the contraption first. “Is this your cellular phone?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says.

Clasping it in my hand, I close my eyes and contact the Yara. I’ve been waiting for a week for this to happen. I’m ready. A little spark flies out the side of the phone, and its screen goes dead.

“What the—” Miles yells.

“Frankie also told me not to let you use your phone,” I reply. “Now let’s go.”



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20


MILES




MY BRAIN HURTS. I AM SO FAR OUT OF MY COMFORT zone that I might as well be in the Amazon, swimming with piranhas. This girl somehow just broke my phone and now she’s telling me to drive her to Mount Rainier. And I’m actually arguing with her over directions, like we’re some geriatric married couple.

“You pointed south a minute ago. The mountain is due east,” I say, stopping the car at the edge of the parking lot. “You have no idea where you’re going, do you?”

She wraps her arms around her chest and says defiantly, “Actually, I pointed southeast. Our destination is in that direction.”

“And you know that because Crazy Frankie told you,” I state incredulously.

“I don’t think he’s actually crazy,” she says.

Oh my God, I’m driving a psychopath. “So if the wino told you to go southeast, why are we heading due east?”