He made a good point. “I get that and it makes sense. But I still say we have to give it a chance. If nothing else, we’ll have some fun and blow off some steam. I’m sure Milly and the Hudson boys will keep the place safe.”
“Most of the mated werewolves are headed out of town for the night.”
Sure. Now Lance pipes up. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. I heard that the nonshifters are leaving, too. They don’t want to be around when we unmated werewolves go nuts.”
“They’re probably doing the safest thing.” Duncan popped a French fry into his mouth but kept on talking. He had to drive home his point. “Don’t you get it, Grant? Everyone’s getting ready for the amber moon. We’ll be fine in town.”
Grant leaned back in his chair. “What’s your decision, Lance?”
His cousin may straddle the fence a lot, but in the end he always came down on one side or the other. “I say we give town a shot.”
Duncan slapped his hand down on the table and let out a whoop of triumph. Eyes, some with flecks of amber in them, darted their way. “Now you’re talking.”
* * * *
“Damn it. Don’t you die on me.”
Christy Smith slapped her hand against the steering wheel of her 2000 convertible Volkswagen Beetle. The engine hiccupped again but kept on going.
“Come on, Sally, don’t give up the ghost yet.” There hadn’t been a single car on the two-lane road she’d taken off the highway. Worse, there wasn’t any sign of a gas station.
The car lurched forward, then gave yet another rattle. She imagined that it kept going more from her force of will than from anything mechanical. Her heart leapt at the sight of the small road sign.
“See, Sally? It says Forever is up ahead. I don’t know what it’s like, but at least it’s somewhere. Please, just hang on for another few miles. Once we’re there, I’ll give you a big drink of gas and let you rest up. I swear I will.”
It was ridiculous talking to a car, but she loved her silver-blue Beetle with whitewall tires. But with over two hundred and thirty thousand miles on the Bug, she knew the inevitable was close at hand. She’d nursed it for the last year, eking out every mile it would give. The furry white ball of dice hanging from the rearview mirror did a dance as the car continued to jerk its way forward.
She squinted into the setting sun. “I see it. Forever’s just ahead, Sally. Keep on going, girl.”
The town was quaint and charming with shops lining the main road. Pickups dominated the parking spaces, making her Beetle stick out, while trees dotted the sidewalks. The local pharmacy boasted that it was open “twenty-four-seven, 365 nights a year,” while other shops had pretty baskets of flowers hanging from their awnings. An older lady paused in her hunched-over walk to watch her drive by, then lifted a hand in a friendly greeting.
“See, Sally? They’re just like the folks back in Greensburg. Friendly even to strangers.”
She’d left her hometown of Greensburg, Indiana, three months earlier. After having spent six years working at an insurance company—and going crazy from the boredom of the day-in-and-day-out, monotonous routine of her desk job—she’d decided that if she was ever going to go on the road trip she’d always dreamed of taking, that was the time. She’d saved as much money as she could and her lease was up. Both were sure signs that she was making the right decision.
After driving to Washington D.C., then taking the southern states one at a time, she’d started heading west. Sometimes she’d stay one night in a place, then in others she’d stay for a week or two, taking a temporary job whenever she could find it. It didn’t matter. She was free and playing it by ear. From the start, planning hadn’t been a major part of her decision to undertake the trip. If it had, she might’ve thought better of doing it in a car that was sure to stop running at any time.
Not that she could’ve left Sally at home, or God forbid, sold her. Christy admired loyalty and devotion. Even if that loyalty and devotion were to an inanimate thing like a car.
“Oh, look, Sally. It’s a diner just like The Greasy Spoon back home.”
Her stomach growled, putting its bid in on stopping to get dinner. Christy pulled into the parking spot just as Sally gave one last forward jerk, sputtered, and died.
“Nooo, Sally. Say it ain’t so.” Christy turned off the ignition and patted the dashboard. “Come on, baby, please start.” Yet when she turned the key, nothing happened.
She laid her head against the steering wheel. It was over. She could feel it in her bones. Nothing was going to bring her beloved car back.