"Yeah. That's like, meeting Santa or something."
Amy frowned. "What do you mean? How is it like meeting Santa? Santa lives at the North Pole."
Mild panic wrote itself across Javier's features. He swallowed. "Uh… You're right! It's not like meeting him at all! Because Santa's totally real, and–" He shot a quick glance in her direction. By now, she was having a hard time restraining her giggles. "And you're totally fucking with me right now, aren't you?"
Amy laughed through her nose. Javier gave her the finger. She kept laughing. He kept driving. Every so often, he would look over at her and shake his head, and nudge the speed up. Soon Junior was asleep. Amy followed not long after, lulled by the squeak of wipers over the empty static Javier insisted on listening to.
She is standing over them, gun in hand. They kneel, hooded and placid as tame falcons. One by one, she pulls the hoods off. They blink slowly before focusing on the thing in the centre of the room. Now the chains rattle as they try to scramble backward. It's hard, with their hands up above their heads. The thing moans. It has long since given up. "I want you to know," she says, lifting a tire iron, "that this hurts me worse than you."
She brings down the iron. The chains sing, now. The thing is crumpling, bursting, its insides leaking and pooling. She's glad she positioned it over the drain in the floor. The women shriek. They plead. They beg. They try to hide and can't.
"G-G-Granny…"
Madness kindles in their eyes. Failures. All of them. She lifts the gun. The puke rounds smell a little dry, but still good.
The air fills with the hiss of melting flesh–
"Fuck!"
Amy started awake. The car swerved wildly. Javier let the wheel slip through his hands and struggled to avoid a group of women who had positioned themselves in the middle of the dark and winding road. Headlights illuminated their stiff and unyielding bodies: Amy recognized her aunts.
"You've got a real fucked-up family," Javier said. Baring his teeth, he floored the gas pedal and plowed directly into one of the aunts. She rolled calmly across the hood. Her lips kissed across the wet windshield.
Inside Amy, something hardened. "More," she said. "Javier, run them all over–"
Something landed on the roof. A white fist slammed down into the windshield from above. Amy shrieked. On her lap, Junior woke. He twisted against her. Amy covered his eyes. Now the glass splintered, impact fractures branching down toward the straining wipers.
Javier ran another one down. This aunt clung on and waved this time before sliding off. Another slammed herself up against Amy's door; it popped open and her aunt's arm reached inside. Screaming, Amy held tight to Junior and reached for the door. She tried forcing her aunt's hand away. Her aunt merely laughed and briefly tangled their fingers, like they were girlfriends holding hands on the way to a carnival ride. Snarling, Amy slammed the door, and watched her aunt's look of surprise through the window when her arm ripped free of her body.
Good work. Awareness shivered down her spine. She knew that voice. She recognized it, now. Inside her head there was something like old, dry laughter.
"Pull over," Amy said, staring at the arm.
"Are you crazy? They're–"
"They're after me, not you." Amy looked down at Junior. He was silent, but clearly agitated, eyes peering everywhere and tiny fists clutched close to his little body. The more she watched him, the calmer she felt. It stole over her, heavy and cold and quick. "They won't stop chasing me. They want revenge. And you and your baby shouldn't be punished for something that I did." She tried to smile. "You were going to leave me behind anyway, right? When I contacted my parents?"
Javier stopped the car. He set his teeth. In the glow of its headlights, Amy saw her aunts begin walking forward. They looked happy. Confident. Smug. "They won't just let me go," he said.
"They walked right past you before, on the truck." She unbuckled her seatbelt and tried handing Javier his child; he blinked at the baby like she was offering him a bomb. He's a smart boy. Appeal to his logic. "You'll get a lot further with only one parasite, instead of two."
Javier snorted. He shook his head. "Have it your way. Nice knowing you." He offered her his hand. Dutifully, Amy shook it; this time his hand was perfectly steady and not at all warm.
"It was nice meeting you, too," she said. "You're the only vN friend I've ever had."
Javier said nothing. He was staring at the fussing bundle of blanket and limbs in his lap, and refused to even look her way. Taking this as her cue to leave, Amy scooted out of the car and shut the door. It screeched away immediately. The aunt on its roof jumped clear and landed in the road.