Going Bovine

Page 63

Gonzo’s left eye twitches. His mouth goes slack. And then he comes running at me full speed, swinging hard. “Just shut up, man, shut the hell up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He lands a solid punch to my stomach, and that sucker hurts. I’m doubled over, hoping my breath will have a return engagement with my lungs.
“Say you’re sorry, pendejo!”
“Sorry,” I squeak out.
He backs off, but he’s still way pissed. “My mom has given up a lot to raise me. She was supposed to be a singer.”
“Okay. I believe you.” When I’m able to stand, I hand him his backpack. He stuffs his arms angrily through the straps. “Did you ask her to do that?”
“Ask her to do what?” he says, giving a little hop to secure his pack.
“Give up her life for you.”
He looks confused for a second. “That’s not the point. Look, just drop it, dude.”
“It’s dropped.”
We start walking. In the field, I see the old lady, Mrs. Morae, from the hospital. She’s sitting in a chair, holding on to her IV pole, like she’s at a bus stop, waiting. Her face is grave. “Watch out,” she warns.
“I will,” I say.
She smiles at me. “In a house by the sea with the air scented of lilies.”
“Dude, who are you talking to?” Gonzo’s face is right in mine. I slide my eyes to the right, but the old lady is gone.
The pins-and-needles sensation burns in my legs. “No one,” I say. “Just keep your eyes peeled for a car or a bus. Something other than gravel and dust.”
We amble down the dirt road till we hit an old paved road that at least has a route sign. There’s nothing coming in either direction yet.
Gonzo’s still riled up. “I had appendicitis when I was eight, and she had to leave an audition to rush me to the ER. Okay?”
“I’m sure she’s a good mom.”
“She’s great. A great mom. When we get to a town, I’m out of here. I’m going back, dude. If the world ends, it ends. You’re on your own.”
“Whatever. Just keeping looking, all right?” I walk left and Gonzo goes right.
I feel like I’ve been swallowing stones. My muscles ache and my legs are heavy. The air is thick with the smells of cow dung, tractor exhaust, road dust, flowers, and something else. My eyes sting and my throat’s irritated. Smoke. Could be crops burning. Small brush fire, maybe. So why is the hair on the back of my neck creeping to attention?
I whirl around, searching for the source. In the distance, Gonzo’s silhouette flickers around the edges, distorted by the squiggles of heat rising from the road. I start to call out, but my feet are summer-sidewalk hot. I hop back just as small puncture holes pop up along the ground. There’s a hiss from below, and before I can shout a warning, the asphalt splits open with the force of a geyser. Steam, smoke, and flames shoot into the sky. The force of it knocks me back a few feet. I land hard, feeling the sting as my shirt is torn and my back is bloodied by gravel. One by one, the fire giants crawl out of the broken road and push themselves up. In the time it takes me to gasp, they zoom up to about eight feet and fan out into positions like loyal soldiers. The way ahead is consumed by an orange wall of heat.
“Gonzo!” I yell, but I can’t see him. It’s too bright.
The fire giants stare down at me with their baleful eyes, and I feel myself sinking. I don’t even know how to fight these guys. There’s a stick on the road. I grab it and start swinging, Star Fighter style. The fire gods seem to find it amusing. They throw their heads back in a laughing howl that makes me shiver. One of them darts his head forward and flicks a serpentlike tongue around the stick. A red glow shoots up the wood. With a hiss, I drop it fast and it disintegrates.
Several slink forward on all fours and sniff me. One growls. They’re through f**king around. Their breath heats my skin. Suddenly, they pull up short. A van’s cruising down the road. The sun’s reflecting off the windshield. I have to put my hand to my eyes to block the glare.
“Hey!” I shout, waving my arms. “Over here! Help!”
I try to crawl toward it, but a fire giant blows me back. My body screams in pain as I tumble along the pavement. I try to get up but I can’t.
“Gonzo!” I croak.
The fire god pries open my mouth and covers it with his. He breathes out, filling my lungs with choking smoke. My body shakes. Somebody’s pushing against my chest in a hard rhythm.
“Page Dr. Xavier!” Glory shouts. I’m on a gurney, watching the fluorescent ceiling lights strobe over me fast. Mom’s running alongside, trying to keep one hand on the metal rail. She looks worried. I’m pushed through wide doors. More lights. Hard on my eyes. God, my body hurts so bad. Like I’m being burned with lit matches.