“I didn’t know a van could go up on two wheels like that,” Nudge said. “For so long.”
“I don’t want to barf in a borrowed car,” the Gasman said.
I pressed my lips together and focused on the road. Ingrates. “We need to turn east in about five hundred yards,” I muttered, peering out the van window.
A half mile later, I pulled over and rested my head against the steering wheel. “Where the heck is the road?” I bellowed in frustration. “There’s no freaking road there!”
“You’re going by your own directional senses,” Fang pointed out.
“And there can’t be roads everywhere you feel like there should be a road,” Iggy added reasonably.
I wanted to smack them both.
Sighing, I pulled out onto the turnoff-less road and did a U-ey.
“I’ll just have to take a less efficient route,” I said. I hated the sense of time ticking by, of not knowing whether Angel was still alive. And worse, I hated knowing I was getting closer and closer to the School, where everything bad that had ever happened to us had taken place. It felt like I was driving toward certain death, and it was hard to make myself do that.
“Argh!” After yet another unexpected turn that led us away from where we should have been going, I pulled over again and punched the steering wheel several times. Every one of my muscles was tense from driving and worry. I had a bad headache. Lately, I’d been having a lot of headaches. Gee, I wonder why?
“It’s okay, Max,” the Gasman said anxiously.
“Is she hitting the steering wheel?” Iggy asked.
“Look,” said Fang, pointing to a sign. “There’s a town up ahead. Let’s go there, get something to eat, and find an actual map. ’Cause this wandering thing ain’t workin’.”
Bennett was a small, almost cute town. I sat up tall in the driver’s seat and frowned, trying to look older. There were several places to eat. I turned into a parking lot slowly and then oh-so-carefully edged the van toward the back of the lot, away from everyone else.
I turned off the engine, and Nudge and Gazzy sprang for the door. “We’re alive!” yelled the Gasman.
“Wait!” I told them. “Look, we’re really close to the School. This might feel like the middle of nowhere, but really, Erasers could be anywhere and anyone. You know that. So we have to be careful.”
“We have to eat,” Nudge said, trying not to whine. It was hard on her—she seemed to burn through calories faster than anyone, except maybe the Gasman.
“I know, Nudge,” I said gently. “We’re going to. I’m just saying be really careful. Be on guard, be ready to run, okay? Anybody we see could be an Eraser.”
They nodded. I flipped down the visor so I could check myself in the mirror, and something small and heavy dropped into my lap.
I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. What—?
Gingerly, I looked down. It wasn’t a grenade. It was a key ring. One key was for this van. I looked at it blankly.
“Well, that’ll simplify things,” Fang said.
56
“I want my room to smell just like this.” Iggy inhaled deeply as the scents of flame-broiled burgers and hot french fries wafted around us.
“It would be an improvement,” I agreed, reading the menu board. My stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. I was shaky with tension and adrenaline, and felt like I was going to come apart at the seams.
The fast-food restaurant was crowded and jarringly noisy. All of us felt nervous when we were around regular people. We shuffled into line, trying to be inconspicuous. As far as I could tell, no one here was an Eraser.
But of course Erasers looked pretty normal—until they started morphing and tried to bite your freaking head off.
“I don’t eat meat anymore,” Nudge announced. At my uncomprehending stare, she said, “Not after seeing the hawks go through rabbits and snakes and other birds. It’s just icky.”
Fang stepped up and ordered three double cheeseburgers, a chocolate shake, a soda with caffeine and sugar, three fries, three apple pies.
“Feeding a crowd?” the woman behind the counter asked.