“Let’s just deal, people,” I said. “Only for a little while. We’re going to stop as soon as we find a place to sleep.”
“‘The dog,’” Total muttered, still mad.
“Shh,” I told him.
“Are you saying you’re not a dog?” the Gasman asked. He was tired. We were all tired and hungry and cranky.
“Okay, you two,” I said sternly. “Enough! Everyone quiet, okay? We’re looking for a place to sleep. Just chill.”
Fang glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Does anyone want to sing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall’?”
We all screamed no at the same time.
118
That night we hid the car in some overgrown brush on an abandoned farm and slept in the trees, swaying gently in the pleasant breeze. We weren’t attacked or ratted on, so it was an up night for us.
In the morning we got back into our little car—emphasis on the little.
“There aren’t enough seat belts,” Gazzy complained from the backseat. The four of them looked like sardines back there.
“And God knows we live our lives totally paranoid about safety measures,” I said, looking at a map.
“I’m just saying,” said Gazzy. “Yow! Fang!”
Even Fang had winced at that last gear-grinding. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smirk and gave Fang a wide-eyed innocent look. Yes, I swallowed down all the snide comments I could make about his driving, unlike Fang, who had gone ahead and made snide comments when I drove. That’s because I’m a better person, frankly. I am a freaking princess when it comes to other people’s feelings.
“Yo, dogbreath,” I said to Total. “Get your paws off the Everglades.”
Total moved slightly so I could see the map, Fang ground the gears again, and we lurched on toward our destination: Itex headquarters.
Assuming Angel’s intel was good, it was time for us to learn just what the heck I was supposed to do to stop this company from destroying the world. I was tired of dodging it. I was tired of asking about it. I was ready to know.
119
Here’s something that might not occur to you: If a state trooper sees a weird, patchwork Toyota Echo hurtling down I-95, and it looks like half of a small country is immigrating to the States in this one little car, you might get stopped.
Just FYI.
In general, the six of us preferred to avoid law enforcement agents of any kind. Especially since we never knew whether they were the real thing or if they would suddenly turn into Erasers, as just another challenge in this twisted lab test of a life we led.
“Should we bail?” Fang asked, looking at the flashing lights in the rearview mirror.
“Probably.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to muster energy for whatever might be coming. I turned back to the others. “We’ll stop, and as soon as it looks freaky, up and away, okay?”
I got solemn nods from everyone.
“I’m with Iggy,” Total said, leaping into the backseat.
Fang clumsily pulled onto the shoulder, kicking up dust and gravel. We shared a glance as a woman in a state trooper uniform got out of her cruiser and walked toward us. We unlocked the car doors and poised for takeoff.
The trooper leaned down into Fang’s window, her broad-brimmed hat shadowing her face.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, sounding unfriendly. “Do you know how fast you were traveling?”
Fang looked at the speedometer, which hadn’t moved since we’d pushed the car out into the darkness last night. “No,” he said truthfully.
“I tagged you at seventy miles an hour,” she said, pulling out a clipboard.