Chapter 11
IT WENT FASTER with both of them taking turns behind the wheel.
By noon the next day, they'd passed through Oklahoma and were heading across the Texas panhandle.
Remus stared out the windshield in awe.
He had never seen anything to compare with the absolute flatness here — the sweeping, empty expanses of burnt-looking grass, stretching out for miles to the unbroken line of the horizon.
The sky soared above them, looking about ten times larger than usual, and grain elevators peppered the landscape.
Every dusty little town seemed to have one, though often there wasn’t a single person in sight.
As Remus drove, he gazed at an abandoned elevator beside a boarded-up house, wondering if the owner had finally become so fed up with all the flatness that he’d just left.
By then they were both getting hungry, so Remus pulled into a gas station with a mini-mart.
“Would you drive for a while now?” He asked, tucking his hair up in the cap.
“Yeah, sure,” said Sirius. “Are you going in?”
“Just to use the restroom.”
“What kind of sandwich do you want — ham and cheese, right? And water to drink?”
“Yeah, thanks. And you’ll be getting your coffee,” Remus teased. “You’re a complete caffeine addict, you know. You’d probably go into withdrawal without it.”
“Hey, I’ve got to have at least one vice,” Sirius said with a grin. He started off across the pavement, his gait loose and relaxed.
Smiling, Remus got out of the car and went around to the side of the gas station, where the restrooms were.
When he'd finished, he splashed his face with cold water and went back out into the blinding heat.
Sirius hadn’t returned to the car yet, and as Remus headed toward it, he saw a pay phone to the side of the parking lot.
His steps dwindled to a stop as he stared at it.
They couldn’t track a pay phone, could they?
Remus had some change in his bag; he could call Mary and find out whether his Mom was OK.
The temptation was almost unbearable.
Remus had actually started for the phone when he hesitated, wondering if they might have tapped Mary's cell phone.
Could you do that?
No, he thought.
He can’t; it’s too risky.
But almost doing it and then not was worse than never having spotted the pay phone at all.
Ridiculously, he felt tears clutch at his throat.
Angry with himself, he pulled off his sunglasses, swiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.
“Hey. You OK?” said Sirius.
He was just coming across the parking lot, carrying their food.
He frowned, his eyes on Remus's. “What’s wrong?”
Remus shook his head. “It’s stupid. I was just really tempted to call Mary and see how Mom is. I didn’t,” he added hastily. “But I just . . . really wanted to.”
Sirius looked like he understood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope she’s OK.”
Remus managed a smile. “Thanks. Me too.”
He took his sandwich from Sirius, and they walked back to the Mustang.
Remus could feel parts of his hair threatening to slip out from the baseball cap, and before he got in, he put his sandwich on the roof so that he could redo the knot.
He tossed his cap onto the roof, too, and started smoothing his hair with his hands.
He glanced up as a gleaming silver pickup truck swung in to the space next to them.
There was a couple sitting in the cab.
The man had a bushy brown mustache; the woman, frosted blond hair that was stiff with hair spray.
As Remus began twisting his hair up again, the woman looked over and their eyes met.
Time seemed to slow down.
Her face slackened in shock.
Remus saw her mouth fall open, and then it was moving, forming words: It’s him.
Panic burst through Remus.
Oh, my God, he didn’t have his sunglasses on; he'd hooked them into the front of his T-shirt as they were walking back to the car.
Remus leaped into the Mustang and slammed the door.
“We’ve got to go,” he said, his words falling over themselves. “That woman saw me.”
Shoving his sunglasses back on, he saw her talking urgently to the man, pointing at Remus.
He was leaning over her, squinting at the Mustang.
Sirius didn’t ask questions; he backed them out in a rush and floored it, squealing out of the gas station.
Remus twisted around in his seat and saw his sandwich and cap bouncing over the concrete; the man had gotten out of the truck, staring after them.
There was a Church of Angels sticker on the pickup’s bumper.
And a rifle hanging in the cab.
“How could I have been so stupid?” Remus whispered.
He was shaking, his fingers cold.
The man had to have noticed the New York plates on the Mustang; he’d know it was us.
The last thing Remus saw before the gas station disappeared from view was him climbing back into his truck.
Remus's pulse thudded through his veins. Were they coming after them?
A turnoff appeared; Sirius took it, hurtling them onto a county highway.
Remus watched out the back window.
No sign of the truck.
“Maybe we’ve lost them,” Remus said tentatively.
“Maybe,” said Sirius, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Except that they probably know every highway and back road around here. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that we’d leave the interstate.”
His hands clenched; he couldn’t stop trembling. “I’m so, so sorry,” Remus said. “I was so stupid —”
Sirius shook his head briefly. “Stop it — it’s not your fault the Church of Angels is full of whack jobs.”
Remus huddled in his seat.
The highway took them through a small, dusty town called Jasper.
Miles passed, and then there was another small town called Fonda.
Nobody seemed to notice them, and Remus started to hope that they'd really lost them.
But then, a mile or so after they left Fonda, Sirius looked in the rearview mirror again, his gaze lingering.
“I think we’ve got company,” he said.
“Is it them?” Remus's throat tightened as he whipped around.
Sure enough, there was a silver pickup truck cruising along behind them.
Please, please let it be a different one, he prayed.
But then it got closer and Remus saw that there were two people sitting in the front: a man and a woman.
And the woman had blond hair.
Sirius floored the accelerator and the Mustang shot ahead, its engine roaring.
It was miles between towns out here; they were in the middle of nowhere, with only flat, scorched land and endless skies.
The highway was a run-down road, almost empty of traffic.
Behind them, the silver pickup accelerated, too, eating up the distance between them.
Fear pummeled Remus.
“Oh, God, Sirius, keep going, whatever you do.”
“Yeah, don’t worry — that was sort of my plan,” he muttered.
Staring behind them, Remus watched in sick horror as the pickup drew closer, gaining on them with almost comical speed.
Then they were right on their tail, almost bumper to bumper.
His eyes met the woman’s.
She was gripping a pendant around her neck, glaring right at him.
The man was at the steering wheel, his expression fixed, intent, like a hunter with a ten-point buck in his sights.
Suddenly the pickup rammed them from behind.
The Mustang jolted forward with a metallic crunching noise.
Swearing, Sirius spun the wheel, careering over the yellow line.
Its engine roaring, the pickup pulled up beside them on the passenger’s side.
The woman had taken the wheel; the man was holding the rifle, pointing it right at Remus.
Sirius saw it in the same instant.
“Get down!” he shouted, swerving.
He shoved Remus toward the floor just as gunfire sounded and his window burst into thousands of fragments of glass.
Remus screamed, throwing his arms over his head.
He could feel the pattering of glass all around him— in his hair, on the back of his T-shirt.
“Stay down,” ordered Sirius's voice.
Shaking, Remus peered up from under his arms and saw Sirius take his gun from the waistband of his jeans, flicking the safety off.
But before he could fire back, Remus heard tires squealing and saw from his gaze that the pickup had pulled in front of them.
There was the popping sound of gunfire again.
“Jesus!” He ducked low in his seat as the windshield exploded.
Safety glass flew all around them; a sudden rush of wind howled past.
The Mustang veered wildly, but somehow Sirius managed to keep control.
The sound of rifle fire became more distant, and finally stopped altogether.
Sirius pulled onto the shoulder, did a screeching three-point turn, and headed back in the direction they'd just come from, wind whistling through the car.
Remus kept his head down, not daring to move.
A few minutes later, he felt the car turn.
There was a rough bumping, and then they jolted to a stop.
In a daze, Remus sat up, glass falling from his back and shoulders with little clinking noises.
Sirius had pulled off the highway; they were on a dirt road in the middle of a field.
There was a cut on his cheek where a piece of glass must have struck him — a thin trickle of blood, like a red teardrop, tracing down his face.
“Are you OK?” he asked urgently, gripping Remus's arms.
“Remus, are you hurt?” His eyes were wide, almost frightened.
Numbly, he wondered why.
Sirius faced danger all the time; it didn’t seem like him to get scared by it.
Still trembling, Remus nodded. “I’m — I’m fine.”
Reaching out, he started to touch Sirius's cheek, then swallowed and pulled his hand away. “Your . . . face is bleeding.”
Sirius's shoulders relaxed; he let out a breath.
Brushing at his face with the flat of his hand, he glanced down at the blood and swiped at his cheek with a paper napkin.
"Yeah, it’s fine. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before they come back.”
He started the car again with a lurch.
Rumbling over the dirt road, they came to a paved T junction.
Sirius turned right, and the Mustang gained speed.
He pushed a hand through his hair and shook the glass out, lifting his voice over the wind.
“OK, we’ve got to ditch this car and find another one, like now, before they find us and try again.”
“You mean steal one,” Remus said.
“We don’t have a choice,” Sirius said, shifting gears. “I know it’s not a great thing to do, but —”
“No, it’s all right,” Remus interrupted, his voice unsteady. “In fact — I can probably help.”
Sirius gave him a startled glance.
Amazement spread slowly across his face. “Holy shit. You know how to hot-wire a car.”
“I know the theory,” Remus said, hugging himself. “It’s not all that difficult.”
Sirius gave a short nod. “Good, we’ve just got to find one, then.”
Remus sat rigidly in the glass-strewn seat, frightened of every car that passed.
Thankfully, there were only two, and neither slowed when the driver saw them.
After a couple of miles, they came to a sign that read, PALO DURO PARK ROAD.
“Palo Duro,” muttered Sirius. “Wait a minute. That sounds familiar.” He took the turn.
“What is it?” Remus asked.
“A canyon,” he said. “A really big one. Peter told me about it; he used to come camping here. People go hiking here a lot — we might be able to find something.”
The narrow paved road twisted and turned for a mile or so; there was dry, open grassland to either side.
Then all at once . . . there wasn’t.
“Oh!” Remus breathed in, straightening up as the canyon came into view.
Like a film he'd once seen of the Grand Canyon, it was suddenly just there, the land opening up before them into a soaring, silent expanse of depth and space and red rock.
Sirius's face had hardened as he looked out at it.
Remus's eyebrows drew together; his expression was the same one Remus had seen once before, the time Remus had asked about his brother.
Before Remus could wonder about it too much, they came to a wide curve in the road with the canyon sloping steeply away from them in a scrabble of dust and loose rock.
“There!” Remus said, pointing. “That one’ll do; it’s old enough.”
Parked just off the side of the road was a boat like gray Chevy, its owners presumably hiking on the dirt path that wound downward.
Sirius pulled in behind the Chevy and killed the engine. “OK, be careful. I’ll keep an eye out for cars.”
Remus nodded and got out of the Mustang, shaking bits of glass off him.
Going over to the Chevy, he saw that the windows were open a few inches to let in the air.
“Do we have a coat hanger or something?” Remus asked, peering in the driver’s side.
In the back, he could see a blue-and-white plastic ice chest.
Sirius found some wire in the trunk of the Mustang and brought it to Remus; he made a loop in one end and managed to get the old-fashioned push-button lock on almost the first try.
Remus slid in behind the wheel, terrified that someone was going to drive past.
“OK, I’ve just got to see whether . . . ” He peered under the steering column and unclipped a plastic lid.
“Ha, we’re in luck. The wires we need are right here. Do you have a knife? I need to strip some of this insulation off.”
Digging in his jeans pocket, Sirius handed him a metal pocketknife with YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK on its handle.
Remus pulled open the blade and trimmed off about an inch of insulation on two of the wires, then twisted their exposed ends together.
Sirius was keeping an eye on the road, leaning against the car as if they'd just stopped to take in the view.
Glancing over at Remus, he shook his head. “Have you considered a life of crime?”
“Very funny,” Remus said. “So, now I just need the ignition wire. . . .”
Finding a wire wrapped in brown insulation, he stripped it like the others.
Stroking it against them, Remus heard the engine begin to spark and took it away again.
“There, that’s it.” He got out and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “All you have to do is touch this wire to those two, and rev the engine enough so you don’t stall.”
Sirius didn’t move; he just stood there for a moment, gazing down at Remus. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”
Remus felt his cheeks turn red at the warmth in Sirius's voice. “Yeah, well . . . a misspent youth, I guess.”
They glanced back at the Mustang.
It looked even worse at a distance, like a demolition car at a fairground.
“Come on, we’ve got to push this thing off the road,” said Sirius.
“No way!” Remus protested in alarm. “Sirius, come on. Whoever owns this car is hiking down there. We could kill them.”
“No, look,” said Sirius.
He pointed down a hundred yards or so to where a dense line of trees and brush rose up from the scrabble.
“See, that’ll stop it. It won’t hurt anyone. And meanwhile it might buy us a little bit of time; no one will know we’ve been here until it’s found.”
Remus pursed his lips, gazing down at the tree line. “Yeah, OK,” he said finally.
They grabbed their things from the Mustang.
Sirius put it into neutral, and they started to push.
A few minutes later, the car was rolling down the steep slope with an almost eerie grace, gathering speed as it went, tires crunching against the loose rocks.
When it hit the tree line, it jolted and came to a stop, with much less noise than Remus would have expected.
Silence wrapped around them again, with the car nestled down among the trees like a strange piece of art.
A pang went through Remus at such a great old car being treated this way.
He stared down at its olive green body.
“I’m waiting for it to burst into flames, like in the movies.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” said Sirius.
He tossed his bag onto the backseat of the Chevy. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”
The car’s engine roared to life as he touched the wires together.
“Nice one,” he said, revving it.
He did a quick three-corner turn, then pulled away from the shoulder and headed west.
Remus found a map in the side of the door and unfolded it, trying to locate us.
“Good. Let’s try to take back roads all the way now,” said Sirius, craning his neck to study it.
“We’ll be in New Mexico soon, and then I’ll know where we are.”
Remus nodded.
Remembering the ice chest, he turned in his seat and pulled off the cooler lid.
Cokes, sandwiches, a few cans of beer.
His mouth twisted.
It was stupid, but he felt almost as bad about stealing these people’s lunch as he did their car.
They were going to have a really terrible day now, because of them.
“I hope one of those hikers has a cell phone,” Remus said, gazing at their picnic.
If they didn’t, then they had even more of a hike ahead of them now, to get back to the main road.
Sirius was watching him. “We didn’t have a choice, Remus,” he said softly. “I know that doesn’t make it right, but it really was life-or-death.”
“Yeah, I know.” Remus hesitated but decided that wasting the cooler’s contents wouldn’t help anything.
He pulled out a couple of Cokes and put the lid back on. “Here, do you want one? Since your coffee just went over the rim with the Mustang.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
Their fingers brushed as he took it.
His hand felt warm, and fleetingly, Remus imagined just leaning against his shoulder; Sirius putting his arm around him.
It would be so nice. It would be so really, really nice.
Remus shoved the thought away but found his gaze resting on the dark scab on Sirius's cheek where the glass had hit him.
Life-or-death.
And Remus had thought that he was calm, but he wasn’t — suddenly he was shaking.
He put a hand to his hair; he could feel that there was still glass caught in it.
Trying to control his trembling fingers, he propped his Coke between his legs and slowly picked out a few pieces: bright, hard shards that caught the sunlight.
Just like an angel’s wings.
~~~~~~~~~
Even in the moonlight, the ground looked dry, dusty, as though it hadn’t rained in a thousand years.
They’d crossed over into New Mexico a few hours earlier, crisscrossing their way on remote back roads — which, once they’d gotten out of Texas, had abruptly turned to dust.
The Chevy groaned along at about thirty miles an hour, with the wheels spitting up a steady stream of dirt and pebbles as they rumbled over the uneven ground.
Occasionally one would ping against the windshield, nicking it.
Sirius had frowned as he drove, concentrating on steering them around the ruts and dips.
Finally it had gotten so dark that driving had become too risky in the Chevy, so he’d pulled off the road and they’d stopped for the night.
They hadn’t seen another living soul in hours.
Now Sirius sat leaning against the car, drinking one of the Coors they’d found in the cooler, with Remus a few feet away, his knees pulled to his chest, staring out at the desert.
It had always reminded Alex of the ocean in a weird way — so endless and utterly silent.
And cold, now that the sun was down.
He had his leather jacket on, and Remus his jersey.
Sirius drained the beer, then crushed the can between his hands and played with the crumpled aluminum.
Ever since they’d pulled off the road, his mind had been replaying over and over again, like a bad dream, the moment when he’d seen the rifle pointed at Remus— the split second when he thought he might die.
His heart had almost stopped.
Sirius turned the can over in his hands, watching it glint in the moonlight.
In that moment he hadn’t cared whether Remus was a threat to the angels or about anything at all apart from saving him.
The thought of him being hurt . . .
Sirius swallowed hard.
When had the fact that Remus was half angel stopped mattering to him?
He didn’t know.
Maybe it was the reading Remus gave the waitress in the diner, or their time in the motel room, or just being on the road with him.
But at some point over the last few days, its importance had melted away.
The idea that Remus was in any real way like the invading parasites was laughable to him now.
His angel aspects were simply a part of who he was, and though Sirius didn’t like what had happened to bring Remus into being, he was still very glad that it had.
Sirius didn’t really care what he was, so long as he existed.
In fact, he could hardly imagine being without Remus anymore.
The thought stunned him; he felt his hands grow cold.
What the hell was going on?
Being attracted to Remus was one thing, but this was . . . Sirius's thoughts trailed off, lost in confusion.
It wasn’t just how Remus looked; it was Remus himself, everything about him.
Sirius hadn’t had this depth of feeling toward anyone since Regulus had died.
And he didn’t want to be having it, not ever again.
It wasn’t worth it; being close to people just meant pain, eventually.
For the second time that day, an image of his brother’s death flashed through his mind, and Sirius's jaw tightened.
“Is everything OK?” asked Remus.
Glancing up, he saw that Remus was watching him, his blond hair almost silver in the moonlight.
“Yeah,” said Sirius shortly. “Just kind of tired.”
Remus looked doubtful, his eyes scanning Sirius's face, but he didn’t pursue it.
“How long will it take us to get to the camp from here?”
Sirius scuffed his shoe across the sandy soil. “Four or five hours, probably. We should be there by noon or so tomorrow, if we don’t run into any trouble.”
Silence fell.
In the distance, a long, wavering howl sounded, and Remus jumped. “What’s that?”
“Coyote.”
He stared at Sirius, his face alight with amazement. “What, really?”
Sirius had to smile. “Yeah, really. They’re not just in the movies, you know.”
Remus shook his head. “It’s so strange. I grew up hearing robins and blue jays, and you grew up hearing coyotes.”
He touched his hair, making a face as he plucked out a piece of glass and tossed it onto the sand.
“Oh, honestly. I thought I’d gotten all of these out before, but there seems to be an endless supply.” He ran his hands through his hair again, searching.
Sirius said the words before he could stop himself.
“Do you want some help with that?”
Remus's head snapped toward Sirius, his expression startled.
Sirius shrugged, trying to ignore the sudden pounding in his chest.
“It’s just that I can still see some of them, right at the back. They’re sort of . . . shining in the moonlight.”
“OK,” Remus said after a pause.
Sirius moved over to sit beside Remus; he turned his back to Sirius.
Sirius's breath felt tight as he gently ran his fingers through Remus's hair, finding bits of glass and pulling them free.
His hair was soft against Sirius's searching fingers, and the desert lay vast and empty around them as he worked, neither of them speaking.
There was the faint almost-noise of glass on sand as he tossed pieces aside, and the sound of their breathing.
Remus sat very still, hardly moving.
Finally Sirius stroked his hair slowly, all the way down to the nape of his neck.
Sirius dropped his hands and swallowed. “I . . . think that’s all.”
“Thanks.” Remus's voice came out in a whisper.
It was all Sirius could do not to encircle him in his arms and pull Remus back against his chest.
Don’t, he told himself harshly. If you get close to someone again, you’ll regret it.
He scrambled to his feet.
Remus got up, too, hugging his elbows and not looking at Sirius.
“I — I guess we should get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” said Sirius.
It felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.
He took a step back. “I’ll just . . . ” He motioned into the desert.
“Yeah, me too,” said Remus with a quick, embarrassed smile.
He went behind the car while Sirius went off in the other direction a few dozen paces.
By the time he emerged again, Remus was looking up at the stars, his hands shoved in his back pockets.
Sirius slowly and quietly crept up behind Remus, and once he was within reaching distance reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
Remus let out the most high pitched scream.
"WHAT THE FUCK SIRIUS!"
Sirius doubled over laughing, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
"How were you so silent. You've got fucking padded feet or something." Remus muttered, throwing a dirty look at Sirius.
Sirius threw his hands up in surrender, turning to look up at the sky like Remus was.
"I love the moon." Remus whispered.
Sirius turned to look at him, taking in his side profile; the straight nose, the defined jaw, the long eyelashes.
"I don't know, this is probably weird or something but I've always felt some kind of connection to the moon." Remus said, looking down in embarrassment when he caught Sirius staring.
Sirius fully turned and watched Remus's face, etched in the moonlight.
He managed a smile. “That's lovely." He said, before looking down too.
He cleared his throat. "OK, well — we’re probably better off in the car. It gets pretty cold out here at night.”
Remus nodded, and a few minutes later they were in the Chevy, lying back on their separate seats.
Remus covered himself with his jersey.
“Are you going to be warm enough?” asked Sirius.
“I think so,” Remus said.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over him.
The gesture was much more intimate than he’d meant it to be, with Remus lying there gazing up at him.
He banished the thought and leaned back in his own seat.
“But you’ll be cold,” said Remus, touching the jacket’s sleeve.
“I’m fine.”
“Here, you take this, then.” He stretched to hand Sirius his jumper but stopped. “I mean — it’ll be a bit small for you, but —”
“That’s OK. Thanks.” Sirius took the jersey, his fingers closing over the softness of its worn fabric.
As he spread it over his chest, he caught a faded whiff of Remus's deodorant.
Remus wrapped the leather jacket around himself and closed his eyes.
“Well . . . good night,” he said finally.
“Good night... Moony.” Echoed Alex.
He didn’t go to sleep for a long time.