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"I don't know. How do you feel? I'm not talking about when you change, but even when you're not a wolf, you're different. Is this something you work at? Or what?" |
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"Well, I guess it's some kind of weird side effect of the change. It's like I was born blindI was comfortable with it, I got used to it, liked it even. But now I'm slowly beginning to see. It isn't anything I asked for." |
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"Would you go back to the way you were if you could?" |
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Cyrus stared straight ahead. "No. I think I'd rather be dead." |
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They took turns driving and napping, but there was very little napping going on. Their conversation of the night before was still with them, a third passenger as real as the plastic Jesus on the dashboard. More than once, when she was supposed to be asleep, Cyrus felt Kyna's eyes on him. He could smell the anxiety in her sweat and almost hear the wheels turning in her head, but he didn't say anything. She'd work it out, he told himself. And when she wanted to talk, he'd be there. It was funny in a way. This trip, all the hours in the car, had brought them together in a way no airplane or train ever could. On a long drive people relaxed. After a while they opened up, let their true natures show. Cyrus turned his head and smiled. Maybe he should thank this guy Bryan when they met. |
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At one-thirty they rounded a curve and got their first glimpse of Albuquerque. The mood they were in, instead of a modern Southwestern city of chrome and glass, they saw an evil kingdom filled with deformed buildings and malignant trolls. |
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"I used to really like Albuquerque," Kyna said. |
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"Come on. It'll be okay. Have a little faith." |
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"I can't help it, Russ. I'm starting to feel like a condemned prisoner." |
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"What happened to 'We're going to survive this'?" he asked. |
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"That was last night. Today I see things . . . differently. I've been picking at the scabs on my soul and I'm afraid. The life |
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