Hitchers

Sal looked at the money, then at me, waiting.

“Will you promise to call me once a day, and tell me whether Dave is still gone?”

“That’s it?”

I nodded.

Sal took the card and the money. “Hell yes. What time?”

“I don’t know. How about noon?”

Sal nodded. “High noon every day. I can handle that.” He looked at the stack of twenties. “You pay handsomely.”

“It’s life and death. In fact, I’ll give you another thousand two weeks from now if you call me every day.”

Sal held out his hand, and I shook it. “You got a deal.”

If this is true… I kept thinking on the way back to Mick’s place. I didn’t want to wish Dave gone, but if he was…

Lorena had insinuated that it wasn’t a matter of choice, that she would leave Summer if she could. But that would be like willing yourself to not like chocolate, or to not love someone. You can’t not feel what you feel. What if you stop feeling it, though?

The trick was coming up with some way to make Grandpa lose his will to stay. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t think of anything. Killing Toy Shop might do it. I could discontinue it, but as I demonstrated after Grandpa was gone, you can always start a strip up again. What could I do—cut off my hands and burn out my eyes? The stony bastard would hold the pencil in his mouth if he had to.

Maybe Sal’s revelation could help Mick and Summer, though. Especially Mick. Gilly seemed to be back for one reason, and one reason only: finish the album and get Mick to record it. Beyond that he didn’t have much of a life to return to. If Mick pitched in and helped him finish, he might just drift away. In fact finishing the album would also mean Gilly had patched things up with Mick, working alongside him (metaphorically speaking) just like in the good old days, and that seemed to be the crux of Gilly’s drive to be back in the world of the living.

We’d been focused on finding a solution that would free all three of us, a one-size-fits-all hitcher- exterminating process. A silver bullet; a wooden stake. But these weren’t monsters, they were people, and each had their own reasons for being here. It made sense that each might require a different rite of exorcism. For some, there might be none at all.

CHAPTER 33

As the news droned in the background I paced Mick’s apartment, nervous about the trip to the hospital, eager to get started if we were going to do this. There was no point in moving until Lorena showed, and that could be in one hour, or thirty. Once she showed we’d have to move quickly, and hope we didn’t draw the attention of any God’s Hammer nut jobs.

I brushed past Gilly, who was sitting in a leather chair beside one of the big windows, completely absorbed in his composition, his eyes clenched shut, his lips moving silently.

“How’s it coming?” I asked.

Gilly opened his eyes. “It’s coming. I wish Mick would try out a few of the songs I finished.”

Mick glowered when anyone suggested he do this. He didn’t buy my logic. The way he figured it, the more attached Gilly got to his songs, the harder it would be to send him back where he belonged. At least, that’s what he muttered when I told him my plan. I didn’t think he was being completely honest with me, though. He’d seemed evasive, almost angry when I suggested he help Gilly finish the album.

“How many hours has it been?” Summer asked. Her hair was down today; it was dark and silky, perfectly straight. Not quite long enough to touch her shoulders. She flipped through channels, stopping on a football game. The Bears versus the Colts. “Ooh. Anyone else here a football fan?”

“Eighteen hours and counting. I’m a Bears fan, since I was about nine,” I offered.

“Really?” Summer’s eyes lit up. She held up her hand for a high-five without leaving the couch; I adjusted my pacing route, slapped it, then joined her on the couch.

“My grandfather was from Chicago. I’ve been a Bears fan since I was three.” Summer dropped the remote and propped her feet on the coffee table. The Bears were down 7-3. While Gilly worked, and the National Guard reinforced the barricades set up around the Route 285 loop to repel a horde that was growing larger and angrier by the day, we watched football. I’d already posted what I’d learned from Salamander on the relevant websites, but still, we should have been scouring the Internet for clues on how to shake our hitchers. Time was not on our side.

I glanced over at Summer, who was staring up at the massive TV screen sporting a half-smile, hugging one knee.

She saw me looking, looked at me. “Mmm, smell that?” The aroma of onions and peppers wafted through the open windows, from Queenies.

“Nice,” I said.

“Do you like to cook?”

“No. Lorena was the cook.”

“I can’t cook either. Opening the refrigerator is a humbling and confusing experience for me. I eat fast to dispose of the evidence.”

I laughed; I could definitely relate.

Jay Cutler completed a twenty-yard pass on third and ten. Summer raised her fist in the air.

“Nervous?” I asked.

“Plenty.”

“Just be careful not to fall out and you’ll be fine.”

She shifted position, pulling one foot underneath her. “I’m more afraid of seeing my brother than anything else.”

Across the room, Gilly dropped his pencil. “Okay. Hey, Mick.” The way he said it reminded me of Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man (only dead); I wondered if Gilly might be slightly autistic. In some ways that fit him, but in others it didn’t.

Mick brushed the knees of his jeans, stood and stretched. “All right, Finn? Summer?”

“Good to see you, Mick,” I said.

Mick went to the window, stared down at the sparse traffic below. “Good to be me.”

Summer jumped up, tugged my sleeve once, and headed for the door. “Let’s go.” Correction—it was Lorena now. I hadn’t even noticed the transformation.

It was remarkable, how different a body looked depending on who was controlling it. Summer’s gentle, slightly pigeon-toed gait, her tendency to clasp her hands behind her back, was replaced by Lorena’s assertive stride, the flex-relax, flex-relax of her thighs, the loose swing of her wrists. Summer’s squiggly smirks, which would have been right at home in a Peanuts strip, would be replaced by Lorena’s wide smiles. Although Lorena wasn’t smiling just now. She snatched up Summer’s coat and purse from beside the door, turned to wait for us. “If we’re going to do this, let’s go.” Her tone was tight, impatient.

We threw on our coats, hurried to join her.

“You don’t mind?” I asked, touching her elbow.

Lorena shrugged, looked at the door. “Sitting in a hospital room isn’t how I’d like to spend the few hours I get before I’m banished again, but you’ve all decided already, so let’s get it over with.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish we had more time to spend together. This is so important to Summer, though.”

“Fine. I’m not arguing.”

Mick slid past us and out the door without a word.

“Are you all right?” I asked Lorena.

She looked at me for the first time. “You know, in case you forgot, I was there while you and Summer were finishing our date.” She spit the word “date” like it was a pit. “I could see how you were looking at her. You looked