The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters. Derek LandyЧитать онлайн книгу.
even notice,” Glen muttered, but they ignored him.
They drove on flat roads through flat lands. A few trees here and there, though paltry things, and lonesome. Telegraph poles linked hands over green fields and brown, and carried on into the wide, never-ending distance. A train on the tracks, its carriages the colour of rust and wine, names and slogans painted on the side in indecipherable graffiti.
They stopped at an Amoco gas station outside of a town called McCook, and Amber and Glen went in to use the restrooms and get sandwiches while Milo waited in the Charger. It was just after two and it was warm. The smell of gasoline was on the air.
“How much do you know about Milo?” Glen asked while they were waiting to pay for the food. The old man in front of them was having trouble pulling his wallet from his sagging pants.
Amber shrugged. “I know I’m paying him a lot of money to get me where I need to go.”
“So you don’t know anything about him?”
She sighed. “No, Glen, I don’t.”
The old man got his wallet halfway out before it snagged on the corner of his pocket. Amber watched, with an interest that surprised her, the tug of war that followed.
“Remember that story I told you,” Glen said, “about the Ghost of the Highway?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Then you suspect it, too.”
“I don’t suspect anything.”
“Milo’s the Ghost.”
“Glen, seriously, drop it, okay? We’ve been driving for hours and I am sore and cranky.”
“He’s a serial killer, Amber.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The old man turned slowly, looked at them with frowning eyes. Amber gave him a pleasant smile, and waited for him to turn back round.
“What’s ridiculous about it?” Glen asked softly. “He uses a car instead of a knife, but he’s still a serial killer. And that isn’t any ordinary car. You know it isn’t. It’s …” He leaned in closer, and his voice became a whisper. “It’s possessed.”
“Glen, you sound so dumb right now.”
“You saw what it did. It swallowed Shanks. That wasn’t my imagination running away with me, no matter how much I try to convince myself. It swallowed him. It’s possessed.”
The old man finally paid and moved off, and they stepped up to the cash register.
“Any gas?” the bored girl asked.
“Nope,” said Amber, and paid.
They walked outside, looked across the forecourt to the Charger.
“We’re at a gas station and he’s not even filling the tank,” said Glen. “How many times has he had to stop for petrol? Twice? Three times? Travelling all this way, he’s had to stop for petrol three times? Do you know how much fuel a car like that burns?”
“So this car has good fuel economics. So what?”
“Aren’t you wondering what else it runs on? He said it’ll digest Shanks. How many other people has it digested? And look how clean it is. It’s always clean and I’ve never seen him wash it. It’s like it cleans itself. And what’s the deal with him only being able to drive it eight hours a day?”
“On average,” said Amber. “He’s driven it longer.”
“But what’s the deal? Why that rule? Why eight hours? Because it’s road safe? Or maybe it’s got something to do with him not wanting to push his car too hard or else it’ll get tired.”
She turned to him. “Fine, Glen, I’ll play this game. What does it mean? Huh? What does it all add up to?”
He hesitated before answering. “I think the Charger’s alive.”
“Oh my God …”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not just a car, is it? It’s more than that. You know it is. You got him a sandwich, right? What’s the betting he’s not going to eat it?”
“And what will that prove? He’s not hungry?”
“He doesn’t eat when he’s driving,” said Glen. “I don’t think he sleeps when he’s behind the wheel, either. Did he sleep this morning? Did you see him sleep? I didn’t.”
She rubbed her eyes. “I was sleeping myself, okay? I didn’t see much of anything.”
“What about going to the toilet? We needed to pee – why didn’t Milo?”
“Dude, I’m really not going to talk about anyone’s bathroom habits.”
“We’ve asked him to pull over so that we could pee, like, twenty times so far.”
“You’ve got a bladder problem.”
“I pee, you pee, he doesn’t pee. Have you seen him pee?”
“No, Glen, I have not seen Milo pee. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I think the Charger sustains him. I think it takes his … y’know, his waste—”
“Ew.”
“—and uses it, and when he’s behind the wheel his body doesn’t need to function the way our bodies do.”
“That is disgusting. And stupid.”
“He said the Charger would digest Shanks. That means some part of it is organic.”
“He was being metaphorical, you idiot.”
“Are you sure? He’s the Ghost, Amber. He’s a serial killer, and he’s bonded to the Charger. Maybe he doesn’t do it anymore, maybe he’s reformed, I don’t know. But you said he took it out of storage for the first time in twelve years? What if it’s like an addiction? He’s stayed away from it for all this time and he hasn’t needed to kill. But now he’s back using it again. How long before it takes him over? How long before he becomes the Ghost of the Highway?”
“This is a stupid conversation and it is ending right now.”
She walked across the forecourt, black asphalt hot even through the soles of her shoes. Glen kept up.
“It swallowed Shanks. It’s alive. You know what I think? I think the reason he doesn’t turn on the radio is because he’s scared of what the car might say.”
She spun round to him. “If you’re not happy with our mode of transport, you don’t have to travel with us. No one’s asking you to.”
Glen looked her dead in the eye. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“He’s not going to hurt me.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you,” she said, and stalked back to the Charger.
She got in, slamming the door. After a moment, she got out again, held the door open while Glen got in the back. Then she retook her seat and slammed the door a second time.
“Everything all right?” Milo asked.
“Fine,” said Amber. “Here’s your sandwich.”
He took it. “Thanks. I’ll have it later.”
He turned the key and the Charger roared to life. It rolled smoothly across the loose gravel to the road as an eighteen-wheeler thundered by. Milo watched it go. While he was distracted, Amber reached for the radio.
Her fingers hovered over the dial. One turn. One turn, one twist, and music would fill the car,