JESSE WON’T LET ME HOLD THE BABY. I ASK HIM TWICE TILL HE tells me to shut up. It’s in Johona’s lap in the back seat. I reach my hand out and it grabs my finger. I ask if it’s a boy or a girl and Johona says it’s a girl. What’s her name? I ask. I don’t know, Johona says.
She wants to take the baby to the police. No police, Jesse says, we’ll drop her at a hospital. Johona’s shaking. Drop me there too, she says, please. I promise I won’t say anything about what I saw. Jesse looks at her in the mirror and says, It’s not us you’ve got to worry about it’s that biker. He runs with a gang called the Fiends. He’ll be coming back to life and him and the rest of them will be after me for dusting that man and you for grabbing the baby.
The child makes a noise and Johona lays it over her shoulder. They won’t find me, she says, Phoenix is a big city. Not big enough, Jesse says. There’s a story about someone stealing one of their motorcycles. They chased the man for two years and when they finally caught up to him killed him and the woman he was traveling with and five other people two of them children who happened to be in the house. That’s how they are.
Johona looks like she’s gonna cry. What are they? she says. What are you? Jesse tells her most of it. How we can’t go out in the day. How we heal when we get hurt. How we ain’t never gonna die. It’s too much talking and I know it already. I want to play pinball. They got Space Time at the bowling alley and Quick Draw and Fireball. I’m good at all of ’em.
Johona asks Jesse if he kills people and drinks their blood like the Fiends do. He tells her no. He tells her me and him are a different kind of rover. He’s lying but I don’t squeal. Me and him have secrets. You got to be careful. You got to keep your mouth shut.
Johona sits back and strokes one of her braids. My dad’ll know what to do, she says, he’ll help me. What are you gonna tell him? Jesse says. Monsters are after you? He’ll think you’re crazy. And if the Fiends find out where your family lives they’ll kill them too. So what should I do? Johona says. Get out of town for a couple months at least, Jesse says, for good if possible. You were talking about going to California. Go now. I don’t have any money, Johona says, and my car’s a hunk of junk.
We’re back in the city. Out the window there’s a giant holding a giant tire. There’s a building that looks like a castle and another with a blinking antenna on top. There’s a Ford pickup painted like it’s on fire. What are you gonna do? Johona asks Jesse. We’re getting out of here tonight, he says, driving as far as we can before daylight.
The baby starts bawling again. She’s burning up, Johona says. We’ve got to get her to a doctor. Jesse says we need to clean up first. We stop at a Gulf station and he takes me to the bathroom. He scrubs the blood off his face and makes me do the same. Johona and the baby ain’t in the car when we get back. She’s run off, I say. Quiet, Jesse says. He waits jingling coins and whispers okay when Johona comes out of the ladies’ room.
She gives him directions to the hospital. He parks away from the lights. She goes to get out but Jesse stops her. Better if I do it, he says. He asks for her shirt ’cause his is bloody. Johona thinks on it and takes off her top. Her brassiere is pink and shiny. A girl I fed on in Kansas City had one just like it. Jesse wearing Johona’s shirt makes me laugh. You sure are pretty Miss Jesse, I say.
He gets out of the car takes the baby from Johona and runs off across the parking lot. An ambulance drives past quiet but with its red and blue lights going. I ask Johona does she want me to sing Neil Young. She says no thanks watching where Jesse went. Don’t worry, I say, he’s real smart.
Jesse comes running back and strips off Johona’s shirt. We drive out of the hospital so fast I take hold of the dash. Jesse gave the baby to a nurse. She didn’t have any questions? Johona says. I imagine she did, Jesse says, but I got the hell out of there before she could ask them.
Everyone’s quiet for a spell.
Johona lights a cigarette. Can I go with you? she says. We aren’t going to Los Angeles, Jesse says. Anywhere’ll do, Johona says, I’ll get a bus from wherever we wind up.
We can’t have a woman with us. They’re bad luck, Jesse always says. He don’t even like Abby. But I can see he’s mulling it. I poke him and shake my head. He tells me to quit. Bad luck, I whisper. He don’t pay me no mind.
We’ll drop you in Denver, he says to Johona, but you have to do exactly what I tell you to while you’re with us. We can’t even stop at your place. Anything you need we’ll pick up along the way. Fine, Johona says.
We get to the motel and go inside. Johona sits on Jesse’s bed while he showers the rest the blood off him. You want to play Nickle Nock? I ask her. You need three cards that add up to 31. We can play for money or candy. She shakes her head no. You couldn’t shut her up before and now she’s got nothing to say. Abby’s in a corner watching her with hate in her eyes.
Jesse comes out of the bathroom and says it’s my turn. Hot water, he says. I scrub and scrub. Blood don’t come off easy. The water’s pink going down the drain. After I dry off I do a peek into the room. Jesse’s sitting with Johona on the bed. His arm’s around her and he’s talking sweet. She smiles but won’t laugh. The Little Devil pipes up. Him and her are going off together gonna leave you all alone, he says. Goose bumps rise on my arms. I yell for Jesse to help me get dressed.
Stop playing around, he says when he comes in. You know how to put your clothes on. Don’t leave me, I say. What’re you talking about? he says. You got Johona now, I say. We’re driving her to Denver that’s all, he says. You know I can smell a lie, I say. I’m not going anywhere without you, he says.
He carries our grips out and puts them in the trunk of the Grand Prix. I give Abby a bowl of Meow Mix and stand by while she crunches it. How old’s your kitty? Johona asks me. Twenty-five or thereabouts, I say. That’s ancient for a cat, she says. I turned her, I say. What? Johona says. I turned her into a rover, I say. She starts to cry. Jesse comes in and asks what’s wrong. You changed the cat? Johona says. Jesse gives me a look like he wants to kill me and sits down to sweet-talk her again. I’m glad she’s crying. The more you cry the less you have to piss.
We set off when she quiets. Pretty soon there’s no more buildings no more cars no more town. Everything’s dark except for the speed meter inside and headlights outside. Jesse checks the mirror over and over. Johona falls asleep laying across the back seat. I sing to myself real quiet. Mama’s song. I would not die in summer, when music’s on the breeze, and soft, delicious murmurs float ever through the trees.