Michael by Aaron Patterson Page B

creature. The tide rose up to my chest. I tried to get free but my hands screamed in protest each time I reached down to push up from the billowing pile.
    I looked over my shoulder. The huge valley was filling up with them. Red as blood. Boiling in from everywhere. The sound was deafening. “No. NO!”
    It reached up with long white fingers and pulled back the hood. Red hair billowed out. Kim smiled at me with flaming eyes. She grabbed my arm.
    “No— No —NO!”
    I jolted awake.
    The seatbelt yanked me back, giving me whiplash. I growled in confusion and rubbed my shoulder where the belt had dug in.
    “You okay?” Kim was leaning over me, looking up from the back seat. She had her hand on my arm but I pulled it away, hugging myself.
    “Geez! Fine, I was just trying to be nice.” She sat back in her seat, folded her arms and pouted. “I’ll just sit here in the super comfy plastic straitjacket chair, don’t mind me.”
    “No, no, sorry. I just had a nightmare…” I reached back and took her hand, pulling her forward. “I’m sorry, Kim. I was just scared from the…er, dream.”
    Michael glanced over at me while driving. I gathered he had been watching the whole thing. “You were saying something about a key in your sleep.” He eyed me suspiciously.
    “I can’t remember,” I lied.
    “Well, it was freaky. You were mumbling incoherently and then just screamed. Loud.”
    “Yeah, I just about peed my pants.” Kim said with a snort. “Where are we? I think I dozed off too.”
    My stomach tightened into a little ball. I wonder if she had the same dream. Nah, she would have told me…unless she can’t remember. I settled back into my seat and pretended to stare out the window.

    We stopped at a truck stop in Mountain Home to eat breakfast. I excused myself for a moment and took a little walk through the chrome section. Truckers…only a truck stop has a chrome section. I looked around at all the accessories that could be bought and plastered onto those enormous freight trucks. It was crazy. There were those ubiquitous chromed mudflap girls, a totally skanky silhouette of a woman. I had to move on; I was so out of place; it creeped me out.
    I walked outside and watched the traffic coming and going on the freeway; the eighteen-wheelers pulling in to gas up. That’s a life lived on the run. I wonder if that’s all I have left. After a few moments to myself and some fresh air, I had begun to feel a little worse.
    What am I doing? This is not the best plan… letting myself fall even more in love with Michael. If anything, I should be pulling away, watching, thinking it through, waiting to see if we ever could make it. I should be smart about all this…but I can’t help myself. It was like the undertow at the Oregon coast on those summer vacations when I was just a girl, a dangerous sweeping pull that I couldn’t help or control.
    Kim found me. “Hey girl.”
    “Hey. You feeling any better?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not homicidal anymore. Sorry about all that.”
    “Oh, no worries,” I said, rolling my eyes. “As long as we have cinnamon mini doughnuts.”
    She didn’t get it. Joke fail. D’oh. D’oh-nut. Wow, Airel, get a grip.
    “Let’s find Michael,” we said simultaneously, and then giggled like the best friends we used to be. That’s how it feels. Like it used to be. I was going to be overwhelmed again soon if things didn’t start looking up. I shivered and was getting mad at myself for getting so worked up over a dream. My mood was in the tank now, when only an hour ago I was just enjoying being and talking with Michael.
    We walked back to the kidnapmobile and found Michael horking down a huge egg and bacon breakfast sandwich. “Look at this,” he said with his mouth full.
    “Ew,” Kim said.
    “Holy Captain Chipmunk Cheeks,” I said. “Hungry?”
    He swallowed, washing it all down with an enormous swig of soda. “Seriously, look at this,” he pointed to his