I don’t need to look again to know that our fridge is a proverbial wasteland. “Pretty sure you horked down that one too, man.”
“Oh, shit.” He considers that for a second, then shrugs. “I could still eat, though. You want to go get some takeout?”
The only things I want to do are find Gigi and then fall into bed, preferably in that order. “I don’t want to go pick anything up.”
“That’s why we have pledges.”
I have no idea how Cole manages to eat half a dozen meals a day and still fit through doorways, but you’d never know to look at him that he has a bottomless pit for a stomach. “I’m good.”
Cole just shakes his head with a sigh of disappointment. “You don’t abuse your power nearly often enough.”
“I’ll have to remind you of this conversation when you get elected to public office, pretty sure they make you swear to serve the people or some shit.”
Cole chuckles at that, totally unabashed. He goes to the fridge, pulls a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and pops the top off it. “Pretty sure that won’t be necessary.”
The sickly-sweet smell of artificial vanilla makes my stomach churn. “I pity whatever part of the country you end up running.”
“Part of the country?” Cole asks with mock incredulity. “I’m not stopping until I get the whole thing, at least.”
I’m more than a little curious about what he means by at least, but I don’t ask him to elaborate. If Cole is secretly planning to take over the world, I don’t really want to know about it. The guy can plan his future empire without my input.
When Cole grabs a pint of milk and starts pouring it over the ice cream, I’ve had as much as I can take. “Enjoy the heartburn, man.”
“Better believe it.”
I already know my room is going to be empty when I get upstairs. But I can’t stop the stab of disappointment when the door opens on an empty room. I’d forgotten to close the window last time I left, so I’m met with a blast of frigid air that forces the door closed behind me with a loud bang. I don’t bother to close the window before I collapse into the bed, too exhausted to care. My last thought before I crash has nothing to do with the frigid cold of the room.
Where the fuck is Evangeline?
Chapter Eight
Getting in touch with my oldest friend is harder than I remember. Mercy doesn’t use phones, at least not any she holds onto for more than a couple of weeks. Memorizing her number is less than useless because it’s constantly changing.
Luckily for me, I’m one of the few people in the world that she has any interest in keeping touch with, so we’ve worked out a system. She lets me find her when I need to because I rarely abuse the privilege.
I had to start with the anonymous message boards she frequents, create a new account with the nickname that only she knows, and then wait for a message.
Thr0wAw&y69_420: What did the rabbit say to the hare?
AliceinSavageland: Sorry friend, I didn’t see you there.
Both the question and answer sound like childish nonsense. And they are, because we made them up when we were kids.
It took over an hour for me to get another message, which was just a link directing me to an online video chat. I’m forced to stare at my own face for ten solid minutes before another box finally pops up on the screen.
Instead of a person, I’m looking at a murderous rabbit with red stains around a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Total nightmare fuel.
“Mercy?”
A disembodied, but recognizable, voice floats out from behind the mask. “Jesus, don’t use my name. You have no idea how hard it is to get a new laptop out here. Please don’t make me burn this one.”
“Sorry.”
“Is that a public computer?”
“Of course.” I’d trekked all the way into Drumsville to use the local library, just because Mercy always insists on leaving as little of a digital trail as possible. The people of this town must not be big on reading because the place is deserted. I’m the only one using one of the ancient computers they have in a windowless room at the back of the building. “What do you take me for?”
“I never know with you. Can’t blame me for being careful.”