Page 9 of Missing Moon

Ugh. I’m getting bitter again.

Haven’t thought about my feelings toward the parents in years. I thought I’d been over it… over them, but I suppose imminent death has a habit of peeling up scabs and causing some wounds to ooze again. There’s not really much point as far as I can see to ‘examine my feelings’ toward Mom and Dad. Maybe it’s on the cold side, but is it worth trying to reestablish a relationship with a man who’s going to be dead in a month? Especially when said man has shown me more or less nothing but ambivalence?

What if it’s not his fault? I mean it is pretty unusual for a parent to be like that, right? Aren’t we genetically wired to love our kids? By ‘not his fault,’ I mean, what if he has some sort of mental problem? When people talk about ‘attachment disorder,’ it’s usually in the context of neglected children who never emotionally attach themselves to a caregiver. Is it possible for an adult man to have it and fail to form proper attachments to his kids?

I dunno.

Again, is it really worth debating?

Around a quarter-to-two in the afternoon, we pull in to a rest area for some lunch, to stretch our legs, and use the bathroom. Idograb a chicken sandwich for appearances, though my actual meal comes from the collected consciousness of the twenty or so people in the food court around us. Maybe it’s a little cruel of me, but I lean on the employees more than visitors. Everyone here who doesn’t work at this place is almost certainly at some stage of a long road trip. Wouldn’t want to make someone with hours of driving ahead of them unusually tired.

The kids head to the bathroom while I wait for the food to come out. Soon, we’re at a table, eating together like any othertraveling family. Can’t help myself, but I occupy the time looking around at everyone in case any of them gives off a psychic poke. Watched too many movies or true crime stories about abductions. Every kid in here that looks even remotely unhappy gets me worried. Thankfully, nothing reaches out and slaps me in the psychic feelers.

And now that my mind reading has been returned... I dip into the minds of some of the sketchier looking adults. Most have normal frontal thoughts:Do I have enough gas to make the next station? Hell, do I have enough money for gas? Where’s little Ricky and Sue? Oh, there they are.

The buried thoughts I don’t worry about, mostly because it would take too much time to unpack them.

Once we’re done eating, we wander around for a bit to do the whole leg stretching deal. Finally, we make our way back to the Momvan. I take over driving duties. After a brief second stop to get more gas ourselves, we’re back on the highway. It’s crazy to think that going a few hundred miles is taking so long when I’ve teleported thousands of miles in an instant. Hell, millions of miles. Yes, I’m looking at you Mars! And maybe even the Sun, though the latter, I’m not so sure about.

Pax isn’t a little kid, though I’m glad she brought her tablet along. It’s keeping her occupied. No idea what she’s doing on it but… she’s absorbed. And yes, I got a car adapter thing so her battery doesn’t die. The Momvan has those round plugs for old school cigarette lighters, but never came with the actual lighter component. These ports are fully intended to support electronic devices. I suppose onecouldhave bought the lighter insert as an option. Not for me, though. I used to be a somewhat heavy smoker—especially, if I went out in the sun.

But I quit.

Ha. Of all the things fate did to me, I am really glad to have caught that break—being a psychic vamp, that is.

It’s one of the crappy parts of how the mechanisms of creation somehow respond to human consciousness. If enough people believe something, it tends to manifest. Hence the whole sunlight burning the undead vampire thing. Seen a movie or two where sunlight didn’t bother them at all. There are even fictional vampires who simply lose their powers during the day, but don’t catch fire.

This is where I would have grumbled about the majority of people thinking vampires should burn in the sun if I still happened to be undead.

Small favors.

One hour melts into another.

“Can you stop at the next rest stop?” asks Tammy. “I gotta go. Drank too much tea.”

“We’re out in the middle of nowhere.” Anthony gestures at the window.

Tammy fidgets for a moment, then climbs over the seat into the back part of the van, out of sight by the rear hatch.

Rustling sounds tell me she’s getting undressed.

Oh boy. I know exactly what she’s doing. I am not surprised when a black wolf head pops up over the rearmost seat.

I pull over to the side of the highway so we can let the ‘family dog’ do her business in the weeds. Anthony finds this absolutely hilarious. Paxton is mortified, even though Tammy races so far off into the brush no one can see her.

It doesn’t take long for her to come trotting back over and climb into the van. A few minutes after I rejoin traffic, she’s changed back into her human form, gotten dressed, and hopped back in her seat.

A few hours later, it’s getting on toward early evening. By now, everyone except Tammy is in serious need of a rest stop. I keep asking them to hang on a little longer since we’re almost there… until Paxton demands I stop right now so she can ‘water the grass’.

Apparently, the situation is critical.

Okay then.

We’re in a rural sort of area and it looks like there’s a super tiny town coming up. When I point out that we’re likely two minutes away from a proper bathroom, she admits she can hold it a little longer.

We end up stopping at a little gas station. It’s the sort of place where I expect the one guy working here to be named Cletus or Bubba. A white board with black painted letters indicates they have bait for sale. Of all the weird things a gas station could branch into for side money… bait? We’re not exactly at the coast here. Guess there are a lot of creeks and lakes around here. I kinda forgot how rural the area I grew up in was. It’s been a while since I’ve come up this way, so I don’t really remember the lay of the land right here.

I pull up to the gas pump. Might as well top off.

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