Page 62 of Forever We Fall

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” I straighten in my seat and wipe the tears from my eyes. “Want to pull over and let me drive?”

“You know how?”

I nod and then realize he can’t see me. “Yep, my mom taught me when I was twelve.”

“Twelve?” Shock laces his voice.

“She got anxious on the road. She didn’t like to drive. So when my father was out of town one day, she taught me.”

“Please tell me it took more than one day?” Arlo says, gripping the wheel as though it might fly away from him.

“A couple.” I shrug. “I’m a fast learner.”

“I forgot how humble you are.”

I want to bite back about why he’s forgotten. Instead, I point at a clearing just off the road. “Go ahead and take your foot off the gas. We’re going to pull over right there. Now, gently apply the brake. More.” He follows instructions beautifully. “Good. Now, aim your wheel with a quarter turn. More brake.” We stop. “Perfect. Put it in park.”

When he’s sure the car isn’t going anywhere, he peels his hands off the wheel and turns to me. His smile is brighter than the car’s headlights.

“I’m happy to be your first…driving lesson.” I smile back for just a second.

He swallows so hard, I see his Adam’s apple bob.

I smack the seat. “Slide over.” He does, and I lift myself across his lap, careful not to touch him. “Buckle up.” I do the same, and we’re back on the road, moving faster and more surefooted than before.

We ride in silence for a long time, weaving through backroads that I’ve never seen in person but memorized from a map.

“I was going to go in a few weeks.”

I don’t tell him that I know.

“I was going to walk there. It would have taken me all weekend to get there and back.”

Again, I don’t tell him I know. I hacked his computer and deleted all his search history, trash folders, and caches.

I also refrain from telling him how shoddy that part of his plan was. How he would have been seen by fifty people while walking. How he could have easily been identified.

“Thank you, Hota.”

“Thank me when we’re back and all this is behind us.”

“I will.”

There’s conviction in his voice. It reassures me that what we’re about to do will liberate Arlo in a way that nothing else can. For me, that’s enough of a reason to press on the gas and get us there a little faster.

I turn off the headlights a kilometer away from his uncle’s house, pull into a wooded lot in easy reach, and kill the engine.

We talked over the plan for the rest of the ride. Over and over it, we went. Still, my guts are in knots, as I suppose they should be. I’m about to kill a man, though I don’t qualify him as a human man. He’s more Oni, a demon, than anything.

When I look at Arlo, he nods once, his face pulled into a tight mask of certainty. He’s more sure than I’ve seen him, maybe ever. It settles the quaking inside. He exits the car, and I follow. We leave the doors cracked open, the interior light long dead, and head for the back of the house.

I follow his lead now. This is his nightmare. I’m just here to help.

We skirt the perimeter, still hidden in the brush. No lights are on inside. The house rises three stories into the night sky, scraping the moon with its spired roofline.

The waxing gibbous moon gives us enough illumination to measure our steps over fallen limbs and avoid divots. When wecircle to the back, we pull on our gloves without a word and lift our hoods.

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