Page 90 of The Perils of Paulie
“I’ll be damned if I get any farther behind them. We’re so close, I can almost feel them.”
August 8
To: Tabby
Dixon wants to know where the Esses are. I know you’re not supposed to tell us, but I assume they are in front of us.
August 8
From: Tabby
Yes. Not far, though, according to Roger.
I contemplated keeping that fact from Dixon, since I knew it would keep him behind the wheel longer thanwas wise, but he was a grown man and he knew his limits. “They’re not far ahead of us.”
“Good.” A grim smile played with his lips. “This storm is going to be just the break we need. The Zust will have an even harder time than the Flyer in it.”
“Why?” I asked, reviewing the mental image of the Essex car.
“It’s smaller and lighter. I bet this wind is all but tossing them around the road.” He shifted the car into the highest gear, which let us zoom along at a dazzling fifty miles an hour. He brushed at the moisture on his goggles. “Cover yourself up with the blanket, love. No sense in you getting pneumonia.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling swept over me at his words. My father had always been overprotective, but I’d never until that moment appreciated how nice it was to have someone concerned for my well-being. I pulled the lap blanket over so it covered his legs as well as mine, and snuggled into his side. “Let me know when you need a break.”
Two miles later, we hit the detour. Evidently the storm had been raging in this area for a day and the bridge over a river had been damaged by some flooding upstream. We were rerouted off the highway to a single-lane road that wound through farmland, heading first one direction, then another, but slowly meandering toward a return to the highway.
Or at least that’s where I assumed the road led. The sky was so dark, we’d had to turn on our headlights in order to help see, even though it was only four in the afternoon. We bounced along behind a small car that eventually turned off at the entrance to a farm. I felt oddly alone as the Flyer struggled down the pothole-riddled road.
“This is—ow!—horrible,” I said, wincing when I bit my tongue at a particularly bad rut. “This road is more hole than paved surface.”
“If it wasn’t for the Essex team—” Dixon started to say, then suddenly swore and wrenched the steering wheel to the side. Looming up out of the near dark was the black shape of a person who was waving his arms. Beyond him was the familiar bulk of an antique car.
“Speak of the devil,” I said under my breath when Dixon pulled up and Anton leaned his head in, water streaming off his hat onto Dixon’s lap.
“Road’s flooded ahead,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps. “We only just got the Zust winched back out of it. Thought we might see you.”
“Hullo,” Sanders said, shoving his head in as well. “We thought we’d see you sooner rather than later. Road’s impassible ahead. Stephen is talking to the local farmer to see if we can stay the night with him. Shall we declare a temporary truce?”
“Temporary?” I said, my ire rising.
Dixon patted my hand and said, “That sounds like the sensible thing to do. Is there somewhere we can park the cars out of the rain?”
“That’s what Stephen’s asking,” Sanders replied, and withdrew his head when another figure stumbled around their car toward us.
“You haven’t seen Dermott and Clarissa, have you?” Anton asked.
“No. Why?” I felt my nostrils flare, even though I knew it was a far-from-attractive look. “Did the Esses do them in, too?”
Anton didn’t even look at me when he answered. “We lost sight of them about an hour back. They were ahead scouting out the road, but then the bridge closed and I think they were on the other side. What?” This last was said in response to a call from Sanders. “Ah. Good.” He leaned back in to say, “Looks like the farmer said we can park the cars in his barn.”
“What do you think?” I asked Dixon when he carefully backed up the Flyer, turning the great white car to follow the small black Zust down the driveway. “Can we trust this truce that Sanders mentioned?”
“Not for a red-hot minute,” Dixon said immediately. “I’ll sleep in the car tonight.”
“We’ll both sleep here,” I said, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to sleep while he was guarding the car.
“No need for you to get a crick in your neck, too.”
“There’s every need. For one, I want to be with you. For another, we’re partners in this race and we’ll take turns staying awake and guarding the Flyer.”
