Ugh.
As we trudge along, I begin to come up with the start of a plan. If he’s spent his entire existence trying to restore balance to an overly growing and thriving human population, and if he gets his jollies from killing people, what might change that?
Triple chocolate ice cream.
A spin on a great roller coaster.
Watching a child hug their mother.
Basically, my grand plan for saving humanity in three days involves trying to win over a death demon to the prospect of living. It’s not a great plan, but it’s something. And I did negotiate for three days with someone who told me repeatedly he wouldn’t negotiate.
It’s really too bad he didn’t trap someone else, someone like Amanda Saddler, or maybe my bright and bubbly cousin, Emery. She’d have been great. She’d giggle-smile him into caring about humanity.
Or maybe he’d have un-alived her right off like everyone else.
Maybe it’s my perverse and irritating nature that fooled him into bonding me and gave me the chance to win us this small reprieve. I don’t plan to waste it, no matter what twist of fate flung me into his path. I do think the key to my success lies in figuring out why he won’t kill me, because I think there’s something there he isn’t telling me.
Mom always says the way to really do right by someone is to figure out what they want and then contrast that with what they need. People don’t usually want the thing that they truly need, and they don’t usually know what they need, only what they want. So my goals are:
1. Figure out what Mr. Death wants.
2. Figure out what he needs.
3. Figure out why he hasn’t just killed me.
And…
4. Use this information to put him back inside the mountain or end him so I can save the world.
Easy peasy, right?
Right.
So far, he’s doing exactly what he said he would. We’ve started passing way more cars and settlements, and the cars aren’t crashing, and nothing around us is burning. Also, as we move toward Reno in the darkness, the lights around us aren’t all blinking out, so the tech seems not to be imploding.
I pat his neck. “When you’re able to talk again, I’d like to know what you do to cell phones and the internet and why you do it. I’d also like to know what you meant when you said you were attracting attention.” I yawn. “And I’d like to know when we’re stopping, exactly, because I’m really, really tired.”
I’m starting to sway on his back a little.
At first, it’s just swaying, but after a few minutes, it’s more noticeable. When a car pulls over on the side of the road and someone starts yelling at me, I nearly fall off his back.
“What?”
“I said, do you need help?” The driver’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m so proud of you for not killing them.” I rub his neck near the patch of hair I yanked bald when I startled awake. “Sorry about pulling that big chunk of hair out.”
“Hello?” The man looks pretty impatient for a do-gooder.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just doing a little training out here.”
“You’re thirty miles from the closest hotel,” the man says. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He’s driving a Honda. What is he thinking he’d do to help me? It’s not like he could pull a trailer, even if he had one.
“Actually,” I say. “How about I get off my horse, and you can let us climb into your car, and then you can give us a ride to Battle Mountain?”
Before I can explain that I’m kidding, Xolotl shifts.
I nearly faceplant in the dirt.
