Take My Breath Away

  * * *

  Driving through the plains couldn't be any more boring—if anyone tells you different, they're lying, miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles. It was winter, so we didn't even get the waving fields of grain thing going on. I insisted on sharing the driving although both of us knew Izzy could have driven all the way across country non-stop. Truth is, driving gave me something to do. We'd talked out everything that happened in Forks. What happened with my dad was out, and there wasn't much more to say about our reception when we got home—we'd just have to wait and see on that one. There was probably more to be said about her human life, but she understandably needed time. The close confines of the Jeep, the monotony of mile after mile, made it difficult to control my urges. I'm pretty sure she was facing the same issue. We held hands for short periods and an occasional kiss when she was driving—no words were necessary.

  "Looks like I'm going to have to make another human stop. There's a rest stop in a mile, mind if I pull in there?"

  "Not a problem," Izzy replied in a vanilla tone.

  "You thirsty—well, you know what I mean."

  "I'll be fine until we get home."

  "Okay, then." I pulled off on the exit ramp. The parking lot was surprisingly deserted probably because of the time of year. I hopped out of the Jeep and almost collapsed on the ground. "Whew, I feel like an astronaut returning to earth after a long stint in space." I stretched my legs. "How long have we been at it?"

  "Not that long—five, six, maybe seven hours I guess."

  "Hmm." I headed toward the restrooms.

  It was evening—not quite dark—I was halfway to the building when I noticed the quiet. Seriously, there wasn't a sound, nothing. I heard the toilet flush in the men's room, that's how quiet it was, but there was something else, something I just couldn't put my finger on.

  "Mind if I join you?" Izzy said, slipping her arm under mine.

  "In the bathroom?"

  She frowned. "No, but I wouldn't mind washing my face."

  We separated as we approached the His and Hers signs. An older man—maybe fifty or so—came out of the men's room. He hesitated as we passed almost like he wanted to say something, but didn't. I looked back before going into the bathroom. He'd veered off the sidewalk and was hurrying across the grass toward the only other car in the parking lot. While I took care of business, I realized that the man looked scared. Maybe he thought we were going to mug him or something. It was funny how people could be so paranoid, but these days—well you just never knew.

  Izzy was waiting at the door when I came out. "There you are, what took so long?"

  "Three sodas," I joked.

  "Told you." She slipped her arm under mine and we headed back toward the Jeep.

  "That you did. We in a hurry?"

  "No," Izzy said, flatly, releasing my arm. "What gave you that impression?"

  We were almost back to the Jeep when a distinct yelp broke the eerie silence. I immediately turned toward the sound. "You hear that?"

  "What?"

  "Look there—at that car—the door is standing open." I had good vision for a human, maybe even keen, but I couldn't make out any details other than the open door and the faint interior dome light. "Do you see anyone?"

  Izzy looked annoyed. "No—it's none of our business anyway."

  "I passed a guy on the way into the bathroom—I think that might be his car."

  "Get in, Jason," Izzy demanded, "I'm driving."

  "Sure, but maybe we should check on that guy, make sure he's okay."

  Izzy pushed me onto the passenger's seat and slammed the door. She was behind the wheel before I took another breath.

  "What the—" I said as she hopped the curb and headed across the grass toward the interstate—away from the other car. "Mind telling me what we're doing?"

  "I had a bad vibe, that's all."

  "A bad vibe." I grabbed my cell phone out of the console.

  "No!" Izzy yanked it out of my hand.

  "Come on, at least let me call 911, the guy might be in trouble."

  "No! They can trace cell phone calls, when they find him, they could come looking for you."

  "Find him, as in dead?"

  She glanced down at the gauges. "We'll need gas soon, you can get something to eat then."

  It was obvious she wasn't going to talk about it anymore. The more I thought about it, there was another stop, yesterday where Izzy had acted a little strange—nothing like this—just a little guarded. Was it possible that humans crossed paths with vampires all the time and just didn't realize it? It was hard to believe, but there was no doubt in my mind that the guy I'd passed on the sidewalk was a vampire's supper. "That could have been my dad chowing down on that guy," I whispered.

  Izzy shot me a sideways glance, but didn't respond.

  "Hey, take it easy, the engine has over one hundred thousand miles on it." We must have been doing 90 mph.

  She cocked her head, listening to the engine. "The valve lifters are floating a little, but the engine is fine."

  That was the last thing we said until we pulled into the gas station an hour later.