Ill Wind by Rachel Caine Page B

much.”
    â€œI guess you know it’s not safe to drive like that.”
    â€œSafer than stopping,” I said, and then wondered why I had; I don’t confide, especially not in normal,mundane people. David nodded and looked out the window. “So how long have you been on the road?”
    â€œA while now. I like it. It’s beautiful out there.” He nodded toward the other side of the glass, where things were whipping by at Mustang speed. “Everybody should get out in the world for a while, just so they know who they are, and why.”
    It sounded philosophical and New Agey to me, but hey, I freely admit I’m cynical. “Thanks, I’ll take indoor plumbing, cooked food, and reliable heating any time. Nature’s great. I just don’t think she likes us very much.”
    â€œShe likes us fine,” David replied. “But she doesn’t stack the deck for one side or the other, and we seem to think she should. Cockroaches get the same shots as humans, in her view. And I think that’s fair.”
    â€œI’m not about fair. I’m about winning.”
    â€œNobody wins,” he said. “Or don’t you watch the Discovery Channel?”
    â€œMore of a Comedy Central fan, myself. And don’t tell me that you’ve got a cabin with cable stashed in your backpack.”
    He out and out grinned this time. “No, but sometimes I take a room at a motel so I can cleaned up and sleep in a bed for a change. You got something against the Discovery Channel?”
    â€œAdult pay-per-view,” I advised him. “Only way to go.”
    Strangely, I felt less sleepy and less fogged over with weariness since he’d gotten in the car. Maybe there really was something to misery loving company. Plus, a little casual flirting never failed to get my blood moving.
    He looked over at me with a smile that was just saved from being cynical by his gentle eyes.
    â€œReal life,” he said, “is always more interesting. You just never know what will happen.”
    Â 
    What happened was that we drove for another thirty minutes, and the skies were clear and menace free, and I finally was able to pull in for a pit stop at a place called Krazy Ed’s Gas ‘n Food. Krazy Ed himself ran the register. I don’t know if he was Krazy, but he was meaner than a pit bull, and I’d have been willing to bet that he’d killed a few would-be burglars in his time. David stayed quiet, polite, and he got out as quickly as possible with his haul of cheese doodles and Twinkies and diet soda. Evidently his oneness with Mother Nature did not extend to eating organic—or even partially organic—food.
    Delilah drank her fill at the pumps, I slid my feet in and out of the now-torturous high heels and asked Krazy Ed if there was anyplace in town he could recommend as a clothing store. Apparently there was. It was a little place called the mall.
    â€œMall,” I echoed after David and I were back in the car, safely out of Krazy Ed’s reach. “How big a mall can there be in a town this size? A Wal-Mart I could understand, wherever two or three of us are gathered together, but . . .”
    David didn’t say anything. He just pointed to the road sign directly in front of us. It read, GREEN HILLS OUTLET MALL, BIGGEST IN PA! Although, by my calculations, we were just wee miles short of being out of Pennsylvania altogether.
    â€œOh,” I said. “Pretty big, I guess.”
    So we followed the signs.
    Big wasn’t the word; the place was frigging enormous. I’d seen major airports that covered less land mass, and the cars—you could have taken a dozen big-city car dealerships and stuck them together in one contiguous lot, and you’d still have fewer vehicles than were choked into narrow rows around the Green Hills Outlet Mall. I offered David the chance to get a ride with some of the thousands of other mall shoppers, but