"That's gotta stink," she remarked, and Krit picked one up, smelled it.
"Yup."
"We'll stop somewhere and throw them out," Syl said. "Make sure no milk dripped on the seats- I like this car." She smiled. "Though I guess you probably drained the whole thing from that seizure." She glanced at him and frowned at the expression on his face. "What's wrong?"
"Pull the car over," he said softly.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked, already obeying. She stopped the car and he handed over the milk carton without a word; she took it, bemused, and looked down. It took a long time for her to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.
"February 20th," Krit said in a tiny voice. "The day we were compromised." He turned the milk carton in her hands so he could see it too, looking at the picture and stroking a finger down the side of Tinga's face. "She went back," he whispered. Tears blurred Syl's vision and she shook her head.
"No," she breathed, looking horrified at the line reading 'HAVE YOU SEEN MY MOMMY?'
"They'll never know," Krit said softly. "They'll never know what happened to her. Like Brin-"
"Stop it," Syl bit out in a whisper, raising the carton to throw it into the backseat. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to do that, so she just laid it gently on the seat behind her and turned away.
"We've lost them," she whispered. "All of them, not just Tinga. Zane, Jondy... we don't know where they are." She tried not to cry. Krit's hand was warm and soft against her hair. She tried to imagine how all of this had come about; she still hadn't had a chance to sit down and think about it since they'd been on the run. It couldn't have been that Zack talked, it couldn't. She wouldn't even consider that possibility. Something else must have happened. But what? She felt Krit's eyes on her.
"Let me drive," he said gently. "You need to sleep." After a long moment she turned to him, eyes hollow, and nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. They traded seats and Krit resumed driving; Syl settled back in her seat, but her eyes remained open and worried. After a few concerned glances in her direction Krit reached a hand over and took hers, squeezed.
"Zack will tell us where they are when he calls," Krit murmured softly. "And what happened to Tinga." Syl wasn't so sure. Four of them had been compromised, and Zack was probably very annoyed about that; this would be a perfect opportunity to keep them apart. But she didn't say anything about that because she didn't want to upset Krit, so instead she closed her eyes and waited for sleep. It didn't come.
"Krit," she said, eyes still closed. "Turn on the radio." She heard the click and country music came on; the channel was immediately changed to rock, alternative, rap... he couldn't seem to settle on something. Pre-pulse, reggae, pop, news... Syl started falling asleep.
"... third murder in as many weeks. The first body, identified by the victim's widow as Timothy Ryan..."
Zack was standing on the shore of a large lake. The water was clear
and cool and lapping gently, and the clouds were reflected in the lake.
"It's beautiful," Syl said softly, coming to stand next to him. Zack grabbed her arm.
"Be careful," he said urgently, pulling her back from the water.
"What's wrong?" she asked him.
"The water's poison."
"I wasn't going to drink it."
"Just stay back. I can't watch you all the time."
"Where have you been, Zack?" she asked softly. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. Syl held him close, thankful for his strong presence.
"It doesn't matter where I've been," he whispered. "I'm just glad to be here now."
"Tinga's missing."
"She's in there," Zack said, gesturing to the water.
"Why didn't you stop her?" Syl asked, alarmed. He shrugged.
"There's only so much I can do." He pushed her away a little. "You take up too much, there isn't enough left for all of them. Syl blinked against tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Well, that doesn't do much good, does it, Syl?"
"Syl!" Krit was nudging her awake. The news was still on and the car was
stopped.
"Music," she protested, glancing at him. "Why-" The look in his eyes stopped her.
"Ben's killing again," he said. She stopped ignoring the radio.
"... joining us, the body of Timothy Ryan was discovered last night in the woods outside Chicago. The victim's teeth were pulled out and his neck had been broken. Police are saying that the strength it would take to..."
"I can't believe this," she whispered, her voice full of both anger and fear. "Didn't he see the broadcast, doesn't he know how dangerous it is for us now?"
"I know," Krit said. "I know, I know."
"... victim's widow is an eyewitness in this investigation which started as a missing person's case and has escalated to a statewide manhunt. The killer is described as a white male in his early twenties, with short brown hair, blue eyes, with unusual strength and speed. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see anyone matching this description you are to immediately call the police. Do not attempt-" Krit switched the radio off.
"Where are we?" Syl asked immediately.
"Just entering Montana."
"We can be in Chicago in four hours."
"No, Syl," he said firmly. She stared at him.
"This isn't a choice. Zack isn't here and we have to help Ben."
"He's long gone by now, and if he isn't than he's as good as caught. We have to keep moving." She would have stared at him with disgust but the pain in his voice was obvious. She started crying.
"Where is he?" he whispered. "Where is he?"
"Ben?" Krit's hand was gentle against her hair. She started to pull away but somehow managed not to.
"Zack."
"He'll call."
"Stop saying that, you don't know that."
"You need to sleep, Syl."
"What about Ben?"
"We can't do anything."
"I hate you," she whispered bitterly through her tears. Krit pulled his hand back and started the car.
"Sleep, Syl," he said, his words barely audible. She kept crying and he kept driving and they didn't say anything more to each other that night. The radio stayed off.
By the time they reached a motel in Billings it had been six hours since
they'd said anything to each other. Krit checked them in and led her to a room,
throwing his bag down on the first bed. He collapsed onto it, exhausted, and
stared at the ceiling.
"I want to sleep there," Syl spoke up quietly.
"Why?"
"I just want to." At that, Krit rose angrily to his feet and threw his bag onto the other bed.
"Fine," he snapped.
"Don't be mad," she said softly as she sat gingerly on the edge of her bed. Krit turned and stared at her for so long that it made her uncomfortable. "What?"
"Syl, what the hell is wrong with you?" he asked suddenly, his voice angry. She blinked.
"Wha-"
"I have tried everything I can think of, Syl! I've tried being gentle with you, I've tried being tough on you- nothing works! You just keep shutting me out. I don't even know you anymore. You never talk to me. I just don't know what you want from me and it's so goddamn frustrating!" Syl cringed away from his harsh tone and he glared. "Don't do that. Don't act like that. What's wrong with you?" he asked again.
"Stop it!" she yelled suddenly. Stop trying to push me!" she yelled back. There was a short, tense silence.
"You blame me," he said. She didn't respond for a moment, surprised by his statement.
"That's ridiculous, Krit."
"Then why won't you let me touch you? Why do you turn away every goddamn time I try to talk to you?" he shouted. Syl blinked against tears and glared.
"Stop yelling at me," she hissed. Krit ran a hand through his hair and sat down beside her.
"I can't deal with you being like this on top of everything else. Do you think this is easy for me?"
"Then why don't you just go?" she asked bitterly. "If I'm so hard to deal with, just go."
"Syl-"
"No, really, I don't care!" She stood up and stalked to the other side of the hotel room. "Go, Krit. Lydecker's not on our tail anymore, he would have found us by now if he was. Just go, we don't need each other anymore."
Krit looked angry. Really, really angry.
"Dammit, Syl, why the hell do you talk like that?" he growled. "You know that's not-" He broke off and shook his head, too angry to speak. "I can't deal with this."
"Then go!" she yelled again. She was crying now. He stared at her, then walked over suddenly, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to face him. He gave her a shake.
"I don't know what the hell you want from me, Syl," he said, his voice low. His eyes were dark and angry and she was upset that they scared her.
"Don't, Krit," she said softly, bringing a hand up and laying it on his
chest, giving him a firm nudge. He dropped his hands and clenched them into
fists at his sides. Then he turned and grabbed his jacket, slamming out of the
hotel room. Syl sank down against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest.
After a little while she stumbled to their things and found the bottle of
tryptophan they'd picked up a few days back, popped a few. She laid down in her
bed and tried to get some sleep, but all she could concentrate on was the
silence coming from where Krit should have been.
