We wandered around the mall for an hour before stealing another car out of the parking lot. This time we didn’t have a car to leave in exchange, but I found that car theft was really not bothering my conscience nearly as much as I thought it would. After all, Jason and I were running for our lives. Well. We were running for my life anyway. If the Sons caught Jason, they weren’t going to kill him. But they were going to force him to be the Rising Sun, something he didn’t want to do.
Unfortunately, we stole a car that didn’t have much gas in it. Jason was angry with himself, saying he should have checked the gas tank before we took it. I told him it was okay. We were both under a lot of stress. We had to pull off at an exit to buy gas.
I teased him. “You sure you don’t just want to rob the convenience store?”
“Our trail of crime should probably stop with stolen cars, don’t you think?” he asked.
I shrugged. While Jason pumped gas, I used the bathroom in the convenience store and bought a few snacks for the ride. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I was feeling peckish.
At the register, the cashier eyed me. She rang up my pretzels and soda, but she didn’t stop looking at me.
I paid, thanked her, and turned away.
“Azazel?” she said.
Without thinking, I turned around.
“I knew it!” the woman exclaimed. She waved a missing persons flier at me. There was my senior picture emblazoned on the front underneath huge letters reading: MISSING. Damn it. I hadn’t expected to be reported missing!
I fairly flew out of the store. “We have to go, Jason!” I said. “I’m missing!”
We had to leave before Jason was completely finished pumping gas. I was sure the woman had called some kind of authorities. It wasn’t good. She’d probably be able to give them a description of the car we were driving.
For the third time that day, we switched cars. We took a Ford Aspire from another rest stop. It had a full tank of gas.
Exhausted, we drove into the evening and the night. Virginia gave way to Tennessee, and eventually, Tennessee became Georgia. When we arrived in Shiloh, it was nearly four in the morning.
Shiloh wasn’t a big town. It was about the size of Bramford, actually. A few streets. Several businesses and restaurants, all closed because it was so late at night.
“Well,” I said, looking around. “Here we are.”
“Yeah,” said Jason.
Now where were we going to go? It seemed we’d have to go outside of town to even find a hotel to stay in. I hadn’t seen any as we were driving in. Jason drove up and down the streets, searching. “If Hallam is here,” he said, “there’s only one place he’d go.”
“Where’s that?” I asked.
“Sanctuary,” said Jason.
“A church?” I asked.
“A Catholic church,” said Jason. “Keep your eyes open. This far south, there shouldn’t be too many.”
“Why Catholic?”
Jason shrugged. “Their doors are usually open at odd times.”
And then we spotted it. A little outside town, all by itself, was a small Catholic church—Christ is King Catholic Church, read the sign outside. It too boasted some spires and ornate architecture. It was nothing like the church we’d gone into in New York City, but it was still very beautiful. I wondered why Catholic churches always looked... fancier than other ones. I mentioned it to Jason.
He gave me a funny look. “Did you ever pay attention to any of your father’s history lectures?” he asked.
“What?” What did that have to do with anything?
“The entire Protestant Reformation had a lot to do with the fact that the Catholic church was spending money on ornate works of religious art. The Protestants thought the parishioners’ tithes should go to more holy enterprises.”
“Really?” I said.
Jason parked the car and got out. I followed suit.
We stared at the church. It didn’t look open. But we moved forward anyway, walking up to the front doors. Jason put his hand on the door and tried the knob. It was locked.
“So now what?” I asked. “We try another church?”
Jason looked dead on his feet. “Maybe we could break in,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“No,” he said. He shook his head and yawned. “No, we’ll sleep in the car.”
“Will that be safe?”
Jason shrugged. We got back in the car. Cranked back the seats so that we were semi-reclined. There were some blankets in the backseat. We huddled under them. Jason gave me one of the guns. He showed me how to take the safety off.
“Don’t shoot unless I tell you,” he said.
I turned the gun over in my hands. It didn’t make me feel much safer. But I clutched it in one hand and closed my eyes. Snuggling with the gun, I feel asleep.