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Demons weren’t meant to be confined to the tight space of a van, and especially not for hours on end. At least that’s how Matthew tried to convince Mika to pull over so he could stretch and get Suzu off his bladder.
In the trunk, wedged between luggage, Suzu and Damien had sprawled over Matthew’s lap while still technically wearing their seatbelts. They were sleeping soundly, while Matthew was stuck as their prisoner with his hoodie over his face like a blanket and his knees pressed together. In the back seat, Erik, Naomi, Andrew, and Sam had all managed to squeeze in together with the brothers in the middle and their lovers at their side. Andrew and Erik were sharing earbuds, and Sam and Naomi were curled up together, humming soft little notes to each other. James had shotgun with a number of books at his feet, some literature and some puzzle books with sudoku and pictographs. He had removed his glasses and let his eyes rest.
Mika was at the wheel, GPS hooked up, radio murmuring away at the lowest volume, bags under her eyes weighing her down but never stopping her. Her mind had passed the tired threshold into autopilot, locking her gaze on the interstate in her headlights, sole job of staying in her lane and looking out for the next exit.
Seven hours, from midday glare in her eyes to the sunset throwing violet and amber watercolors over the clouds, to midnight. Seven hours on the road. She was dead inside.
In one mile, stay in the left two lanes and take Exit 108 onto I-90 East
She tapped her turn signal with her pinkie and glanced up at her rear view. No headlights anywhere near them. She glided over two lanes.
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