feeling like driving.” “Sounds like a plan to me.” “I’m surprised they let you

walk away,” she said.

 

Rogers touched the spot on his head. “They took it out, the implant. It changed

me. I’m…better.” He took a prescription bottle out of his pocket, popped some

pills, and swallowed them with his spit.

 

She eyed him. “Where’d you get those?” “Friends. In high places.” “Are they

helping?” “Yeah. In addition to removing the implant they got hold of the tests

that Jericho did, and figured out some of what was going on with me. They think

there might be a way to reverse it. For now, this keeps me from getting any

worse.” She reached into her purse and held up a plastic baggie. “What’s that?”

“Prime weed.” “Where’d you get that?” “From friends in low places.” Davis

navigated them to a highway, where she sped up and put the car on cruise

control. She settled back in her seat and looked at him. “How did it feel?” “How

did what feel?” “Jericho?” Rogers stared out the windshield at the night sky. “I

really didn’t feel good about it,” he said at last, his voice strained. “I

wonder what that says about me?” Davis reached over and took his hand. “I think

that’s actually a positive thing, Paul.” He glanced at her. “This is going to be

a rocky road, Davis. Feel free to eject at any time.” “You remember when I told

you my druggie dad died in prison and my mom croaked on crack?” “Yeah, but you

were bullshitting.” “No, I wasn’t. I stuck with them to the end. I think I can

manage you.” Rogers looked back out the window. “Maybe I can get a job…

somewhere.” “Maybe I can too. Maybe we can get an apartment. Have, you know, a

life or something.” “Is that what you want?” he asked, shooting her a glance.