Count All Her Bones Page 6

  “It looks like a yellow spinning siren light.” Her dad lifted Cheyenne’s hand to the top of the car so she could feel it.

  “Those lasers give the car a three-dimensional view, while a human driver can look in only one direction at a time,” Ronald said. “The car takes all these pieces of information and turns them into things like steering, speeding up, or stopping. In another ten years, it will be talking to all the other cars around it. That will actually make things a lot easier.”

  “Because it’s drivers, not cars, that make mistakes,” Danielle said.

  “Your mom’s right. Drivers get drunk, fall asleep, overcorrect, speed. Basically, people, being people, tend to do stupid things. I’ve spent a lot of time in our prototypes. You see people weaving because they’re texting, or reading, or holding a quart of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. Once I even saw a guy playing a trumpet.”

  Cheyenne found the flaw in his argument for the car’s perfection. “But even if this car drives perfectly, what about other drivers?”

  “We’ve programmed the car so it knows that people aren’t always logical, that they might signal left and go right, or put their signal on and keep going straight. That’s why it knows to wait a second after a light turns green, in case people aren’t paying attention or decide to run the light.”

  It still felt like there had to be a catch. “Is it legal for me to drive it?”

  “As long as you have a licensed driver sitting next to you who could take control in an emergency,” Ronald said. “That’s why I’ll be there. It’s the same as it would be for a fifteen-year-old with a learner’s permit.”

  “We’re going to try to get the law fine-tuned so that you can just drive it yourself,” her dad added.

  Cheyenne didn’t doubt that he would make it happen. Nike was one of Oregon’s most important companies, and whatever her dad wanted tended to happen.

  It would be so wonderful to go someplace by herself. To not be dependent on anyone. She imagined rolling down the window and feeling the wind in her hair. She could take off for Seattle. Or drive to the ocean, sit on the sand, and let Phantom chase the waves.

  “Want to give it a try?” Ronald said.

  “What, right now?”

  “No time like the present,” her dad said, then repeated the old Nike slogan. “Just do it.” She heard him open the car door.

  Cheyenne stepped forward, found the seat, sat down, and swung in her legs. She took a deep breath of new car smell. In front of her was a steering wheel. On the floor, her feet nudged two pedals.

  Behind her she heard her dad and Danielle climbing in, while Ronald took the seat next to her.

  “Buckle up,” he said.

  Was this really happening?

  “Now you’re going to start the car,” Ronald said.

  She swept her fingers around the dash and steering wheel, but found nothing but buttons and dials. “Where’s the key?”

  “There isn’t any actual key, not anymore. There’s just a fob you have to have inside the car, like in your pocket or purse. I have it on me. And the start button is on the dashboard at about your four o’clock.”

  She grazed her fingers over the dash until she found it. It was round, about the size of a half-dollar.

  “Now put your foot on the brake, which is the floor pedal farthest to the left, and then press the start button.”

  “If this is a self-driving car, why does it have a brake and a steering wheel?”

  Ronald sighed. “We’ve had to add a number of redundant safety features in this introductory phase. They’re not really necessary, but they make lawmakers more willing to change the rules. So you have a brake pedal, I have a brake pedal, and there’s also an emergency stop button on the center console that anyone in the car can reach. I could also stop the car with my laptop.”

  “Can you drive it with your laptop?”

  “Not remotely, at least not right now. Either the car drives itself or, in some kind of emergency, the driver uses the steering wheel. So go ahead, put your foot on the brake and start the car.”

  Cheyenne’s palms were sweaty. Even if the car was supposed to do all the thinking and make all the decisions, even if Ronald was right here beside her, what if she did something wrong and got them all—including the baby inside Danielle—killed?

  She pressed the button and was answered with a soft hum.

  “Now you just need to tell it where to go,” Ronald said.

  “Where should I say?”

  “How about your school?” Danielle suggested.

  “The pane for navigation is in the middle of the dash,” Ronald said. “There, that’s it, the top one. Now press that small button on the top left, say where you want to go, and press it again.”

  She followed his instructions, overenunciating her words. “Catlin Gabel.”

  “Catlin Gabel is located at 8825 Southwest Barnes Road. Is that correct?” It was a woman’s voice, not that much different from the one on her computer, only not as fast.

  “Yes.”

  “Developing navigation route. There are three choices. One avoids the freeway. Do you wish to avoid the freeway?”

  Cheyenne waited for Ronald to give her some hint as to what to answer, but he was silent. Finally she said, “Yes.” She wanted to say more than these simple one-word answers. She wanted to ask Ronald a question. But she worried the navigation system was still listening to her and would be confused by whatever she said.

  “Will it hear me?” she whispered.

  “Not if you’re the one initiating the conversation and you don’t press the button. It will consult with you, and that’s the point where you need to be careful to not have too much background noise or other conversations, or it might need to ask for clarification.”

  “Auto driving,” the computer said.

  Cheyenne’s stomach lurched as she felt the car begin to move.

  CHAPTER 14

  STRANGERS’ BONES

  GRIFFIN

  Griffin took a sip of weak coffee, which he had watered down even further with milk. His stomach was churning. He and Aunt Debby were having lunch at a small café, which was crowded on a Saturday. He’d managed to swallow two bites of his cheese sandwich, but then had to put it down. Later in the afternoon, what remained of his mom would be returned to the earth. Only this time there would be a stone to mark where she lay.

  Aunt Debby broke the silence between them. “You’ve got some crumbs here.” She mimed brushing her chest.

  He busied himself, first with the flat of his hand, then with licked fingers to pick up a few stragglers from the crisp shirt.

  He hadn’t noticed it so much back in Chicago, when they were surrounded by her family, but the longer Griffin was with Debby in Portland, the more she reminded him of his mom. It wasn’t any one thing, but a million small ones. The way she held her shoulders, the turns of phrase she used, the emotions she didn’t express but showed in fleeting expressions.

  While he waited for her to finish her soup, he took out a pen and began to sketch on a napkin. He drew a tree standing alone on a barren stretch of land. Not only was it bare of leaves, but all the limbs ended abruptly, as if they had been pruned too far back. Debby watched as he shaded the underside of a branch, and then she said it was time to go. As they got up, she squeezed his hand. He left the napkin crumpled on the table.

  On the drive to the cemetery, they didn’t speak. Aunt Debby kept one hand on the wheel, the fingers of her other hand twisting in her hair. The sky matched Griffin’s mood. It was the color of cement, shading to charcoal in the west. The air felt heavy, like a storm was coming.

  They parked and then walked over the grass to the spot where the coffin was waiting. Not wanting to walk over strangers’ bones, Griffin zigzagged between the graves. Aunt Debby plowed straight ahead.

  Ahead of them, the turf had been cut away and lay to one side in a neat stack of narrow strips. The newly turned earth smelled fresh and clean. A pie
ce of bright green Astroturf with a rectangle in the middle had been laid over the grave itself.

  Above the expanse of fake green, his mother’s coffin hung suspended, resting on canvas webbing slung between two sets of silver poles. Brown and high-domed, the coffin was so shiny that Griffin wondered if it was really wood. If he could look inside, what would he see? Had they bothered to rearrange her bones the way an archeologist might after a dig, or simply tossed them in? The two bites of sandwich threatened to come back up.

  A man in a polyester suit gave them a tight smile and a nod. He was wearing a name tag, so Griffin figured he was from the funeral home.

  He wondered if the canvas ever tore, the poles ever slipped, the coffin went tumbling? It was all just covering up where his mom was going to go, a big hole in the earth, just like the hole out in the back pasture Roy had dug for her years ago with the Cat.

  In the next fifteen minutes, they were joined by a scattering of what he was told were old neighbors and people who remembered his mom from part-time jobs she’d had. Debby introduced him to each one, and each time Griffin promptly forgot their name and connection to his mom. He couldn’t focus on anything.

  Finally the priest showed up. He was wheezing before he even reached the grave, his face red. The two dozen people listened—or pretended to—as he greeted them and then began to drone on from something in the Bible.

  Griffin’s neck itched. The scar was made of thinner, more fragile skin. Not tough like you would think a scar would be. He loosened his tie, but it still felt like it was rubbing his skin raw.

  The priest just seemed to be going through the motions. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and his voice was a low mumble. Griffin shifted from foot to foot in his shiny dress shoes. It was all he could do not to break into a run.

  Finally it was over. Griffin walked off. Debby barely noticed him go. She was talking to that old lady, the one who used to go to church with his mom. He waited until he was a couple of hundred feet away and Aunt Debby had her back turned before he pulled out a cigarette.

  Mom was really gone. Griffin had always imagined that she was in Chicago, eating deep-dish pizza. Maybe listening to jazz, which was about the only other thing he had associated with Chicago at the time. Not thinking about him, obviously, because she never called, never sent a birthday card or even an e-mail.

  He had thought she was probably remarried, with a new family. That she had a better husband, one who didn’t fight with her. One who had a regular job. And a kid who wasn’t scarred. Who could read without stumbling.

  Tears pricked Griffin’s eyes, and he angrily blinked them away. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He didn’t need a mom.

  CHAPTER 15

  HERE AND GONE

  CHEYENNE

  That evening, Cheyenne couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. Today had been amazing. With her sitting in the driver’s seat, she had “driven” Ronald, Danielle, and her dad to school and back. After lunch, Jaydra and Phantom had gotten in the backseat, and they had gone to Phantom’s favorite dog park. The three of them had taken turns throwing a tennis ball until Phantom was too exhausted to chase it anymore.

  Afterward, they had gone out for ice cream. Jaydra had made Cheyenne wait at an outside table wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but still it had been great to be someplace that wasn’t home or school. It didn’t matter that while eating her hot fudge sundae she had to listen to Jaydra and Ronald discuss boring technical aspects of the car. It didn’t even matter when some creepy guy recognized her and Jaydra decided they had to get back in the car and go. The weird thing about the car was that Cheyenne could keep eating even when she was in the driver’s seat.

  Now Cheyenne lay on her bed and logged on to Facebook, ready to tell Griffin all about it. But a series of messages was already waiting for her.

  When she heard her computer read them, the smile left her face.

  “Went to Mom’s service today. Old man saying words over a hole in the ground. He never even knew her. She was here and gone and for what?”

  Followed an hour later by “Cheyenne, are you there?”

  Then “Cheyenne, please I need to talk to you.”

  And finally “Cheyenne, please.”

  The last message had been left over an hour ago. Her stomach twisted. “Griffin, are you okay?” she wrote back. But his messages hadn’t sounded okay. They hadn’t sounded okay at all.

  For nearly thirty minutes she waited, chewing on a thumbnail. From the living room came the faint sounds of her dad and Danielle laughing with Ronald and Jaydra. The happy sounds grated on her.

  Finally her computer chimed with an incoming message. She slipped her headphones back on as her finger flew to tap the button to play it.

  “I can’t take this anymore, Cheyenne. I need to see you so bad.”

  “It’s just two more days.”

  “The prosecutor scheduled another meeting Monday. That means I won’t be able to see you. But, Cheyenne, I have to. I need to. Please. Tell them you’re going for a walk and take Phantom. I could meet you in that park down the street.”

  If he knew about the park, he must have already managed to drive by her house. “Do you have your aunt’s car?”

  “No. I just took off. Left Aunt Debby and everything. I’ll figure out a way to get there. I need to see you. You’re like the only good thing left in this world.”

  “There’s just no way I can leave now, Griffin. But the prosecutor can’t meet with you all day Monday. As soon as you’re free, I’ll come to you.”

  “Monday’s too late. I don’t think I’ll be here then.”

  Everything stilled. What did he mean? “Are you leaving?”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  The ice cream she had eaten earlier felt like it was alive and squirming in her gut. “Griffin—are you talking about hurting yourself?”

  “I can’t testify against my own dad. I’m not sure I can do this anymore, Cheyenne.”

  With shaking fingers, she typed, “Can’t do what?”

  “This. Life.”

  “Don’t say that.” But part of Cheyenne understood. After the accident, after her mom died, she wanted to die, too. Life seemed random and terrible. Why should you bother to love or even care about anything, when it all could be taken away in a second?

  “No matter what happens, remember me.”

  “Don’t say things like that.” She wished she could type even faster. “Tell me where you are. I can come to you.”

  “You already said that there’s no way.”

  “There is a way.” If there wasn’t, she would make one. “I know you never meant to take me. I won’t let you hurt yourself over something that was an accident.” She took a shaky breath and then added, “Just tell me where you are and promise you’ll wait for me.”

  If she did what she was thinking of doing, her dad and Danielle and Jaydra would kill her. Not to mention Ronald.

  But if she didn’t do it, Griffin might kill himself.

  CHAPTER 16

  YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO

  CHEYENNE

  Cheyenne waited until everyone was in bed and the house was quiet. Because Jaydra was living in the guesthouse, Ronald was staying in the extra bedroom, which was one door down from Cheyenne’s. On the other side of his room was the gym. Then came the bulk of the house: the kitchen, the dining nook, the formal dining room, and the living room. On the far side was another hall with her dad and Danielle’s room as well as an office and a library. Which room, she wondered briefly as she tried to make a plan to get away, would be turned into the baby’s?

  The self-driving car was outside in the circular driveway. When the gates sensed the weight of a vehicle leaving, they would open automatically. She could tell the car’s computer where Griffin was: a country road not far from where his mother had been buried. And then it would take her to him.

  All she needed was the key—or the key fob—to make the car start. Only where was it?

&
nbsp; Just before midnight, she slowly opened the door to the hall and began to make her way toward the kitchen, avoiding every floorboard that creaked. Outside, it had started to rain, which provided her with a little bit of cover. Phantom padded beside her, hoping for a meal or at least a treat. Afraid that he would whine, she didn’t try to make him stay in her room.

  Once Cheyenne was in the kitchen, she ran her hands over the spot on the counter where they kept keys and charged phones and her dad put his wallet when he was home. She found all of those, but not the fob Ronald had told her about earlier. It had probably never left the pocket of his pants.

  His pants, which must now be in the guest room. Was it possible to creep in while he was sleeping? She knew the layout of the room, but she would have to explore to find the fob. She missed being able to look into a room and know immediately what was in it. And no matter how quiet she was, chances were good that he would wake up and then she would have some big-time explaining to do. Claiming to be sleepwalking probably wouldn’t cut it.

  Could she risk waiting until morning, when Ronald would be taking a shower, and she might be able to sneak into his room? But then how would she make it to the car without being caught? Both Danielle and Nick were early risers. And Cheyenne needed a head start before they figured out what was happening.

  Phantom scraped his bowl across the floor, reminding her that he was hungry, or at least wanted to eat. She peeled back the lid on a can of dog food and shook it until it slid into the bowl. While he gulped it down, her thoughts chased themselves. She had promised that she would go to Griffin as soon as she could. If she took too long, would his dark thoughts overwhelm him?

  Since she couldn’t get into Ronald’s room, she had to get him out. Every bedroom had its own bathroom, so it wasn’t like she could wait and hope that he might pad down the hall in his PJs to answer nature’s call. No, she had to roust him.