Jordan watched a swathe be cut across the gray-choked sky, far away, in a plane’s wake.

It was a streak of smoke, slightly more silvery than gray, slowly widening as it fell like a cape. Where the bird it issued from was at in the sky, it couldn’t be too long ‘til it hit the ground.

Jordan stayed sitting, staring out the window-wall of the dealership– Jocelyn leapt up and ran to Rudy. He was speaking with a sales representative, in front of the kiosk.

The old man’d raised some eyebrows, buying a car whilst in a wheelchair, but made the excuse that it was for his “daughter”.

He was going for an older model, hoping that there was no tracker in it like with those “new fangled gas-savers”.

Jordan was on the brink of passing out again, no moose required. Maybe he was just imagining those traces of orange in the gas stuff?

Rudy wheeled back over, gazing through the same spot of window as Jordan. 

“It’ll be alright. We’ll clear the spread area before they even target this town,” Rudy eased.

“Not if this isn’t a rental,” Jocelyn piped. “Doesn’t it take time to get a whole new car?” 

Rudy smirked at her. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I’ve bought cars before– all you’ve got to do is spoil the seller a little, and it’ll be fifteen minutes max.”

He held up a silver credit card. Behind him, two men in suits rushed into a back room.

“‘Was also sure to get some change,” Rudy mumbled, his eyes flitting briefly up at the distant plane as he slipped the card into a recycling bin.

A few minutes later, the three had outfitted themselves in clothes from the building’s lost and found (to no protest from the proprietors), and wheeled out to find a classic Chevrolet Tahoe waiting for them, keys on the dash.

“Always talked about sports cars, when I was with the unit. They’ll never expect the epitome of soccer mom cars to be our getaway.”

—

Meanwhile, somewhere in Greece, Angosin places a hand on Geoul’s wide shoulder as the two stand in front of a church. Just by it is a graveyard. Amongst the stones, a small urn can be seen.

“In there, he’s all the answers you seek,” Angosin says in nearmost a whisper, holding a hand to the building.

Geoul purses up his lips and turns fully away from the building. His eyes are a tired pink.

—

Rudy gave Jocelyn directions, and she drove with decent ability along the snow-flanked and nigh-empty highway. Jordan was KO’ed in the back seat, but damn if every roadbump that jostled his legs didn’t wake him up.

He’d asked Rudy why he threw his card away. The old man’d reminded him of how far and deep this fagdations’s influence went; he’d withdrawn as much cash as he could from the local bank to pay for this ma-mobile, and had been sure to tell the dealer he was planning a trip in the opposite direction of where they were headed. They were playing an info-game now.

Jordan’d interrupted him near the end there: “Fuck, just get us to a hotel or something sooner than later, alright?”

—

The boy was a man now, but no less despondent.

Still, he spent entire days in the basement.

Whereas before he’d been happy to go on long road trips, as long as he was with friends;

he now couldn’t stand the company of others, and hadn’t left Oakville for many months.

The boy’d had a girl over, recently. It was of some relief to his family, but not him. Even when she’d teased him, prodding at just the right spots– she’d gotten nothing. He could not stop thinking about that one thing, that he couldn’t do now. No matter how badly he wanted it.

He’d only humored her advances to begin with because of something he’d read online. Apparently the presence of a girl, if you and her were viable as a sexual pairing, would spike your testosterone. It went without saying that this would do wonders for one’s gains. 

But– what was that worth, now? What did he lift for, if Zain was dead?

His parents, distant relatives, and two different therapists had told him this funk would melt off, given time.

But everything felt wrong in the world. How could that, a fact, ever just leave with time? The cunt who’d killed his girlfriend received funeral rites. He was treated like a human. As if that crystal sarcophagus had never been found.

Wait. Had it been found?

—

“All right,” Rudy said, squinting into the distance behind them as Jocelyn pulled into a gas station. “We should be out of the amnest-zone.”

“Amne-wha?” Jordan asked groggily.

“Amnesia gas, remember?” Jocelyn reminded, flatly.

Rudy turned to look at Jordan over the seat. “I meant the place that gas’ll be landing. Everyone there’s gonna forget– something or other. But, we’re out of it, and from here I’m pretty sure I can spot any upcoming foundation checkpoints before they turn into a problem.”

Jordan caught himself ignoring Rudy and sat up– as much as it hurt. Reluctantly, he saw that he was lucid enough now to do some much-needed evaluation.

The Foundation has world-spanning reach, and can wipe people’s memories. So they’re inescapable and invisible. Great.

But, this old man is telling his much younger female accomplice and you that he has a way out.

Is he in denial, or something?

But, he wasn’t in the mood for talking. What mattered is that he’d get some rest, soon– and maybe some antibacterial shit to cauterize the leg situation.

He doubted they were infected just yet– didn’t bacteria need heat to live?

It was all snow out there, as far as they drove. Jordan wondered why they hadn’t gotten a white car– they’d have no trouble with being seen, then.

“Don’t even kid about that, Jor, you saw how Rudy got all anxious leaving you guys out of his sight,” an extremely annoying voice chimed.

“He’d almost followed Jocelyn into the girl’s washroom when she changed, you saw that.”

Jordan looked into the snowbanks as they zipped by– he focused. Turns out ghosts have fucking reflections– hallucinations have reflections, that is.

“Well, I guess it’s no good trying to make you stop running, huh?” 

Not-Zain came to just above Jordan’s neck. Jordan didn’t look at him. He felt no heat, and still it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. A dark intensity hazed the apparition’s voice.

“Even if they, say, killed me, you wouldn’t do shit about it. Would you?”

Jordan saw his reflection cringe. Was this forever?

He might have to take up real, hard drugs.