That’s the reason Foghorn tried convincing himself of why he wasn't feeling right about things, anyway. But deep down, he knew otherwise.
It wasn’t the auto-drive.
It wasn’t the dead body in the trunk.
It wasn’t the conniving weasel from Bikini sitting next to him.
It wasn’t even the mysterious phone call from a guy named Walter on L-Pain’s phone.
Each of those would have been acceptable reasons to feel at odds most days. But on this day, the reason for his uneasiness was far more sinister.
It was the crows.
“We gotta get off the highway.” Foghorn yanks the auto-drive adapter's power cord from the dashboard of the Cutlass. “We’re being followed.”
“What? Impossible,” Thom says, craning his neck to look into the passenger side rearview mirror. “There was only one way in and one way outta that place, and we were as deep as a vehicle can get.”
“They’re all around us.”
“Around us? Who’s following us? Which cars?”
“Not fucking cars!”
Thom turns and looks at him. “Hey now, I know a lot’s gone on today. A lot to take in, you know. But we’re in this together, ok? I think your mind might be a bit overwhelmed is all. I know mine is.” Thom grabs the power cord for the auto-drive and motions to plug it back in. “Let’s just get back on the lattice and let it coast us into Sacramento.”
Foghorn rips the auto-drive from Thom’s hand. “We can’t fucking go to Sacramento!”
“Hey, man, we’re in this together, remember? You gotta tell me what’s going on.”
“The crows. Jesus Christ. All the crows.” Foghorn motions in all directions, looking all around. “Don’t you see them? All the fuckin’ crows!”
Thom looks out the windows and sees only the dry landscape buffering each side of the I-5 and a bare, blue sky. He doesn’t see any crows or any birds anywhere. “Listen, Fogman. Let’s just stick to the plan. It’s been a long …”
Foghorn cuts him off. “She’s following us! Don’t you fucking see?”
“She? Who? The Green-Eyed Woman?” Thom shakes his head and placesa hand on Foghorn’s shoulder. “That’s a good thing, man. That’s who we're trying to reach. Let’s just take the next exit and let her have the body.”
Foghorn grabs Thom’s arm and shoves it off him then slams his foot down hard on the accelerator, and the Cutlass responds.
Thom places his hands on the dash. “Slow down, man! What are you doing?”
“Don’t you get it? Don’t you fucking get it?”
“Get what? Get what?”
Foghorn whips his head to look at Thom, his eyes bulging in disbelief that Thom could be so stupid. “Don’t you see?” Foghorn waves a hand around again then yanks a fistful of his own hair. “It’s the fucking girl!”
