She dozed a little bit, but she woke up when the car jerked violently, veered, and she heard the tires squeal. She was still trying to understand what had happened when Oliver snapped, "Pull over."

"What?" Michael, in the glow of the dashboard, looked like a ghost, his eyes wide and his face tense. "You've never driven outside of Morganville. I have. Pull over. Vampire reflexes will put you into an accident, not save you from one. Humans can't react in the same way you can. It takes practice to drive safely around them on the open road." So Michael must have tried to dodge a car.Wow. Somehow, Claire had never considered that vampire reflexes could be a downside. Michael must have felt spooked enough to agree with Oliver, because he pulled the car off to the shoulder, gravel crunching under the tires, and got out. He and Oliver changed places. Oliver checked the car's mirrors with the ease of long practice, eased the car back on the road, and the whole thing settled into a steady, rolling rhythm. Claire looked over at the other two in the backseat. Eve had her headphones on and her eyes closed. Shane was sound asleep. It was ... peaceful, she supposed. She looked out at the night. There was a quarter moon, so it wasn't all that bright out, but the silver light gilded sand and spiky plants. Everything in the wash of the car's headlights was vivid; everything else was just shadows and smoke. It was like space travel, she decided. Every once in a while you could see an isolated house, far out in the middle of nowhere, with its lights blazing against the night. But mostly, they were out here alone. Oliver took a turn off the two-lane highway, heading for the interstate, she supposed. She didn't ask--not until they passed a road sign that had an arrow pointing to Dallas. The arrow pointed left. They headed straight on. "Hey," she said. "Hey, Oliver? I think you missed your turn."

"I don't need advice," Oliver said. "But the sign--"

"We have a stop to make," he said. "It won't take long."

"Wait, what? What stop?" It was news to Michael, apparently. That didn't ease the sudden anxiety in Claire's chest. "What's this about, Oliver?"

"Be still, all of you. It's none of your affair."

"Our car," Michael pointed out. "And we're in it. So it looks like it is our affair. Now, where are you taking us, and why?" Shane woke up, probably sensing the tension in Michael's voice. He blinked twice, swiped at his face, and leaned forward. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "We're getting hijacked." Shane sat up slowly, and Claire could feel the tension coiling in him. "Easy, all of you," Oliver said. "This is a directive from Amelie. There's a small issue I need to address. It won't take long." Eve, who'd removed one earphone, gave a jaw-cracking yawn. "I could stretch my legs," she said. "Also, bathroom would be good."

"What kind of small issue?" Shane asked. He was still tense, watchful, and not buying Oliver's no-big-deal attitude. Oliver's cold eyes fixed on him in the rearview mirror. "Nothing of consequence to you," he said. "And this isn't a debate. Shut up, all of you."

"Mikey?" Michael gazed at Oliver for a long few seconds before he finally said, "No, it's okay. A short stop would do us all good, probably."

"Depending on where," Shane said, but shrugged and sat back. "I'm cool if you are." Michael nodded. "We cool, Oliver?"

"I told you, it's not a debate."

"Four of us, one of you. Maybe it could be."

"Only if you want to answer to Amelie in the end." Michael said nothing. They drove on through the inky night, surrounded by a bubble of backwashed headlights, and finally a faded sign glowed green in the distance. Claire blinked and squinted at it. "`Durram, Texas,"' she read. "Is that where we're going?"

"More importantly, does it have an all-night truck stop?" Eve groaned. "Because I was serious about that bathroom thing. Really."

"Your bladder must be the size of a peanut," Shane said. "I think I see a sign up there." He did, and it was a truck stop--not big, not very clean, but open. It was crowded, too--six big rigs in the lot, and quite a few pickup trucks. Oliver took the exit and pulled off into the truck stop, edging the car to a halt at a gas pump. "Top off the tank," he told Michael. "Then park it and wait for me inside. I'll be back."

"Wait, when?"

"When I'm done. I'm sure you can find something to occupy yourselves." And then the driver's side door opened, and Oliver walked away. As soon as he was outside of the wash of the harsh overhead lights, he vanished. "We could just leave," Shane pointed out. "Fill up and drive off."

"And you think that's a good plan?"

"Actually? Not really. But it's a funny plan."

"Funny as in getting us killed. Some more than others, I might add."

"Fine, rub the resurrection in our faces. But seriously. Why are we doing this? We ditch Oliver; we never have to go back to Morganville. Think about it." Claire licked her lips and said, softly, "Not all of us can walk away, Shane. My parents are there. Eve's mom and brother. We can't just pick up and leave, not unless we want something bad to happen to them." He looked actually ashamed of himself, as if he'd really forgotten that. "I didn't mean--" He gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah, okay. I see your point."

"Added to that, I'm Amelie's blood now," Michael said. "She can find me if she wants me. If you want to include me in the great escape, I'm like a giant GPS tracking chip of woe."

"Whoa."

"Exactly." Eve said, plaintively, "Bathroom?" And that closed the discussion of running away. At least, for the moment.