“Pull over,” I told him. “It’s my turn to drive. You need
sleep.”
“I’m fine,” he argued, rubbing his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep
anyway, not knowing what’s back there.”
I didn’t blame him. I’d dozed off but was woken with
horrible dreams mixed with memories.
“You can’t keep driving. You’re swerving all over the road.
Pull over. It’ll take ten seconds to swap seats.”
He seemed to weight whether that was fast enough, whether
the risk of his driving was worse than the risk of losing ten seconds.
“We’re going to have to get gas soon anyway. We can’t keep
going like this.”
“The hell we can’t.” He did pull over, braking hard. I
braced myself on the dash. “Move.” He ordered, jumping out the driver’s door.
I didn’t hesitate, leaping over the hood and sliding in the
door. It was like something out of Dukes of Hazard, and I couldn’t believe I
pulled it off. However, I was in the seat ahead of Max and popping it in drive
as soon as his door closed.
“We can get gas in the mountains,” I said, nodding my head
toward them. “They’ll freeze up there.”
“Mountains. Freezing. Good.” His eyes closed.
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