Bitch: Transformation

Tank couldn’t seem to find a comfortable place to be. He wanted to be close to Red, but that meant being too close to Apoc, or closer than he wanted to be. So he settled somehow on having his hind end on the front passenger chair, and his front legs on the floor so he could nose Red’s side. He looked at me fearfully from time to time. I think he would have tried to climb into Red’s lap if he thought he could get away with it.

Red squinted ahead at the darkened road. I could still smell the smoke of the lab on him. I wondered what had happened while I slept in the lab. I wanted to ask, but still felt strangely fuzzy, my head too heavy for my neck. I breathed Red in again. He was calming down, and there was a note of sadness. Who knew salt had a such a mournful smell?

I crawled onto the floor and looked into the third row of seats and watched the gentle rise and fall of Apoc’s furry ribs. When I had assured myself that Apoc would still be breathing in a few hours, I squeezed back into the second row seat, and after some careful positioning of the seat belt buckles I lay down and just let the thrumming of the tires carry me off to sleep. No more dreams I hoped.