Chapter 70

December Twenty-fifth 9:00 p.m. EST

The Pennsylvania Turnpike was more desolate than Tom would have believed possible only the day before. One lane in each direction had been completely cleared during the day and reflective pylons had been placed to warn travelers of the few bullet riddled cars that remained in the others. Nevertheless, they had only passed one working vehicle, a flatbed tow-truck heading in the other direction, during the past ninety miles. Adding to the sense of isolation was the fact that where once the lights of towns and small cities had twinkled like stars among the hills, there was now only unrelenting darkness.

His skill at handling the bike was slowly growing, but he still lacked the confidence to even approach the posted speed limit, regardless of the urgency of their mission or the current irrelevancy of the motor vehicle code. Proving that his lack of confidence was justified, the Yamaha swerved onto the berm and almost toppled over when Mia's hands reached into his coat to caress his chest and stomach.

He shook his head ruefully. Through their bond he had felt her become increasingly aroused by the large engine that thrummed and vibrated between their legs. He failed to see the attraction, finding the sensation more numbing than pleasant.

She tweaked one of his nipples through his shirt. "I saw a sign for a rest stop ahead. Any chance we could pull over?"

He nodded and took the exit less than a mile later. Unsurprisingly, the South Midway plaza was dark and empty except for the usual litter of Sbarro bags and Starbucks cups. He brought the bike to a stop near a picnic and dog walking area.

"What's up, my love? I know you don't have to pee," he said as he pulled off his helmet.

She kissed the nape of his neck. "I was thinking that it would be nice to make love to my husband one last time before we reach hostile territory."

He let out a surprised laugh. "I know you really liked riding on the bike, but, just in case you forgot, we are on a mission to save the world, or at least our part of it."

A wave of melancholy passed from her mind to his. "I'm guessing that you didn't take a peek at Denny's thoughts."

"No. I'm not very good at it, and, when I do succeed, I usually don't like what I find."

"You wouldn't have liked what was in his head much either. Our so-called-mission is a sham. While everything Denny told us was technically true, no one actually believes that the President is still alive. Surely you noticed that he didn't give us any instructions concerning where we're supposed to take the President once we've found him."

He pursed his lips in confusion. "Then why send us?"

Her arms wrapped around him in a comforting hug. "We're vampires. I know you felt the fear and even hatred every time anyone looked at us. They wanted us as far away from the city as they could get us."

He sputtered with indignation. "That can't be it. I worked with Denny for almost twenty years. While I wouldn't exactly call us bosom buddies, we did respect each other and were at least on friendly terms."

"Which is probably why we weren't pincushioned with arrows and staked through the heart the moment Larry dropped us off. Look at it from their perspective, sweetheart. All over the country, their colleagues, most of whom were good, honorable men, were turned against the people they were supposed to protect. Why wouldn't they suspect that we were just waiting for an opportunity to do the same to them?"

"Because we're not controlled by whoever is doing this..."

She gave him a gentle squeeze. "On an intellectual level, some of them may know about the bonds of compulsion between master and fledgling. A few of those may even take the time to think things through enough to realize that everything that happened is likely the work of one or two vampires who are controlling thousands of unwilling slaves. But the bond isn't something that they can see, or touch, or measure with a machine. The only proof we have that we're not part of what's going on is our word and, because we're vampires, that's not worth much."

"So why did Denny give us the sword?"

"Because he does like and respect you and wants you to have a fighting chance against whatever is waiting for us in Washington. Besides, even in the unlikely event that he has someone available who knows how to use one, what good would one sword do against the tens of thousands of vampires that have overrun the country? The fact is that it's of no real use to him and, if we were playing for the other team, it wouldn't help us against a bunch of people with bows, arrows and machine guns. At the worst, he loses an item of no practical value. At best, we do a lot better job of thinning the ranks of those holding the capital than we would without it."

Tom jumped off the motorcycle and paced back and forth, wringing his hands anxiously. "So what should we do? We can't abandon Dana and run off to hide..."

Mia watched him fret with a small, affectionate smile. "Of course not. We have to do exactly what Denny asked us to."

He came to a stop and turned to stare at her. "Why? If the mission's fake..."

"You know the answer to that. If we're going to have any place in the world after this is over, a place to live and raise a family, we have to earn their trust. We have to prove that we, at least, are different. I can't think of a better way to do that then by going into D.C., finding the President, and either bringing him out alive or learning who is behind this and what they are after."