“Give me one of those,” Alan said.
She lit another and put it between his lips, damp with her saliva. His skin came up in goosepimples.
“Who knows about your wings?” he said.
“Krishna knows,” she said. “And you.” She looked out into the night. “The family in Oakville. If I could remember where they lived, I’d look them up and ask them about it. Can’t. Can’t remember their names or their faces. I remember the pool, though, and the barbecue.”
“No one else knows?”
“There was no one else before Krishna. No one that I remember, anyway.”
“I have a brother,” he said, then swallowed hard. “I have a brother named Brad. He can see the future.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pawed around for an ashtray and discovered that it had been removed, along with the lighter, from the rental car’s dashboard. Cursing, he pinched off the coal of the cigarette and flicked it to the roadside, hoping that it would burn out quickly, then he tossed the butt over his shoulder at the back seat. As he did, the body in the trunk rolled while he navigated a curve in the road and he braked hard, getting the car stopped in time for him to open the door and pitch a rush of vomit onto the roadway.
“You okay to drive?”