Eddie Howlwood's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

By morning the green sap had crossed half the dashboard. Eddie touched it with one finger. It pulsed, warm and slow, like something breathing under the paint. The hot rod ran fast now, and it stopped clean. But the stain kept growing toward the pedals. Two days until the full moon. If the stuff reached the linkage mid-chase, the car would seize with the hunter on his tail. Eddie could not drive a dying machine. He went back to Jake Hazardapple's forge. Jake had built the axle that started all this. He stood over a glowing blade now, hammer in hand, red hair stuck to his forehead. He glanced at Eddie, then at the green smear on the dash through the open door. "That's orchard growth," Jake said. He set the hammer down. "It feeds on heat. Your engine's been feeding it since the crash. Burn it out or it takes the car." "Fire?" Eddie said. "Not fire. Fire spreads the spores." Jake crossed to a shelf and lifted a cluster of dark stones. They caught the light with a dull violet shine. "These kill cursed growth cold. Press them on the root of it. No heat, no spread." Eddie took the stones. They were cold as creek water. He found Mac Lanapple in his garage, bent over the half-finished album he never let anyone hear. Mac fixed things other men quit on. He had bled every brake line in this car without one question. Now he looked at the dashboard and the spreading green and said nothing for a long moment. "It's alive," Mac said. Not a question. "Jake says these stop it." Eddie held out the stones. "Cold. No fire." Mac took them. He ran his thumb over the sap, found the thickest knot near the cracked trunk mark. That was the root. He pressed a stone flat against it and held. The sap curled away from the stone. It shrank back along the dash, hissing soft, leaving dry gray streaks behind. Eddie pressed a second stone beside the first. The green pulled tight into one small mass, then stopped moving. The warmth under the paint went still. They worked it for an hour. Mac held each stone until its violet glow faded, then switched to a fresh one. Dead sap flaked off under his hand. By the time the last stone dimmed, the dashboard was clean. No pulse. No spread. Eddie started the engine. It ran smooth. The pedals moved free. He pressed the brake twice and felt it bite. "It's dead," Mac said. He set the spent stones on the seat. But as Eddie wiped the dry streaks away, he found something under the sap. A thin crack ran through the dash, deep into the frame beneath. The growth had been eating the metal while it spread. The car would run Friday. He did not know for how long after that.