Free Amnesia Moon by Jonathan Lethem Page B

won’t be alone. That state has its head up its rear end. It’s an epidemic. You sure you want to leave? There’s plenty of head space right here, if that’s what you’re looking for. More than enough Strip to go around.”
    â€œThanks,” said Chaos. “But I’m curious to see what else is going on.”
    â€œThat’s cool, that’s cool,” said Boyd quickly, nervously. “I’m just saying we got plenty of stuff to go around here, and so what’s the hurry?” He glanced agitatedly at Melinda. “Because the one thing we’re short on is
chicks.
So why not stay a few days at least?”
    â€œNo,” said Chaos. He swung the door open and Melinda scooted in, past the steering wheel, to the passenger seat. “We’re moving on.”
    â€œThat’s cool,” said Boyd, turning away. “Take it easy, man.”

 
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    They loaded up the backseat with cans and bottled water from a demolished grocery store, then drove on through the mountains. The first night they pulled over and slept in the car, but Chaos woke after a few hours, the moon still up, Melinda asleep beside him, and without waking her he started the car and got back on the road. He was practiced at avoiding sleep from all his years dodging Kellogg’s dreams, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep when he wanted to. He took Boyd’s advice and stayed on the highway through Utah, and by the time night fell again, they were across the state line, into Nevada. He slept, but lightly, for five or six hours, then pushed on.
    They spoke little, Melinda seemingly content to gaze out the side window, just as he was pretty much content to watch the asphalt roll away in front of the car. The mood between them was anticipatory, as though, a destination having been set, there was nothing left to do but get there. He didn’t ask what she knew about California, or whether she’d even heard the name before. He did ask once if she missed her parents, breaking an afternoon’s silence, and she said no, and then half an hour later they argued about nothing, and sulked, and he understood that she wanted him to treat her like an adult. So he withdrew into himself and enjoyed the space and silence, two tastes he’d cultivated back in Hatfork. He still didn’t know how old she was, but he guessed thirteen.
    Both nights he dreamed of the house by the lake. The first night he talked to the computer, which insisted on calling him Everett and on discussing the question of what he did and didn’t remember. It told him that the woman he missed was named Gwen.
    The next night he met Gwen. They were in a darkened room together, and he felt her beside him, touched her hands and face. They spoke intimately, though after he woke, he couldn’t remember any of what was said.
    The dreams seemed designed, either by the computer or by some part of his sleeping self, to nudge him towards speculations about his life before. They succeeded in that, but they confused him too. He suspected that some of it was just dreams, not actual memories. Anyway, he’d learned by now to distrust dreams and memories both. Both could be inauthentic. But he believed in Gwen. The short time with her had left a pulse in him, a sense of something long-buried but stirring in the murk, rising to the surface.
    If the new dreams had any effect on Melinda, she kept it to herself.
    Nevada was different, all casinos and advertising. Some of the billboards had been cryptically altered, words blotted out with white and graphics repainted, and others had just been mutilated. Some towns looked dead, at least from the highway, and some looked active; Chaos let them all pass, never even slowing the car. Soon enough he was back in the desert.
    Late afternoon on the third day, fifty miles outside Reno, they heard a roar in the sky, and a moment later two aircraft came into view. They were unmarked craft,