Read Online Hope and Undead Elvis by Ian Thomas Healy - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian Thomas Healy
Tags: apocalypse, allegory, hope, redemption, elvis, graceland, Savior, religious symbolism, virgin pregnancy, mother mary
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swallowed hard and then yawned to try to clear them. She let up on the accelerator for a moment and The Way slowed. "Feel that? I think we're going uphill."
"Sure seems like it."
"What do you think we'll find?"
"The top."
Hope rolled her eyes. "Funny man."
What they found, it turned out, was a bridge.
Chapter Nine
Hope and the Bridge
At one point, the bridge would have crossed a canyon lined by rocks in a thousand shades of red from pale salmon to dark cherry. The central span had collapsed, leaving only the steel ramps and miscellaneous torn support structure on either side of the chasm.
Hope shut off The Way and got out. Undead Elvis followed her to the cliff edge and they looked into the canyon in silence. The air was cooler than it had been amid the sands, but as still as ever. The unmoving sun beating down upon them was tolerable instead of miserable. The myriad colors in the rocks felt like a vacation for Hope's eyes after the unending golden blur of the desert below.
A pale stripe along the canyon floor, hundreds of feet below, suggested whatever river had carved such a gash in the world had dried up to leave only more sand behind. Hope toed a small rock over the edge. It clattered down the face, dislodging a few pebbles along the way. She watched it fall until she lost sight of it.
Hope said, "When I was a kid, my mom took me to the Grand Canyon. I remember standing with my face pressed against a guard rail, looking down into it, and thinking that giants must have made it because nothing else could make such a deep hole. It might have been ten times as deep and wide as this. It was beautiful. This one here just breaks my heart." She looked over at the broken bridge. "What do we do now?"
" Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. "
"What does that mean?"
"Just a line from a poem. Seemed like an apt metaphor for our situation, Li'l lady."
"I don't need a metaphor, Elvis, I need a bridge. What do we do now? We can't go along the edge looking for another way across. This could go on for hundreds of miles, and The Way can't drive along that edge." She motioned to the jagged rocks that made up the landscape to either side of the road.
"We could go back and try to find another way."
"What if there isn't one?"
"What if there is?"
Hope stamped her foot. "You're not helping. We were lucky to find this road at all. Which way is Graceland?"
Undead Elvis pointed toward the far side of the canyon.
"Then that's the way we need to go. Somehow." She yawned so hard she thought she might split her head in two. "God, I'm so tired, I can't think. Will you watch me, Elvis? Watch me while I sleep?"
"Of course."
They found a protruding rock behind which lay a narrow strip of shade. Hope didn't mind the rough ground in the least as she flung herself down into the shadow. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, taking comfort from the fetal position. She fell asleep in between the inhalation and exhalation of her first deep breath.
Some time later, Hope opened her eyes. She had a terrible kink in her neck from the odd angle she'd held it in her sleep. Her back likewise felt like it had been remade from shattered glass. Nausea tickled in the pit of her stomach, and if she hadn't passed out before eating, she'd have vomited. She suffered through a couple of retches and spat against the rock before she felt human enough to move herself into a seated position.
Undead Elvis sat with his back to her, legs crossed in front of him and wrists wresting upon his knees. He almost looked like he was meditating.
"Hey." Hope brushed sleep-stiffened hair from her face. "What are you doing?"
"I wish I had a guitar," he said. "I can think better when I've got one in my hands."
"Maybe we'll find one."
"Maybe."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Graceland."
"What's it like?"
"It's beautiful. Green grass. Tall trees. Lush gardens. Fieldstone walls and fences, wrought iron, and white columns.
"Sure seems like it."
"What do you think we'll find?"
"The top."
Hope rolled her eyes. "Funny man."
What they found, it turned out, was a bridge.
Chapter Nine
Hope and the Bridge
At one point, the bridge would have crossed a canyon lined by rocks in a thousand shades of red from pale salmon to dark cherry. The central span had collapsed, leaving only the steel ramps and miscellaneous torn support structure on either side of the chasm.
Hope shut off The Way and got out. Undead Elvis followed her to the cliff edge and they looked into the canyon in silence. The air was cooler than it had been amid the sands, but as still as ever. The unmoving sun beating down upon them was tolerable instead of miserable. The myriad colors in the rocks felt like a vacation for Hope's eyes after the unending golden blur of the desert below.
A pale stripe along the canyon floor, hundreds of feet below, suggested whatever river had carved such a gash in the world had dried up to leave only more sand behind. Hope toed a small rock over the edge. It clattered down the face, dislodging a few pebbles along the way. She watched it fall until she lost sight of it.
Hope said, "When I was a kid, my mom took me to the Grand Canyon. I remember standing with my face pressed against a guard rail, looking down into it, and thinking that giants must have made it because nothing else could make such a deep hole. It might have been ten times as deep and wide as this. It was beautiful. This one here just breaks my heart." She looked over at the broken bridge. "What do we do now?"
" Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. "
"What does that mean?"
"Just a line from a poem. Seemed like an apt metaphor for our situation, Li'l lady."
"I don't need a metaphor, Elvis, I need a bridge. What do we do now? We can't go along the edge looking for another way across. This could go on for hundreds of miles, and The Way can't drive along that edge." She motioned to the jagged rocks that made up the landscape to either side of the road.
"We could go back and try to find another way."
"What if there isn't one?"
"What if there is?"
Hope stamped her foot. "You're not helping. We were lucky to find this road at all. Which way is Graceland?"
Undead Elvis pointed toward the far side of the canyon.
"Then that's the way we need to go. Somehow." She yawned so hard she thought she might split her head in two. "God, I'm so tired, I can't think. Will you watch me, Elvis? Watch me while I sleep?"
"Of course."
They found a protruding rock behind which lay a narrow strip of shade. Hope didn't mind the rough ground in the least as she flung herself down into the shadow. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, taking comfort from the fetal position. She fell asleep in between the inhalation and exhalation of her first deep breath.
Some time later, Hope opened her eyes. She had a terrible kink in her neck from the odd angle she'd held it in her sleep. Her back likewise felt like it had been remade from shattered glass. Nausea tickled in the pit of her stomach, and if she hadn't passed out before eating, she'd have vomited. She suffered through a couple of retches and spat against the rock before she felt human enough to move herself into a seated position.
Undead Elvis sat with his back to her, legs crossed in front of him and wrists wresting upon his knees. He almost looked like he was meditating.
"Hey." Hope brushed sleep-stiffened hair from her face. "What are you doing?"
"I wish I had a guitar," he said. "I can think better when I've got one in my hands."
"Maybe we'll find one."
"Maybe."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Graceland."
"What's it like?"
"It's beautiful. Green grass. Tall trees. Lush gardens. Fieldstone walls and fences, wrought iron, and white columns.
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