chapter 5

The shift from the humid green of the Midwest to the vast, dry expanse of the Arizona desert was like stepping onto another planet. For Remy, it was pure magic. For Theo, it was a tactical nightmare. The endless sky, dotted with a million stars, whispered of cosmic wonders to Remy. To Theo, it screamed "no cover, no concealment, easy target." He swore he could feel every mile of open road exposing them, a massive, gleaming RV a beacon for anyone looking.

Remy, however, was thriving. She'd spent the last few days in a state of giddy anticipation, her long blonde hair a wild halo as she poured over cheap UFO conspiracy books bought at a truck stop.

"Okay, Theo, so, theories!" she'd announced one morning, bursting into the RV's pristine kitchen while he was attempting to make espresso. "Do you think they're benevolent overlords here to guide us, or just really advanced tourists who ran out of gas?"

Theo, meticulously tamping coffee grounds, hadn't even looked up. "They don't exist, Remy. And if they did, they wouldn't be interested in your theories. They'd be here for resources, and they'd eliminate resistance. Like any rational entity with power."

Remy snorted. "You really do think like a villain, don't you? What a buzzkill. Anyway, we're almost there! Roswell, baby!"

His frustration was a constant hum beneath his skin. He was a man of control, of precise, calculated moves. Remy was chaos incarnate. She hummed off-key while he ran through escape scenarios in his head. She pointed out interesting rock formations while he scanned the empty horizon for a familiar vehicle. He'd woken up that morning with a vague sense of unease, a prickle on the back of his neck. They were being watched, he was sure of it. But where, in this immense, empty landscape?

Their destination was a small town, barely more than a cluster of buildings, that proudly declared itself "The Extraterrestrial Gateway." Remy literally skipped into the main street, which was a bizarre carnival of alien-themed gift shops, a diner shaped like a flying saucer, and a motley crew of locals and tourists dressed in various degrees of alien regalia.

"Oh, this is my people!" Remy declared, pulling Theo towards a shop displaying glow-in-the-dark alien bobbleheads. "Look! It's so tacky, it loops back around to being art!"

Theo, in his usual dark, expensive clothing, looked like he'd been teleported from a high-stakes board meeting into a very strange fever dream. He remained a silent, imposing figure by the RV's side, his dark grey eyes sweeping the street, analyzing every face. He noticed the casual way people lingered, the cars parked a little too perfectly. He felt the familiar weight of being observed, even amidst the cheerful absurdity.

Remy, meanwhile, was completely immersed. She was haggling fiercely with a vendor over a six-fingered alien puppet. "Look, sir, I understand the craftsmanship, but his eyes are a little too far apart. It's unsettling. Can we do three dollars and a half-eaten bag of artisanal beef jerky?"

Just as Theo spotted a familiar, cold glint in the eyes of a man pretending to adjust a tire on a black pickup across the street, Remy shrieked. Not a shriek of fear, but of triumph.

"I got it!" she declared, snatching the puppet. But in her excitement, she spun around, her long blonde hair whipping out, accidentally snagging a stack of precarious alien-themed cookie jars. They crashed to the pavement with a ceramic symphony of shattering glass and frustrated groans from the shop owner.

"Oh, whoopsie!" Remy giggled, genuinely apologetic, as a small crowd gathered, drawn by the noise.

Theo, however, saw his chance. The crash, the commotion, Remy's unapologetic chaos – it was the perfect, absurd diversion. The man across the street, startled by the sudden noise, glanced towards the commotion, his attention momentarily diverted from Theo.

"Now!" Theo hissed, grabbing Remy by the arm, his fingers surprisingly tight.

"Hey! My puppet!" Remy protested, trying to retrieve the six-fingered alien amidst the broken pottery.

Theo didn't give her a choice. He practically dragged her through the gawking crowd, past the fuming shop owner, towards the RV. He shoved her into the passenger seat, his face grim.

"They're here. The ones looking for me."

He threw the RV into reverse, the massive vehicle screeching tires as it spun out of the parking lot. The black pickup truck, its passenger now alert, peeled out behind them.

"Oh," Remy said, her eyes wide as she looked in the side mirror at the pursuing vehicle. "Not little green men. Just regular, grumpy men with a really clean truck. That's so disappointing."

Theo gripped the steering wheel, a string of fluent Italian curses vibrating the RV. "Disappointing?! This is a fucking nightmare!"

The chase was absurd. A luxury land yacht barreling down a dusty desert road, pursued by a sleek pickup. Theo, a master of evasive driving in city streets, found himself wrestling the RV's sheer bulk through turns, kicking up massive dust clouds. Remy, meanwhile, was surprisingly calm.

"Go, Theo, go!" she cheered, as if he were in a video game. "Cut left! Use the sun as a weapon! Oh, they're losing you! You're like a really angry, well-dressed rhino!"

His exasperation was almost a physical weight. But her odd commentary, her complete lack of fear, was also… disarming. It broke through the adrenaline, made the absurd reality of his situation even more jarring. He swerved again, noticing a police car parked up ahead. The pickup hesitated as they saw the police car and made a turn instead of following.

Theo slammed his fist on the steering wheel, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Dio mio, Remy, what in the hell was that?!"

Remy, however, was already pulling out her phone. "Oh, the usual unknown number," she sighed, hitting 'ignore.' She glanced at Theo, his face a mask of fury and exhaustion. "I think you need a hug, Theo. Or maybe a really good espresso. That was a lot of physical activity for a mafia boss."

Theo just stared at her, then at the phone, then back at her. Her cheerfulness, her almost willful ignorance of the real danger, baffled him. He saw the subtle tension around her mouth when she dismissed those calls. He knew, with a certainty that gnawed at him, that she had her own secrets. Something she was running from. He just couldn't figure out what it was. And he was a man who always figured things out.