Chapter 42: New Plans

Chapter 42: New Plans

Prudence sat on the sofa in the living room, knitting in front of the television. She hadn’t done any knitting or sewing in over a week, but her hands remembered what to do on their own. She watched her hands work, thinking gratefully, These are my hands. Not those awful hooves from her nightmare.

So far she had a square of blue yarn six inches wide. She didn’t know what the finished product would be. Spring would be here soon, so it didn’t seem practical to make a hat, scarf, or sweater. A coaster maybe, or a pillow. She didn’t care.

She looked around the living room at the dusty shelves and faded wallpaper. What about Mr. Pryde? He could use something new to brighten up the room. A new set of throw pillows for the couch might make it look as though someone still lived here.

The knitting fell from her fingers at this thought. Mr. Pryde was lying upstairs in a coma; what use did he have for throw pillows? He might never wake up again and she could only sit here playing with yarn. She couldn’t help Mr. Pryde or Mrs. Schulman or Samantha. What good was she to anyone?

Wendell came downstairs to find Prudence staring at a square of blue yarn in her hands. How long has she been like this? he wondered. What’s she thinking about? He didn’t know. Not even being a girl in his nightmare gave him any insight into the female mind. She could be thinking about Samantha or she could be reflecting on her nightmare or she could be thinking what a horrible mistake to have kissed him.

“Hello,” he said from the doorway. “I think I’ve come up with the potion we need.”

“You did? That’s wonderful,” she said, sounding more worried than excited about this discovery.

“I’m not sure if it’ll work,” he admitted. “There isn’t any time to test it. I can’t be sure what it’ll do, if it’ll do anything at all—”

Prudence crossed the room to silence him with a kiss. “It’ll work,” she said. “I trust you.”

From his pocket he took out two vials of an orange liquid. “There should be enough here to stop them. The hard part is they have to swallow it. I doubt they’ll do that on their own.”

“Maybe if we talk to Samantha we can convince her it’s for the best,” Prudence said. “There has to be some of her old self left in there.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We can’t take that chance, though. We’ll have to find some way to trap them.”

Prudence put an arm around his shoulders. She steered him towards the couch. “You look tired. Why don’t you take a nap to get your strength back?”

Wendell shook his head. He couldn’t sleep. Not until they had stopped Samantha and Joseph and put an end to this whole nasty business. Then he might be able to sleep without worrying he might wake up as a girl or possibly not at all. He didn’t have the strength to fight Prudence, though, as she sat him down on the sofa. Sitting down for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

She picked up her knitting, the metal needles clicking together as she worked. “I thought I’d make Mr. Pryde some new pillows. Doesn’t that seem silly?”

“No, of course not. I’m sure he’d like new pillows. He could take one out to his boat—” Wendell stopped as the pieces came together in his mind. “I’m such an idiot!”

“What? What is it?” she asked as he leapt off the couch and raced towards the door. She followed him out to Mr. Pryde’s truck, where he picked up a corner of fishing net. She understood at once what he was thinking. “That’s a great idea,” she said. She frowned then at a glaring flaw in the plan. “How are we going to get there to stop them?” she asked.

“I should think that would be obvious,” Wendell said. He patted the cab of the truck. “We drive. Or, to put it more accurately, you drive and I navigate.”

“Me? I can’t drive.”

“You already did, more or less.” He took her hands and smiled. “This time you’ll be able to use your hands to steer.”

“That was a dream, Wendell. It wasn’t real. I could get us both killed.” She shook her head and turned her back on the truck. “I can’t do it.”

“Prudence, we don’t have time to find someone else to drive us and even then, how could we explain this? We can’t tell a complete stranger we need a ride to Pinecrest to stop our friend from robbing a bank.”

“It’s too dangerous,” she said. She turned back to him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to risk losing you so soon. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened.”

“We have to do this. For Samantha and Mr. Pryde and Mrs. Schulman and all the others back in Eternity. Please, I know you can do it. I believe in you.”

Prudence looked down at the ground, realizing she’d carried the knitting with her. Back in the living room she had wished she could do something to help, to feel useful. This was her chance. “I’ll do it,” she said.

The interior of Mr. Pryde’s truck looked different from the driver’s seat. She touched the shifting knob, the steering wheel, and the pedals to familiarize herself with the controls. It’s just like in the dream, she thought. Except I’m not a pig and I don’t have Wendell hitting the pedals for me.

Wendell took the seat next to her, unfolding a map in his lap. From Prudence’s gasping and the sweat dripping down her face, he knew she hadn’t gotten over her fear of driving yet. “You’ll be fine,” he said. He reached across to take her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Here we go,” she whispered. She put the truck in reverse, backing down the driveway at a crawl. At the end of the driveway, she reached for a pedal, but hit the accelerator instead of the brake. The truck lurched backwards, the tail end smashing into a tree and the back wheels hanging over the edge of a ditch. “Oh no,” Prudence said.

She leaned over the steering wheel, unsure of what to do now. Wendell put a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. He shouldn’t have forced her to do this. He should have found a way to make it so he could reach the pedals by himself. A real man could see over the wheel and touch the pedals without a booster seat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is my fault. We’ll find some other way.”

Prudence looked up from the steering wheel. The sadness and self-loathing in his voice stirred something within her. “No,” she said. “I can do this.”

She shifted the truck into drive and then tapped the accelerator. The back tires tore at the edge of the ditch until finding purchase. Mr. Pryde’s truck lurched forward onto the road. Prudence steered it down the hill towards Mrs. Schulman’s house, keeping one foot poised over the brake and the other near the accelerator. The truck glided down the hill, mostly from the power of gravity, until it reached the bottom. Prudence looked in the rearview mirror to see Mr. Pryde’s house above them. “I did it,” she said.

“I knew you could,” Wendell said. He pecked her on the cheek before she hit the accelerator to send them on their way. She navigated the highway with relative ease, gradually going faster at the prodding of impatient vehicles behind them. Thinking back to her ride with Mrs. Schulman, Prudence flashed her middle finger to each car that passed them.

They coasted through Seabrooke, along the main street that was alive with people on the sidewalks like any other day. No one seemed to pay them any heed, not even the police officer they passed by a café. Prudence tensed at the sight of the policeman, but kept both hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead. Even after they passed by, she expected him to appear in the rearview mirror to arrest her. She didn’t relax until turning on the road leading inland towards Pinecrest.

We made it this far, she thought. Now if only they could find Samantha and Joseph and stop them before it was too late.