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that up to driving the giant truck herself. It had been a trying day, without enough food or coffee to make up for the fluids lost in other pursuits, and aside from a few lingering thoughts of fucking this way or that, she wanted nothing more at that moment than to crawl into the clean sheets of a reasonable respectable motel and let sleep overtake her. For the last ten miles at least, she had been negotiating with herself over whether or not shutting just one eye for a few minutes might not help a little, and Beth knew that was never a good sign.
    “Hey,” she said and Brad turned suddenly, as if the sound of her voice had been as startling as a gunshot. “Let’s pull over at the next hotel you see. We’re not going to make this in one shot and I don’t think crashing this thing into a ditch will be doing the world any favors.”
    “Uh-huh,” Brad said.
    She frowned. “You know, Brad, I sincerely hope I don’t find you to be a complete bore absent any xeno-cryptological influences.”
    “What? No. I just… Driving trucks is fucking hard!”
    “Fair enough,” she said. “So pull over next chance you get and I’ll take my turn behind the wheel in the morning.”
    He nodded enthusiastically and said, “First chance I get.” Then he rolled down the window and slapped his face three or four times.
    Thankfully, they found a sign for a motel a few miles later.
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    They parked the truck in the farthest corner of the motel parking lot. This seemed an almost absurdly feeble precaution given the effects the object had had previously on the inhabitants of a neighborhood five miles away, but there was nothing else to be done about it. They were tired. And anyway, the influence of the object seemed to be on the wane. She currently was no hornier than she might have been on any spring day at the right time of the month and after a couple of glasses of wine. This was perfectly manageable.
    There was a moment at the front desk where she considered saving the government a little money by having her and Brad share a room, but the returning logical portion of her brain vetoed that. They got separate rooms several doors apart from each other.
    Brad looked disappointed. It was possible that the same unprofessional idea had crossed his mind as well.
    The motel itself was nothing that would inspire romantic aspirations on its own. There were cobwebs sagging in the corners of the lobby and the manager who gave them their respective room keys smelled strongly of Old Spice and cough medicine. He was a small and sweaty man with a T-shirt that may have started out white several years ago but had been made something less so by years of bad water and off-brand detergent. There was something both weak-willed and infinitely sleazy about the man, and the fact that he did not have one hand shoved down his pants when they entered the lobby struck Beth as further evidence that whatever strange powers the object in the truck might possess, they were currently dormant.
    Good. We could all use a little sleep.
    She left Brad at the door of his room and entered her own. Inside it smelled of a certain cheap dampness, but the mattress seemed more or less acceptable and the bathtub was clean and long enough to stretch out in. She started the water for a bath. All H, no C.
    There was a knock at the door. She answered to find Brad standing there. He had a bottle of wine in his hand.
    “We’re off duty, right?” he said.
    “Sort of. That wasn’t in the glove compartment.”
    “I bought it off the manager. I’m actually surprised it didn’t come in a carton.”
    She stood back to let him in. It had not been her plan, but a glass of wine didn’t sound half bad. Also she was pleased to realize that even without the obvious influence of alien forces, she rather liked Brad’s company. For a second, she studied his face. Strong and handsome, she knew, but now, with the benefit of a clearer mind, there was something else