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with you?”
    “I’m safe. Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.”
    She hung up on his next question and looked back over at the cop. Late night on the highway with a cop. This would make a good porno flick. Officer, I’ll do anything to get out of a ticket. Just anything.
    “Ma’am, I’m going to let you go with a warning. You pay attention to the speedometer from now on, not the vibrations of the car, okay? And you get yourself home or check into a motel if you don’t feel safe, understand? This is a dark stretch of highway to be on at night.”
    He stepped away from the window.
    “Yes, officer. Thank you.”
    He turned and started back to his car. Jenna watched him. She stuck her head out the window and called out.
    “Officer? Are you sure you don’t want a box of mints? They’re good.”
    He stopped and turned. He had a pretty profile and a pretty smile. His name was McMillan. His name tag said it. He shook his head.
    “No, ma’am, but thanks for the offer.”
    He got into his car and turned off the flashing blue lights. Jenna shifted into drive and pulled back out onto the road. The phone rang again. She didn’t answer it, but when it stopped ringing, she imagined a computer-generated voice that picked up.
    “We’re sorry, the cellular phone customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. You may leave a message by pressing one . . . now.”

Chapter 6
    S HE GOT OFF THE FREEWAY IN BELLINGHAM FEELING TIRED and hungry. She pulled into a gas station to get some fuel for the Machine, and she picked up some Corn Nuts and a Coke—fuel for herself. This trip suddenly had the feeling of an all-night drive. Standing under a canopy of fluorescent bulbs. Artificial sunlight. Electrified reality. Everyone would be asleep if they weren’t plugged in.
    Jenna inhaled the heady fumes as she watched the numbers tick by. There’s something about the smell of gasoline that’s comforting. Maybe it’s that gas always smells the same, no matter where it is. Or maybe it’s that the smell of gasoline represents man conquering nature. Digging deep down into the crust of the earth, pumping black goo up to the surface, cooking it in aluminum containers so it can be used in a BMW. The evolution of Man smells like gasoline.
    It was two thirty and Jenna headed into downtown Bellingham not really knowing what her next move would be. Home or a Days Inn? As if to answer her question, signs directed her toward the waterfront. It was a running theme. Brand-new blue signs telling everyone that they would find what they wanted at the waterfront. So, Jenna followed the signs, finally pulling over on Harris Avenue, about a block away from her assigned goal. She could see that there was some life on the piers; there’s always life on a waterfront. Boats coming and going, loading and unloading. But she didn’t go any closer. Not because she didn’t want to. She definitely wanted to explore the waterfront. See what all the signs were talking about. But she was a little afraid to wander around down there by herself. She would have to wait for morning to explore.
    She reclined the seat a bit, opened the Coke and the Corn Nuts, and laughed to herself. So this is the road trip you never took?
    You’re supposed to do this in college. Get in a car and drive. Sleep in the car, eat junk food. Jenna felt a little young to be recapturing the lost moments of her youth.
    Her eyes got heavy and she yawned. A street sign in front of the car pointed straight ahead to the Alaska State Marine Highway, the ferry system that connected Alaska with the lower forty-eight states. Jenna had forgotten it was in Bellingham. Gram used to take the Alaska State Marine Highway back when it left from Seattle. A blue ferry with the Alaskan flag on the smokestack—the Big Dipper and the North Star. The Columbia was the name of one of them. Gram would sit in a big chair in the lounge for the three-day trip. She loved it. She would talk to people nonstop, making new