Corby switched to a higher gear; it was going to be a long flight from New York to Egypt…
He petted the old Buick on its dashboard. Despite everything he'd already put it through, he was going to need it to get it together one more time. One last time maybe. It had a semi-nuclear cold-fusion reactor under its hood. It was going to do fine! It'd already done better than it should have; better than any of the modern-day vehicles, that's for sure. It was going to make it. Corby was willing to bet their lives on it. The Buick was going to take them to Egypt. Only…it wasn't going to be very fast.
He leaned back. He wasn't in any hurry. It was about time he took a breather anyway. He needed to think things through. He punched a combo of keys on his computer to, firstly, block any outgoing GPS signals and, secondly, to make the Buick virtually invisible in the airspace. To allow them to find them here, in the middle of the Atlantic, would have been ill-advised. The last thing he wanted was for General Monroe to track him down. He pulled the earpiece from his ear canal. He was itching to do it for so long. Looking down at it, he realized how much it sucked. Was probably why the government loved them.
He slid open the side window and tossed it outside, glad to finally part with it. For good now. It was going to find its final resting place somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic.
"They're not going to find us now," he said to the boy but he was sleeping on a pile of empty McDonald's takeout boxes and wasn't listening. Corby frowned; he'd been meaning to clean it out. Over the past couple of weeks, he managed to make a mess out of his old Buick. The boy didn't seem to mind though. He looked all cozy and tucked in, resting peacefully. In the cramped backseat of Corby's run-down car, he slept like a baby for whatever reason. Maybe it was because he was a baby, in a way. But Corby preferred not to think of it.
He looked him up and down and his lips curved in a smile. He was going to let him sleep. He'd been through enough in one day already. His hair was clumped. It lay in thick strands on a detached headrest cushion he used as a pillow. There were bruises all over his body and some of the thermobandages he was wearing had gotten torn. And even though they covered very little of his body, the more Corby looked at him the more he thought they covered too much. It was more than what he was wearing the night they met anyway. Corby grinned stupidly, remembering that night. Damn, he looked fine! Just thinking about it gave him a raging–
He stopped himself at once. He made himself turn away and stop looking at the boy. Thinking about him in that way was getting intense so it was probably better he stopped thinking about him. It wasn't what he should have been doing right now anyway. Unfortunately, at the moment, there wasn't much else to do. He pursed his lips. He pawed through the trash on the passenger seat and found himself a half-finished candy bar still in its wrapper. He munched on it vehemently just to pass the time. Whatever was raging in his pants earlier calmed down.
While he chewed, his gaze traveled involuntarily back to the boy, his body that Corby was trying hard not to look at. The body that already seemed so familiar even though they'd only just met. Corby hadn't gotten laid in several months now and was becoming increasingly aware of it. But it wasn't the boy's problem, of course. Which was why he made himself turn away again. To avoid looking at him altogether. His body and all. It was probably best he didn't look.
When he was done with the chocolate bar, he washed it down with some leftover soda. And then he used an empty cup to pee. The cup was biodegradable, so out the window it went. Now that he was done taking care of his bodily needs, he slouched back in his seat to maybe try and catch some z's. He realized fairly quickly though that sleep wouldn't come easy to him. He was restless, fidgety. His mind was wound up. His entire body was reeling. And it wasn't just about sex. It went deeper than that, beyond what he could solve by simply touching his penis.
And what was pissing him off the most was that nobody seemed to know who the boy actually was and where he came from. The question really bothered Corby. The priest said he was perfect but what did it have to do with anything? He said there was something he was destined to do. If only Corby remembered what it was. He figured, must have been some kind of mission. Was that why they were going to Egypt? It made zero sense. Corby shook his head. Why did the boy end up in New York if he was going to Egypt? And how was Corby supposed to help him if he didn't even know what he was supposed to do? He didn't like being kept in the dark, that's for sure. General Monroe kept him in the dark half of his life and it didn't end well. It reminded him she also offered him some kind of mission. But he brushed it off. He wasn't interested in any of her missions. Or anybody else's, for that matter. What he was interested in right now was how he could help the boy.
And if he didn't know what the mission was, he guessed he could just approach it on a step-by-step basis. One step at a time. Thus, firstly, he needed to take the boy to Egypt. Because that was what he asked him to do. And once they'd reached Egypt, maybe he'd know more. It was what usually happened to him upon his arrival at whatever destination point anyway–things started to reveal themselves. One thing was clear though, whatever the boy told him to do–he'd do it! No questions asked. He wasn't in any denial about it. Yes, he was crushing on him that bad…
He glanced back at him. His lips stretched in a stupid smile again. Pretty much anything he'd do for him. And if General Monroe and the government and the dog-faced all wanted him, they were going to have to go through him first. He was going to protect him from them all.