The helicopter buzzing around the estate like a mechanical bumblebee was actually a news chopper. Unbeknownst to Lexi or Glen, Eddie had gotten friends to monitor the police bands along I-80, and he’d called several news agencies as soon as the chase started, telling them who was in the car. Lexi had a bit of minor celebrity status, and he counted on it being enough to keep the cops from blowing her head off. The chase had gone live on several cable news stations. At the moment there wasn’t much to see, however, as the chopper had lost Rainier the moment Lexi killed the lights and swerved off of the main drive.
As police swarmed into the Packard estate and Glen was escorted to a waiting patrol car, the chopper found Rainier again, on the hill in the graveyard. Even as the spotlight was swinging that way, the gray sports car exploded. The blast was violent enough to lift the car several feet off the ground, where a secondary blast ripped through the disintegrating structure. The seven-foot tall monument on Ren’s grave was blown off of its pedestal, and broke into three pieces when it hit the ground.
Rainier was in more pieces than that. The burning thing was barely recognizable as an automobile after it hit the ground again. It looked like a crumpled piece of newspaper in a fireplace, but the flames didn’t die out. Cars burned pretty well to begin with, and Lexi had slathered so much gel on the car that it was liable to burn until it was little more than slag and ash. Which was, of course, the whole idea. The snow should keep the woods from catching; although burning the entire Packard estate to the ground would’ve been cathartic, it wasn’t really a nice thing to do.
Lexi lay in the snow forty feet away, with the heat of the fire on her face and the chilly ground beneath her. The news helicopter chattered into view just as she decided to make a snow angel, and flapped her arms and legs accordingly. There were police sirens in the near distance, too. She sighed pleasantly.
She couldn’t actually see the sky, thanks to a heavy coating of clouds and helicopter spotlights, and of course an encroaching pillar of smoke from just off to her left, but she looked into it anyway. She lay on her back in her snow angel, snow soaking into her clothes. There was a way to get up without messing up the angel, but she couldn’t think of what it was; it had been too long since she’d made one.
She closed her eyes. For the moment, the void inside of her was content and full, and that was good. As the police and security guards ran toward her, she stuck her arm straight up and waved at them. She wondered if they’d be nice, or if they would beat the crap out of her. Not that it mattered much. What she really wanted to do was take a nap.
When they offered her the right to remain silent, Lexi said, “Annunaki gotta go me gonna generate. Me demanda immediate surrenda,” She wasn’t sure she was talking to them exactly, but that was what fell out of her mouth. When they told her that anything she did say could be used against her in court, she said, “Urinal is the name of the angel who stands in the sun,” just to see how they would use that. She was still laughing when they put her in the police car. “Mmm,” she said to herself, “warm vinyl.” She was asleep by the time the car left the Packard estate.