Roadkill

Cover Roadkill
Roadkill
Rob Thurman
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Genres: Fiction
What did was that I needed some Tylenol. Suyolak in our heads, using that mixture of telepathy, telekinesis, and whatever else Niko had said—okay, I was going with that as the cause of my aching head. Niko’s swats I was used to.
We’d pulled into a gas station at the first exit after I traveled back to the car. We needed to fill up the tank anyway, and getting about a gallon of coffee to keep ancient Rom antihealers from paying any of us another visit wasn’t a bad idea either. I could also raid
...the first aid kit we kept in the trunk. It didn’t fit in the glove compartment. If we needed first aid, we needed a hospital in a box—but besides morphine, codeine, staples and stitches, occlusive pressure bandages, and other advanced medical supplies, it also had your run-of-the-mill Tylenol.
I downed two with the coffee, although other than the headache, I didn’t feel bad. I wasn’t that wild about Suyolak poking around in my dreams . . . Mengele/ Freddy Krueger—not a good mix.
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