A pause. "Who's asking?"
I swallow hard. "Tell him that his brother sent me."
Another, longer pause. Then, "Hold on."
I wait, watching the store entrance nervously. Earl has gone back to his newspaper, paying me no attention. Still, I feel exposed, vulnerable.
"This is Dice." A new voice comes on the line, younger, edged with tension. "Who the hell is this and what do you know about my brother?"
"My name is Rebecca. I'm with James. He's hurt, and we need help."
"James is in prison," Dice replies immediately, suspicion evident. "Who are you really?"
"There was a riot," I explain quickly. "He was attacked by men working for someone named Walsh. We escaped, but they're hunting us. James is badly injured. He said you'd help."
Silence on the line. I can almost feel him processing this information, deciding whether to trust me.
"Where are you now?" he finally asks.
"A gas station called Earl's, off a service road about two miles east of the prison."
"I know it. Stay put. I'll be there in twenty minutes. And Rebecca? If you're lying to me..."
The threat remains unfinished, but I get the message. "We'll be waiting. Please hurry."
I hang up, exhale slowly, then move through the store collecting supplies. Water bottles, protein bars, a first aid kit, pain relievers. They have a small rack of clothing, mostly touristy t-shirts and caps. I grab the largest shirt they have, a dark blue one with "Pine Haven Fishing" printed on it.
As I approach the counter with my purchases, Earl stares at me.
"You alright, miss? You seem a bit... rattled."
I force a smile. "Just having car trouble down the road. My friend's waiting while I get some supplies and call for help."
He nods, though his expression suggests he's not entirely convinced. "Where you broken down at? I can call Pete's Towing for you."
"Oh, that's okay. A friend is already on his way to help. But thank you."
Earl rings up my items slowly, still watching me. "You hear about that commotion at the prison? Police scanner's been going crazy. Some kind of riot. They say some inmates might've escaped."
My heart pounds, but I keep my expression neutral. "Really? That's scary. Hopefully they'll catch them quickly."
"Mmm." He bags my items. "That'll be twenty-seven fifty."
I count out the cash from my wallet, aware of how few bills remain. I hadn't exactly prepared for life on the run when I went to work this morning.
"Be careful out there," Earl says as he hands me my change. "Never know who you might run into these days."
Is that a warning? Does he suspect something? I can't tell, but I don't want to stay long enough to find out.
"Thanks. Have a good day," I reply, taking my bag and heading for the door.
Once outside, I circle back around to where I left James, moving casually until I'm out of Earl's line of sight, then quickening my pace.
James is right where I left him, though his eyes are closed, his breathing shallow. Fear spikes through me. I drop to my knees beside him.
"James?"
His eyes flutter open, focusing on me with effort. "Rebecca. You're back."
