I nod, inching to the front. Jansen slices a glance at me.
“I found a first aid kit. Need anything?”
He huffs out a breath. “I’ll have to soak this glove if I’m going to get it off, so for now, I’m good.”
“How badly is it hurt? And your leg?”
“I shredded most of the skin and then some off my left hand.” Which would explain why he’s single fisting the steering wheel. “My ankle is probably just sprained. It doesn’t feel broken. What about you and Walker? That’s a lot of blood you two are sporting.”
Shit. I never even thought about what Walker and I must have looked like wandering across campus. Battle worn and bloody, apparently. “We both have concussions, but his is worse. Shit got ugly, and we were stuck down in the tunnels.”
“The tunnels?”
“We knew we had a tail. We were hoping we could lose him there. But it was my dad’s best guy.”
“How’d you make it?”
“Dumb luck and Walker slamming kitty litter at the guy’s head.”
Jansen’s eyes get big for a second. “Prince Fluffington.”
“Is in a bag by RJ. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do with that cat.”
Clara’s voice calls from behind us. “He saved RJ. He gets all the kitty treats we can find him.”
“You okay there, beautiful?” Jansen asks, his tone light, but his face grim.
“No,” she says, not elaborating. And when I turn to look at her, she’s back to pressing her face against RJ’s chest.
Jansen’s jaw is tight as he stares into the darkness. I slump into the chair nearest Jansen, giving RJ and Clara space, the first aid kit in my hands too little for whatever is going on.
Always too little. Always too late.
Chapter 34
Jansen
The RV falls silent, everyone sinking into fitful sleep as the highway leads me farther from home. We never picked a destination, so I head west, figuring we should go where none of us knows anyone. Plus, I should probably cross state lines before morning comes and whoever I stole this bus from notices it’s missing. Hopefully, they’re snowbirds, and it won’t be reported until spring, but based on the small things everyone’s shared, we won’t be that lucky tonight.
I never thought my fucked-up sleep schedule would come in handy, but it lets me drive until the pale sun inches over the horizon behind me.
The one lucky break we got was this beast had a full tank when I took it, but now it’s inching toward empty. A quiet gas station in South Dakota calls my name, so I pull in, hoping the stop won’t wake everyone up.
Only Trips’ eyes flicker open as I turn the key, the wan morning light making him even paler than usual.
“Gas, food, first aid,” I say, not ready to have a real conversation with him.
He hands me a wad of bills that probably totals a thousand, his cash operations also coming in handy. “I’ll get the cat situated if you find me something that can be turned into a litter box.”
I nod, grabbing a red and white trucker hat that came with the rig, tucking my hair up under it, and stepping out into the winter air. This was not the plan. Not at all.
There was a heist, even if it was a small one, to look forward to. A therapist to trick and my girl to cling to when it inevitably wasn’t enough. My sister and Emma were supposed to be another distraction, a way to make it through this shitty dry spell forced upon us with some levity and grace.
Now? The unknowns feel equal parts thrilling and terrifying, the blank slate marred by the trauma it took just to get this far, and the knowledge that we’re probably the best off we’ll be for a while. And I don’t even know what happened to Clara and RJ that has them so spooked.
I hit up the bathroom, debating the merits of freeing my hand. In the end, I figure I should finish up with the attendant before I set my mangled hand free. We don’t want to be memorable, and if my hand looks like it feels, well, the woman behind the counter won’t forget it soon.
Prepaying for an absurd amount of gas, I get that started, pretending my ankle isn’t begging me to limp, before wandering the aisles, gathering bottles of water, a loaf of bread and some peanut butter, and more first aid supplies than is probably forgettable. My chest gets tight as Trips comes in covered in blood, the second trucker hat from the RV pulled low across his brow. I add a plastic tub for Prince Fluffington, wishing I hada way to get him back to my mom, but shut that thought down hard.
