As no one else seems inclined, I take charge. “For the rest of today, we rest and recover. We shower, we eat, we watch stupid TV or hike in the mountains. We have a bonfire, maybe roast marshmallows. Nothing bigger than that. We’re as safe as we’re going to be right now. So we’re taking advantage. Tonight, we’re college kids who took our grandparent’s RV out for a night in the mountains.”
Looking at the grim faces, I’m not sure we can pull it off. Jansen and Trips both have busted, swollen hands, and Walker hasn’t cleaned the blood off his head yet. RJ comes up the steps, sliding the door closed behind him, his gait a little off from the blows he took. He hasn’t let me look him over, but I’m sure he’s needed ice packs as much as Trips has. Jansen’s ankle is obviously swollen where it’s crossed over his knee, and I still look like I haven’t eaten enough lately, my back itchy from Fluffington’s claws digging in. Twice.
At least physically, I know I got out of last night easy.
“Do we remember how to do that? How to be normal, carefree college students?” I ask.
Walker scans the room. “I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, I’ve only had that experience this fall, after you moved in with us.”
Strange, small nods follow that statement from the other guys. And except for my first semester of college, I’m in the same boat.
“Okay, so, we suck at being normal. In that case, we fake it. We’re good at that at least, right?”
Jansen manages a small grin. “With you? Hell no. It’s all real, all the time, beautiful.”
A choked laugh escapes me, and the weight of the room lightens. Just a little.
“Whatever. We’ll try. Walker, you should shower first.”
“Not going for that zombie look?” he teases.
“Not if we don’t want to scare our neighbors.”
He stands, picking up his bag and digging through it, pulling out what he needs. “Anybody bring shampoo or soap?” he asks.
Silence greets his question.
He goes to the little kitchenette and finds the cracked bar of soap that came with the rig, his face grim. “How much money do we have?”
Trips stands, pulling wads of cash out of his bag, his coat, and Walker’s coat. Jansen adds to his pile, then the rest of us pull out whatever we were able to grab on our way out the door, Fluffington knocking over the tall stack Trips made with his tail.
Walker shakes his head and goes to shower, Trips pushing the cat off the table to count what we brought.
“Seven thousand, four hundred and sixty-seven dollars,” he announces, the shower loud in the small space. “Makes me wish I hadn’t made that last deposit.”
RJ adds five prepaid cash cards to the pile. “Another five hundred, less what we paid for tonight’s hookup.”
“Isn’t that good?” I ask, the dollar amount’s high, but everyone’s faces are so grim that I don’t know what to think.
RJ answers. “It depends on where we go and how long we stay hidden.”
“We have stuff to pawn too, right?” I ask.
They nod. Trips rests his head in his one good hand. “And also, on who we have to pay off to disappear.”
“I brought the ring. That must be worth a ton, right?”
His blue eyes resemble faded bruises when he looks at me. “Yeah. But it’s also identifiable.”
“How large of a net will your dad cast?”
“Losing isn’t an option for a Westerhouse.”
I sit with that, thinking. Jansen scoops up the cat and goes to the bedroom. I’m not sure if he’s just bored or if he needs to sleep. RJ leans back in the chair he’s claimed, still not speaking. Which would worry me if I didn’t know he’ll speak once he’s able to. Right now, everything is too raw. I get it. He needs silence.
I need a solution.
The water turns off, Walker slipping out in clean clothes a few minutes later.
