How can we get away from at least two grown men?
The odds were stacked against them. She knew it, and she was sure Maria knew it too. But she refused to allow fear to stop them. The slogan on a t-shirt a friend of hers had bought from her favorite author’s store popped into her mind.
Fight like a girl.
She dug deep into the well of determination that allowed her to handle a pissed-off Rain, or to compete at the show where her mom had reigned as champion for five years on the trot, then silently vowed that as soon as this trailer stopped, she was getting them out of here and running as fast and as far as she could.
You’ll never know how strong you can be until being strong is all you have left.
Enya cocked her head to one side, listening to the engine, trying to figure out the reason for the sudden drop in speed as the trailer finally slowed, and the brakes hissed.
We’re stopping.
She heaved herself over onto her hands and knees and crawled toward the side wall, pausing every few inches to listen, but she couldn’t hear anything. All she was sure of was that the pattern of travel had changed.
Traffic lights?
Check point?
Shit, maybe we’re at a border crossing.
The thought of the border was enough to spur her into action. They might not get another chance, “Maria, hurry.” She prayed this trailer was similar to her dad’s and that she could manipulate the door like she did his.
Please let this work.
Her hand found the seam where the side door split from the wall. The inside latch wasn’t made to be opened from the floor, but she knew how to work a bolt by feel. She’d done it half-asleep more times than she could count, before dawn warmups or late-night load-outs after rodeo runs. Her thumb found the recessed groove, and she held her breath as she pressed it up. The lock clicked.
Yes!
She had to bite back the exclamation as she looked over her shoulder, met Maria’s eyes, and mouthed, “Ready?”
Maria nodded, and Enya pushed hard. When the bolt gave, the side door cracked open, and after a quick look to make sure she wasn’t jumping out into the middle high-speed traffic, she scrambled out the door. When her boots hit the road, her legs almost gave under her weight, but she willed them to do what she wanted.
Even though Maria’s breathing was ragged, she had a shoe half-tied and sliding off her heel, she jumped out swiftly behind her, and Enya eased the door of the trailer closed.
Enya grabbed Maria’s hand and yanked her toward the blind side of the trailer, away from what she could now see was a checkpoint. She didn’t dare run past the truck toward it. Terrified that their captors would see them escaping, they ran fast and low and ducked behind a shallow ditch. Beyond it,they found a cracked stretch of pavement that curved downhill between some narrow buildings.
“Come on,” she gasped, pulling Maria behind her. “Stay with me.”
They didn’t speak as they ran. Breath was too precious, and every ounce of focus belonged to their feet and the ground beneath them. When they rounded the corner and the narrow street opened up, Enya spotted the store before she registered a battered payphone in front of the low concrete building with sun-faded paint and a metal sign half rusted off the frame. The payphone was bolted to the wall beside the door, its cord dangling loose, and a sob of relief escaped her when she realized that the receiver was intact.
She didn’t stop moving until she reached it. Her shoulder hit the wall to brace herself as her knees buckled, and she slid onto her butt hard enough to jolt her spine. Her fingers fumbled with her right boot, every movement clumsy and slow from the swelling in her hands and the blood that had dried in her nail beds as she tore the boot off and turned it heel-up. Her thumb dug into the rubber sole of the heel. She pulled and tugged at it, praying she could pry it loose.
“What are you doing?” Maria wrung her hands and stepped from foot to foot.
“I have money in the heel of my boot. We can use it to call someone.”
“We should go inside.”
I’m so stupid.
“Yeah.” Maria was correct; it was a stupid move to stop here in the open where they could be seen. She scrambled back to her feet and hobbled into the store after Maria. They hurried to the counter and the old woman, who watched them warily from her place behind it. “Help us, please.”
The woman behind the counter didn’t answer at first. Her eyes narrowed slightly, hands still resting on the edge of the register. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and flat, the words shaped by an accent that told Enya everything she didn’t want to know.
“No hablo inglés.”
Crap.
