“Probably hiding between the big rigs. You just getting back from the lake?”
“Yeah, headed home to wash the sheets and repack,” Bill chuckles warmly. “Taking the scouts up to Palo Duro Canyon next weekend. Figured I’d grab a bite here before I made the final push home.”
“Well, you need to be careful,” Jimmy warns him. “These carjackers could be desperate. Are your doors all locked up?”
The silence that follows lasts for maybe two seconds, but it feels like an eternity. In the dark, Noah shifts slightly. I feel his good hand brush against my hip as he reaches toward the latch of our compartment, his muscles coiling tight. If Bill says no, if Bill reaches for the handle to check…
What are we going to do?
“Nah, I keep ‘em locked up tight,” Bill says confidently. “Nobody is getting into my rig without a crowbar. I made sure of it before I walked inside.”
Not good enough, Bill.
“Good,” Jimmy sighs. “I'd ask to pop it open just to be thorough, but if you’re locked up, I don’t want to hold you up. Just get in your truck and get on the road. It’s not safe for you to be hanging around the lot right now. We don’t know what kind of fella this is.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Bill chuckles. “You boys stay safe out here.”
“Will do. See you around, Bill.”
The crunch of the cop’s boots finally recedes, fading into the distant, chaotic wash of the police sirens still wailing near the front of the truck stop.
Right outside our door, Bill’s heavy boots shuffle toward the front of the massive RV. A truck door opens, and a heavy set of keys jingles.
Clunk.The heavy door slams shut.
A few seconds later, the deafening roar of a heavy-duty diesel engine violently shakes the metal walls of our compartment.
“Noah,” I whisper, the panic rising in my throat as the vibrations travel straight into my bones.
“Hold on,” he answers, his hand finding my shoulder in the dark.
The RV lurches forward. My head knocks against the canvas chairs as the suspension dips and sways. The tires crunch over the gravel in the parking lot, picking up speed as Bill navigates away from the swarming police presence and back toward the highway.
I guess this is one way to get out of here.
And we are entirely at the mercy of wherever this stranger named Bill is taking us.
29
NOAH
Fuck,this is bad. But also…
It’s better than being stuck trying to hide at a gas station swarmed with cops.
So maybe, we’re actually really lucky. Or maybe we’re just trading one metal coffin for another. I don’t know.
The vibration of the RV’s heavy-duty suspension rattles my teeth, the loud, rhythmic hum of the tires on the asphalt drowning out everything else. Pitch black doesn’t even begin to describe the darkness inside this storage bay. It’s an absolute, miserably small void.
And I fucking hate it. My chest feels tight with anxiety.
I shift slightly, trying to relieve the pressure on my left arm, but there’s nowhere to go. My six-foot-three frame is folded like a cheap lawn chair. My knees are practically pressed against my collarbone, and the metal latch of the door is digging a permanent bruise into my spine. Every time the RV hits a seam in the highway, my head bumps against the low fiberglass ceiling, sending a fresh wave of exhaustion through my system.
“Noah,” Rue whispers, her voice trembling in the dark.
“I’m here with you,” I answer immediately, my hand blindly searching the space between us until my fingers brush against her knee.
She lets out a shaky breath and closes the remaining distance. In the cramped space, she has no choice but to practically crawl into my lap. I pull her flush against me with my good arm, tucking her head beneath my chin.
