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Hunter comes out of the bank with a smile. “Do you want me to drive?” he asks.
“Yes,” I nod gratefully and get out of the driver’s seat. I’m happy to let him take the wheel. I am exhausted.
“Everything went okay?”
“Yep,” he nods. “I was able to get six grand, but that was all they would let me withdraw. We’ll make it work.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“You shouldn’t have to be draining your bank account to go on the run with me,” I sigh.
He chuckles. “It’s not exactly drained. I’ve been saving for a rainy day.”
“For what?” I ask. “What were you going to buy?”
“A house. Land. I’m not sure. I like having a cushion.”
“Just in case you go on the run with a crazy woman,” I laugh.
“Something like that.”
"So, who are you?" I ask. “What’s your story?”
He glances at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm just a guy trying to make it through this crazy world," he replies, his tone light but tinged with sadness. "My father ran off when I was young, so it was just me and my mom. She raised me on her own, and she passed away a couple of years ago. I don’t have any siblings. I have some distant relatives scattered around the country, but I don’t really know them."
"I'm sorry," I offer quietly, knowing all too well the pain of losing a parent.
He shrugs. "It is what it is," he says with a sigh. "I grew up in the San Diego area, so I guess you could say I'm a California boy at heart. I started flying when I was sixteen. I thought I was going to be a commercial pilot but a friend turned me onto the charter flight business. It turned out to be very lucrative. I like flying all over the world. I’m not married to any set schedule. It is, or was, a good gig."
I listen intently as he tells me about himself. “You always knew you wanted to be a pilot?”
“When I was in high school, a Navy recruiter came for a visit. I talked to him a lot. He was actively recruiting me, promising me a chance of being a fighter pilot. The idea of flying jets thrilled me. Then I got into some trouble and the Navy guy came down on me pretty hard. I realized I might not be cut out for military life.”
“Why?”
His voice is filled with a subtle melancholy. “I’m not great at following orders. My grandfather helped raise me. He was a hard, hard man. I loved him, but he took a hard line. He passed away when I was ten. I know he was trying to keep me on the straight and narrow, but I just wasn’t built to be a man that always colored within the lines.”
“You’ve got a rebellious streak,” I smile.
“I do,” he nods. “Nothing criminal. I just like to do what I want when I want.”
I can tell that Hunter is telling me his story because he trusts me, because we're on the run together. I can feel a bond forming between us, whether we like it or not. The one thing I know for sure is that I feel grateful for his companionship and his unwavering determination. We talk and share stories all the way to Baton Rouge where we make another quick stop for food and gas. We don’t stick around long. It seems like we’ve lost the men. I hope it stays that way for good.
We make it Mobile, Alabama, exhaustion weighing on both of us. The long hours on the road taking their toll. “We have to sleep,” Hunter says.
“I know,” I agree.
“Should we do a roadside motel or opt for a hotel in the city?”
He thinks about it. “As much as I would love the Marriott, I think we should stick with something close to the highway with an easy exit—just in case.”
I nod. Longing for a five-star hotel with Egyptian cotton sheets and plush seating, but that life is behind me. This is what my life is like now.
Chapter ten
Hunter
