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“Yeah. We sell guns. That’s what I was at the house to do. We buy guns in the South, mostly, then drive them to Florida or back to California to sell.”
“Well, that’s a career path they didn’t tell me about on career day at school,” I said, getting a little burst of a chuckle out of him, a deep, throaty sound that I wanted to hear again.
“Yeah. Kind of stumbled upon it ourselves.”
“So… in California… you have a club?”
“Yeah. The club owns a big fucking warehouse that was converted into a living space. So there’s communal living, game, and kitchen areas. Then there are floors of bedrooms. That’s where we live when we aren’t sleeping in motels on the road.”
So that was where they were going after this.
His brother would come and get him.
Then they would go back to California.
And I’d be all alone again.
With no apartment, no job, hell… no clothes.
We fell mostly into silence then as we walked, and I was glad for that as my body started to object to each step, making me need to actually focus to keep myself from whimpering or complaining.
We stopped midday for more water, then each took a little walk to find privacy again, before meeting back and continuing to walk.
My body felt like it was held together with elastic bands stretched too thin, making me all wobbly and uneven, but I tried to keep myself behind Riff, so he didn’t notice as he trudged on, seemingly immune to pesky things like muscle fatigue or exhaustion. Even though I was reasonably sure he hadn’t actually gotten any sleep either.
My gaze was fixed down on my feet, sure I would see blood oozing out of the ballet flats that seemed to be cutting into my swollen feet. That was how I ended up plowing right into him, letting out a squeak of surprise at the feel of him.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a step back.
“A road,” he said as I came toward his side, squinting off into the distance. And, sure enough, a couple dozen yards ahead, there was a well-worn dirt road.
Somehow, though, the sight of it filled me with panic instead of relief.
What if my captor was in a car, driving around looking for me? What if the people who lived by this road were friends of his? What if they called him? What if he killed Riff, and took me back to hell?
“Hey, hey, hey,” Riff said, reaching to press his hands on my shoulders, but pulling back at the last second, not seeming to want to touch me, and that filled me with a sadness I couldn’t explain. “It’s going to be okay. We will follow the road, but we’ll do it from in the woods deep enough that no one should see us if they drive down, okay?”
That seemed to loosen the cord tightening around my chest loosen slightly, but not enough to make breathing exactly easy again either.
“I’m hoping that as we follow it down, it will lead to a more populated area. Then there’s no way someone would try to come for us, right?” he asked, trying to rationalize with my anxiety. But there was no helping this. I wasn’t going to feel okay again until I was hidden away somewhere that no one could find me.
“As soon as I see more signs of life, I will power up my phone and make the call. I promise you, darlin’, Raff will come as fast as the wheels on that car will turn. And he’ll get us out of here.”
“Okay,” I agreed, pressing a hand to my wobbling stomach.
He must have taken that to mean I was hungry, though, when he suddenly reached for the packaged meal, cut the top open, and poured some water into it.
“Here. Eat. Then we will move again. I’m hoping we will be down to somewhere with some cell service in another hour or two, max.”
And, sure enough, he was right.
I’d pulled on my little blue cardigan, suddenly self-conscious about the state of my dress, of myself, as I stayed behind Riff while we walked down a two-lane road toward what looked like a small town.
“Wait, no. No,” I said, tone more desperate as my hands grabbed the back of Riff’s shirt, pulling until he stopped. “No,” I said again, voice all shaky.
“Whoa, okay,” he said, freezing. “Alright. No, what?”
“No… I don’t want to go down there. Please, don’t make me… not until…”
