by Trevor Shane
“Who is this?” I asked.
“Joe,” he replied, “you’ve got to get out of there.” It clicked when he said my name.
“Brian?”
“Don’t say my name, Joe. Don’t worry about who I am or why I’m calling. Just go. Go now.” I could hear the fear in his voice. It was real.
“What’s going on?” I asked, confused. I was sure it was Brian. I just didn’t understand why he was calling me. I’d been cut loose.
“They know,” Brian replied. “They know where you are, Joe. They know everything. You don’t have any time. You’ve got to get out of there.” His voice quivered. It finally sank in that he was trying to help me.
“Where can I go?” I asked, hoping that Brian would have more answers, that he would have some sort of plan. I was hoping Brian would tell me what to do and where to go just like he used to back when things were simpler.
“I can’t help you, Joe. If they even find out I called you, I’m a dead man. Just go. Please go. I can’t talk anymore. Just go and don’t look back.”
“What do they know?” I asked, trying to get as much useful information as I could before he hung up.
“Everything, Joe. They know where you work. They know what car you drive. They know everything and they’re coming. You’re not safe. They’re coming for you right now.” I wanted to ask more. I opened my mouth but before I could say anything else I heard a clicking sound and then a dial tone. Brian had hung up. Either that or somebody had disconnected us.
I held the phone to my ear for a few more seconds, listening to the drone. It was time to run again, only this time the stakes were raised. This time, our son’s life was on the line too. I looked down at your body as you slept. I didn’t want to wake you up. I didn’t want to make you run again. But I knew that the only thing riskier than running was standing still.
I stood up quickly. I grabbed a duffel bag and began throwing everything I thought we might need inside of it. I went into the bathroom and reached under the sink and grabbed the cash that we had stashed there. We had been able to save up some money over the past few months. We spent a lot of our savings on your blood pressure medication. There wasn’t a whole lot of money left but I had to hope that it was enough to help us get away. I opened a drawer, pulling out clothes and throwing them in the duffel bag too. Then I grabbed the gun. I held it in my hand for a second. I hadn’t held it since I shot that kid in Ohio. The gun felt good in my hand. Whatever the reason, the weight of it in my hand calmed me down.
I didn’t turn the lights on in case we were being watched. They could have been waiting outside. For all I knew, the flicker of the lights was the trigger that would set their whole plan into action. I wanted to be ready first. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. You were going to have to wake up anyway—better to do it with noise than by me shaking you awake. When your eyes finally blinked open you were staring at me holding the gun.
“What’s going on?” you asked, squinting at me through the darkness.
“We’re leaving,” I replied.
“What?” you asked.
“We’re leaving. Now,” I replied.
“We can’t, Joe. It’s too dangerous.” You looked down at your stomach.
I grabbed a handful of your clothes from the dresser and threw them on the bed next to you. “Get dressed,” I pleaded. “Please.”
“We can’t do this, Joe. It’s too dangerous.” You placed a whole hand over your belly as if trying to protect it. “We have to be careful.”
I walked over to the window. I lifted the curtains slightly and peered outside. I couldn’t see anything. The parking lot was still. Nothing was moving. Everything was where it should be. I tried to glance at the outside of our motel room door. The angle was difficult, but it didn’t appear that anyone was out there waiting for us. Maybe Brian was wrong or maybe it was a trap.
“I got a phone call,” I said to you. “It was a warning.”
“From who?” you asked.
“A friend,” I replied. I had to believe that Brian was a friend. I had to trust someone. “Please put on your sneakers.”
“I thought that you were cut loose. I thought that you didn’t have any friends anymore.”
“Me too” was the only answer I could give you. You sat on the edge of the bed and started to slip your sneakers onto your feet.
“I can’t run, Joe. You know that.” I knew. No strenuous activity. We’d have to get out without making you run.
“We’re escaping, Maria. I’m not asking you to run.”
“Do we even know who we’re escaping from?” you asked.
I didn’t. Brian could have had inside information or he could have heard rumors coming from the other side. We didn’t have time to try to figure it out. “Yeah,” I answered, “whoever is chasing us.”
I looked around the room for anything else we might need. I packed our money and about half of your clothes. I went to the closet and grabbed my tool belt and my tools. I threw them in the duffel bag with our clothes and zipped it up. I felt the weight of the duffel bag. It would have been easier if you could carry it, but it was too heavy. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I slung the bag over my shoulder. Then I checked to make sure the gun was loaded. “We need to get to the car,” I said to you. You nodded. “I’m not sure it’s safe out there.” The doctor had told me to try to limit your stress. Some things are easier said than done.
I held the gun in my right hand and guided you behind me with my left. I opened our motel room door, half expecting all hell to break loose when I did. Nothing happened. The door creaked open. Once the door stopped moving and the creaking sound stopped, it was replaced only by the hollow sounds of night. The moon was about a quarter full but the parking lot outside of the motel was lit brightly from a streetlight. Beyond that, the night was full of shadows.
“It looks safe,” I whispered over my shoulder without looking at you. “Are you okay?”
“I’m trying,” you answered as honestly as you could.
“Here are the car keys,” I said to you, handing the keys behind me. I felt your hand reach out to take them. Your hand was warm. “Stay behind me until we get to the bottom of the stairs. Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, duck down and head for the car. I’ll follow you. I’ll protect you.” We walked slowly together. Once we got to the bottom of the stairs, you dropped your head beneath your shoulders and made a dash for the car. All I could think was, not too fast, Maria. You squatted down by the passenger side door of the car and unlocked it. I walked quickly after you, trying to look everywhere all at once as I ran. All I saw was more of the same, more of nothing. By that point, the nothingness was what began scaring me the most. I threw the duffel bag in the backseat and climbed into the car.
You handed me the car keys. I slid them into the ignition and turned the key. The engine revved up.
I pulled the car out of the parking lot. My mind raced, trying to make some sense of things. I knew that getting away wasn’t going to be this easy. I knew it.
“Now what?” you asked me. “Do we just try to drive away?” I could see in your eyes that you were beginning to question whether or not we even really needed to run away.
I weighed our options in my mind. Brian’s words echoed in my head. They know what car you drive. Eventually we’d have to get rid of the car, but not yet. Our first goal was to get out of town. “That’s one option,” I answered you. “But they know what car we’re driving.”
“Well, do we have any other options?” you asked
“I don’t know.” I didn’t even know where I was driving. I just kept moving forward, turning deeper and deeper into nowhere. The night was still and peaceful. Nothing was moving but us. I drove along the empty, tree-lined street, making turn after turn, and we saw nothing.
“Let’s just drive,” you said. “Let’s just get on the highway and go. So they know our car. So what? There’s nobody here, Joe.” I could see the shadow of each passing tree float over your fac
e as we moved forward, casting your face in alternate strips of dark and light. “How are they going to find us when they’re not even here?”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. It was a relief to even think. Just drive away. “We can abandon the car later. We can get lost again.” I turned the car around another corner, heading us back toward the long two-lane highway running away from Charleston, away from our new life. All I had to do was get on that highway and step on the gas. For one sweet moment it all seemed so simple.
Then we heard a crash. It came out of nowhere, echoing through the still night air like thunder. “What the hell was that?” you shouted, turning in your seat, unaware of what direction the sound had come from. It sounded almost like an explosion. It came from the highway, the highway that we were headed toward.
“I don’t know,” I said, slowing the car down so that we could listen better. Seconds after the crash there was the sound of an engine revving, then tires screeching on pavement. It was coming from the highway. The sound started getting louder. Whatever it was, whoever it was, they were headed in our direction. Without stopping the car, I flicked off the car’s headlights. We were driving in darkness. The sound kept coming. It was close now. I yanked the steering wheel to the right and pulled the car off the side of the road, barely squeezing between two trees. Right as I turned the car off, a car sped past us down the road. I watched it in the rearview mirror. It flew by in a blur. Only a split second after that, another car followed, chasing after the first. The second car’s front fender was smashed in. It had hit something. God only knows what. We sat in silence for a few moments before I dared start the car again. Neither of us took a breath.
“Do you think they were looking for us?” you asked. I started the car again, flicking the headlights on. Then I pulled the car back up onto the now empty road.
“Does anything else make any sense?” I answered you. You shook your head. You knew the truth. They were out there. They were close. And they were after us.
“What do we do now?” you asked, the fear that was absent almost moments ago now creeping into your voice.
“That doesn’t change anything. We already knew they were here.” I slowly sped up the car. We were heading for the highway. When we made it to the turn, I looked down the dark highway. It was long and straight and empty. The end of it simply disappeared into the darkness. I pulled our car out onto the highway. All I wanted to do was drive. I stepped on the gas but it only lasted a short moment.
“Holy shit!” you shouted. “What is that?” I saw it too. I barely caught a glimpse of it at the very edge of the light from our headlights. There was something moving off the side of the road. Whatever it was, it didn’t look human. For the second time in minutes, I pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the headlights.
“Stay here,” I said to you. You didn’t listen. By the time I got out of the car, you were already standing outside. The air was warm. There was a pungent smell in the air that I recognized but couldn’t place. I pulled the gun from my belt and began walking toward whatever it was that was moving by the side of the road. You walked closely behind me. I could almost feel your body against mine. I could feel your breath on my neck. Before I saw anything, I felt you gasp behind me.
“Oh, my God!” you yelled. I looked ahead of us. The grass in front of us was dark from something. “There’s blood,” you shouted. “There’s blood everywhere.” That was the smell. It was the smell of blood.
“Quiet,” I whispered to you. “No matter what we see, we have to stay quiet.” The trail of blood started at the street and led all the way to whatever it was that we had seen from the road. It was still moving. I took another step closer. I could see it better now. It was a man but he was in worse shape than anyone I’d ever seen before. I’d seen dead men in better shape. He was lying facedown in the grass. He was dressed entirely in black. He was wearing the uniform of an assassin—the same one that I had worn countless times. The movements his body was making were totally unnatural. His arms were moving in directions arms weren’t supposed to move. It could have just been muscle spasms. I couldn’t even be sure that he was still alive. We took another few steps toward him. Then I heard him moan.
We didn’t have time for this. We were being chased. I was certain of that now. This man had something to do with it. How he’d ended up on the side of the road, I couldn’t even imagine. “We have to leave him,” I told you. I turned around and started walking toward the car.
“What?” you asked. “We can’t just leave him here.” You looked over at the body. “He’ll die.” That was the truth. What it had to do with us was beyond me.
“We’re leaving.”
“We can’t just leave him!” you shouted. I held my hand up to my mouth again to motion to you to keep quiet. You lowered your voice. “You promised me there would be no more death!”
“I didn’t cause this,” I said, pointing at the squirming body with the muzzle of the gun. It was a lie. Somehow it was a lie. His groans became louder and more distinctive. He could hear us talking. He was trying to say something to us. The voice murmured through a mouthful of wet grass. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then he managed to get out one word that I could understand. “Please.” You looked at me. Even in the darkness I could see the pain in your eyes.
I walked back past you, back toward the body. When I got near you, you whispered, “Be careful.” I stepped up toward the body. You stood only a few feet behind me. I kept the gun pointed at the squirming body. I told myself that there was no way this was a trap. There was too much blood for it to be a trap. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, though. I didn’t know what to expect. The groans had grown quiet, as if the body had used up all of its remaining energy trying to talk to us. Please. Now only soft, quiet moans came from the body as it quivered below my feet. I hooked my foot under one of his shoulders and lifted. He was deadweight. It took all my strength, but I was able to flip him over without getting my hands dirty. He was now lying on his back.
He was covered in blood. I’m pretty certain not all of it was his. His legs were twisted under him, corkscrewing, not flipping over properly with the rest of his body. He couldn’t move them. His neck was broken. Once facing the sky, he opened its eyes. His face was cut up. Blood covered much of it but when his eyes opened they were a bright green. Even in the darkness I could see the color. “Help,” he said now, more clearly. He wanted to say “Help me” but didn’t have the strength to get out the second word. Punctured lungs. Broken ribs. I could diagnose a whole boatload of problems that I couldn’t cure. You stepped around me and knelt down in the grass beside him. You brushed some of the dirt off of his face.
I made eye contact with him. “You were in the car crash that we heard?” I asked. His head moved slightly, as much of a nod as we were going to get out of him. “This happened to you in that car crash?” Another nod. He was clearly the casualty of some chase. “And then they threw you out of the car? They left you here?” Again, his head moved; this time, I could see the sadness in his eyes. You grimaced, not being able to imagine how anyone could be so cold. I knew how. He was deadweight. He was slowing down a mission. Finding us was that mission. When you see death every day, one more death doesn’t mean as much to you. They probably didn’t even think twice before they tossed him out of the car.
“We have to do something, Joe,” you turned to me and said as you held the dying man’s head in your hands. The man looked up at you as you brushed his bloodstained hair off his forehead.
“There’s nothing we can do, Maria.” You knew I was right. Still, your eyes pleaded with me to try. I got down on my knees on the other side of him.
“Can you move your legs?” I asked. I could see the man’s face strain. I looked down at his legs. There was no movement. “Your arms? Can you move your arms?” Again his face strained. This time one of his arms moved. The other lay still. It appeared to be broken. As he moved his arm, he let out another painf
ul moan.
Suddenly, I heard another car coming down the road. There wasn’t any time to find better cover. “Duck down,” I said to you. We got as low to the ground as we could. The night sky flared up with light as the headlights moved past us. The sound of gravel churning grew loader and then quieter again. The car sped away from us. Soon, all that was left was the sound of our breathing and the body’s wheezing.
“We have to go, Maria. It’s not safe here.” I could feel the panic rising in my chest. We were going to get caught because you were too kind.
“We can’t just leave him, Joe,” you answered, tears welling up in your eyes.
“Listen, Maria, you’re going to have to make a decision here. Do you want to try to save this man or do you want to save our son? Because we’re not going to be able to do both.” You understood. I could see it in the expression on your face.
The dying man’s head was still in your lap. You looked down at him. “I’m sorry,” you said. You lifted his head up off your lap and stood up. You were trying to keep yourself from crying, which only led to sobbing. You turned away from the body and started walking back to our car. I looked down at the man, lying there. His eyes followed you as you walked toward the car.
I turned away from him too. I started following you back to the car. Then I heard another moan, this one louder. He didn’t want to be left alone. He must have known that he was going to die but he didn’t want to die alone. I turned back toward the body. “If I find a phone, I’ll send help for you,” I said to him. He slowly closed his eyes, knowing that help was never going to come.
When I got back into the car, you were already sitting inside. The tears had stopped. There was only determination in your face now. I turned the car back on and pulled back onto the highway. We started driving in the other direction.
“Where are we going?” you asked.