“So, two weeks huh?”
My heart jumped at her words. Yes!
“Yup,” I answered smugly.
“You know, I don’t blame those women at all. Your personality reflects your looks. They are both great.”
She is really coming on to me right now…
“I can say the same thing about you.”
The sexual tension only heightened.
“Oh really?” she chuckled and tossed her hair behind her shoulder.
“Really,” I replied, emphasizing the word. She moved closer to me. I knew she wanted me to make the first move.
“It is chilly in here…why don’t we keep ourselves warm?”
I propped myself up with my elbow and stared into her eyes, just inches away from her face. It was almost pitch black, with the exception of some moonlight that slipped through the hatch in the roof. She didn’t answer me, and I went in for the kiss. Our lips touched, and I started off delicate. Her lips were amazing, they were soft and plump. She would pull back for a second, teasing me, and I gently sucked on her bottom lip. She rolled over on top of me and her long hair dangled around my face.
We continued with more passion than before. I ran my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Our kissing was deep and in sync. She sucked my bottom lip so hard I could feel it enlarge. She tossed her hair back and moved to my neck, kissing my face and chin as she went down. I could feel the tingling sensation of the skin being filled with blood just below the surface.
I moaned in pleasure. Hickeys were my favorite, and I was hard as a rock. She noticed, and tickled my stomach and slid her hand down to my crotch. She rubbed me through my pants, and I took my free hand and slid my two middle fingers down her pants like you would hold a bowling ball.
She let out a moan. We played with each other for a few minutes, and we continued making out with more intensity as time passed. I removed my hand from her pants and began to reach for my waistline. I felt a firm hand on top of mine. She pulled away from our kiss.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a sexy whisper.
“Getting naked.”
“There’s no need,” she replied.
“What? Why not?” I questioned. Confused, I began to pull at her clothes to assist her in undressing.
“Do you really think I fuck on a first date?”
“Wha—? I mean—”
“Shh,” she said, kissing me more and then pulled back.
“What kind of girl do you think I am? Do I come off as easy?”
“No. Sex is a stress reliever, and after the kind of day we’ve had, anything would help.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but we met less than twelve hours ago. I’m not going to give it up that quickly.”
She dry-humped me through my pants. I could barely contain myself.
“Oh, come on,” I pleaded and kissed her all over her face.
“Shh. Don’t ruin the moment, Owen. We can still have our fun.”
As she said that, she gave me a final kiss and slid down to my waist. She pulled down my pants and freed me from the constricting fabric.
Yes. Oh God, yes.
I moaned as she began to blow me, and God was it wonderful. I placed a firm, yet gentle hand behind her head. The erotic sounds filled the caboose, and we both took turns pleasing each other for what felt like hours. Our sweaty bodies were perfect together. Her voluptuous curves, and my muscles. Although it wasn’t sex, it was the strongest connection I have had intimately since I was with Megan. What intrigued me though, was I spent five years with Megan, and this was so much more raw.
Rachel’s head laid upon my bare torso. Her hair was matted and damp. Sweat beaded off my head and dripped down my neck. I was so relaxed. My back was up against the rough iron wall of the caboose. Her breath hit my chest. The warm exhalation a reminder she was still with me. I ran my fingers through her long, thick hair. Her Puerto Rican ethnicity was apparent in its texture. As I combed it, my fingers would sink inches in—it was voluminous and soft. I cherished this simple moment. I wanted to forget about my dilemma. I wanted to let it go. Part of me wanted to ride this train until the tracks ended. We didn’t need to have a destination. As long as she was with me, everything would be fine. It was refreshing to forget, to let go. That kind of blindness was dangerous…but in the short-term, it was blissful. It was necessary for my peace of mind.
Gently, Rachel kissed my chest and neck, and the underside of my chin.
“You’re so beautiful…” She whispered.
My heart swelled in euphoria.
“So are you,” I said.
She caressed my abs with her pointer finger, tenderly drawing patterns; it was soothing. With Rachel, I felt whole. Ever since that dark day, when Megan gave me my ultimatum, and I chose my party over her—the loneliness had been unrelenting. It only made the void within me grow larger. The emptiness I couldn’t seem to fill. It was the emptiness I’d taken with me every day since my mother died. It was so sudden. There were no goodbyes, no last words—just death. Now, for the first time in almost a decade, Rachel made that emptiness smaller.
The day replayed in my mind like a film reel. Rachel sitting down in front of me during my morning coffee, the five-hour car ride getting to know each other, and then the roadblock and the pursuit that followed. She destroyed her car just to keep us safe. She stuck with me through a journey most athletes would have found challenging. We were dirty, we were exhausted, but yet, she was still here. She was the perfect partner in crime.
“Nice. Remind me of movie I once saw, Bonnie & Clyde. But where is Bonnie?”
Laura’s words from last night resurfaced in my mind. Her heavy accent sounded just as clear as it was in real life. The memory sparked an idea.
“Rachel…” I murmured.
“Yes?” she asked, still playing with the skin on my stomach.
“Will you be my Bonnie?”
She craned her neck upwards and stared into my eyes.
“Bonnie?” she repeated the name.
“Yeah, like Bonnie and Clyde. The outlaws.”
“I know who they are.”
“Well then?”
She gently held my cheek with her hand and kept gazing into my eyes. In the darkness, I thought I caught a small smile emerging.
“Will you be my Clyde?”
- 8 -
“What is your next move?” Emily asked.
I took another sip of coffee before I answered.
“I need another sample.”
“Stefan, you’re joking, right? The evidence is undeniable. It’s plain as day.”
“I know it is, but it’s not enough.”
“In what universe?” she sneered. “The only thing we need is someone in that field to peer-review your research. We go to MIT for God’s sake, there are PhDs in and out of the lab all day. All of whom we are friends with.”
“It doesn’t matter. I need a second sample.”
She stared at me dumbfounded. Her mouth was agape.
“You’ve got to be out of your mind. You even said it yourself. We don’t want anyone else to find out what we are doing. That kid almost barged in and ruined everything.”
“I know what I said—”
“Then stick to what you said,” she interjected. “You and I both know if the wrong people were to find out the kind of experiments we are conducting, we could both wind up in a federal prison. Any institution caught with samples from the Danger Zone could be cut off from funding. Graduate school is hard enough to afford in this economy. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Why is that, though?” I said, tapping the wooden table. “We are in grad school at the most prestigious research university in the world, and just because we aren’t the damn EPA we can’t touch anything from the Danger Zone. It’s fucking ridiculous…”
“You’re telling me something I already know.”
She stared at me with a serious expression. Her lips were pursed. She lightly smoothed
a few misarranged hairs from her bangs behind her ear. Her hair was short and jet black. The one time I had asked her why she kept it short, her response wasn’t surprising. ‘It’s convenient and manageable.’ That was the scientist in her speaking.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so redundant.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” she added.
I shook my head from her comment.
“Look,” she began, “I’m not trying to say I won’t take this risk with you again, because you know I will. I’m just saying to listen to your own advice. You said it was too risky to let Professor find out. We need to be practical…and having our PhD gives us a significant advantage to land a job. There isn’t any steady increase of jobs like before the Confinement. Our economy is shot. Please keep that in mind and base your decision off of logic only.”
She had a point.
“Well, logically speaking, I need another sample before I can approach my dad.”
“Why?”
“Have you ever met him? He’s the busiest person I know. I have to make an appointment to see my own father.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. If I give him this research without more research to back it up he will send me packing. I’m almost a doctor and I still have a hard time impressing him.”
“You’ve been published in scientific journals. You’re one of the best.”
“I know. His work blinds him. He’s just so busy.”
The truth I had just reminded myself of was always difficult to swallow…living in my father’s shadow. I knew though, with this—it would get his attention. I had to have more than enough evidence.
“I’m sorry…” Emily mumbled.
“It’s fine.”
“Well, anyway, I was curious. Who was that phone call to? When I was cleaning up and preserving the samples. You asked for Ms. Walling.”
“Oh, it was my ex.”
She chuckled. “Since when do you date?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I teased her.
She rolled her eyes.
“I barely have time to do homework, let alone have time for a man in my life.”
“I didn’t tell you? She was vacationing in Boston. We met, fooled around a little, and hit it off. I visited her a few times in D.C. and vice-versa. It was long distance. I was the one who ended it, but she still likes me. That’s why I knew she would be willing to talk if I called.”
“And what did she have to say? Or more importantly, what did you ask her?”
“She said exactly what I expected. She lied. Just as she always has since I shared my theory with her.”
“That it’s not Strontium.”
I nodded.
“She probably doesn’t want to risk her job.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I told her what we found, and I told her to tell me the truth.”
“What exactly is her position again?”
“She works in the office. She deals with paperwork.”
Emily’s eyebrows quirked.
“Now why would some paper-pusher know the truth about Black Monday?”
“She is the manager. She has access to the archives in the EPA.”
“And how do you know this?”
“She let it slip,” I answered. “That’s why I am so convinced she has seen some evidence herself. She told me she had access to the archives right after I told her my theory. To me, it seemed like she had something she wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.”
“So how exactly did she word this lie? I mean, you did blatantly tell her you had evidence.”
I glanced down at the table, frustrated. I chewed on my bottom lip.
“She said the evidence I was looking for doesn’t exist, and hung up.”
Emily’s eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“You know,” she said. “You better hope that your ex doesn’t rat us out in fear of losing her job.”
“No,” I dragged out the word. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“How long did you date?”
“A little over six months.”
“That is thin ice you’re walking on, Stefan. You were the one that broke up with her, and the first phone call you make to her is to ask about something confidential? Women remember everything…and some are very spiteful.”
My stomach turned from her comment.
“Are you speaking from experience?” I joked out of nervousness. Her words made me unsettled.
“No, I’m speaking from observation,” she countered.
I swallowed.
“Regardless, I’m going to stick to my plan. I’ll drive to the Danger Zone today and see if I can find another sample. Let’s plan on being in the lab at 5 a.m. tomorrow.”
She pursed her lips and tilted her head in uncertainty.
“I hope that ex of yours is trustworthy. Because you and I both know after what we discovered in our experiment, that they are trying to hide something. Something the American public isn’t privy of knowing.”
The long, prickly grass made the skin on my arms itch and I scratched it to relieve the urge. I lay as flat as I could against the ground to remain hidden. I kept my head propped up just enough to see Rachel and the highway that was just a few feet ahead of me. Hidden in a small ditch, I watched patiently. Rachel had an idea a while ago. She jokingly said, ‘Bonnie would be proud.’
She was playing the role excellently.
Last night we rode the train for around four hours. Rachel relied upon her own judgment to determine how far we had traveled. We got a little scraped up from jumping off the train, but after wandering around for a while in the early morning, we realized we were in the outskirts of Titusville. She was familiar with where we had to go, and we continued south through field after field, until we ran into a two-lane highway that bisected the fields. It ran west, and we walked parallel alongside it, far enough away to remain out of sight from the passing cars. Now, being so close, I noticed there weren’t too many—maybe one every minute or two.
There was a creek we had stumbled upon. Rachel rinsed the mud out of her hair and cleaned her legs and face. It was an essential step in her plan.
It was time to execute it.
She had her hair in a loose ponytail. I was holding her business pants in my left hand, and I had let her borrow the sweatpants I was wearing. The cuffs were rolled up to her knees and her shirt was the white undershirt she had worn yesterday. Although she seemed like she might have just wandered out of a trailer park, her body was still amazing. Some foolish guy would roll up, gawking at her, and fall into our trap. That was exactly what we wanted.
Rachel was the perfect candidate for a hitchhiker. Her tan legs were long and caught the light of the rising sun. They glowed a rich, orange-brown. Her undershirt showed off her bust, and I knew it wouldn’t be long until someone stopped. She had thought of the idea, but I came up with the signal.
We wanted someone riding alone. Judging by her outfit, it would be a man. She stood there with her thumb out at shoulder level. When a vehicle approached, once she could see the driver was alone, she would raise her thumb up to eye-level. That was the signal. She knew that if a car did stop with children in it, she was to make up a false destination and tell the driver she was going somewhere else.
Two cars passed without stopping. I waited anxiously.
An SUV slowed down, and they rolled down their passenger window. Even from my vantage point, I could tell there were more people in the car. I watched as she shook her head and pointed in different directions. She was lying. The SUV drove off.
She looked in my direction, her thumb still in the air, shaking her head side to side. I nodded and gave her a thumbs up to encourage her.
A minute passed. To my right, I saw what looked to be an old, beat-up Nissan. My pulse quickened as it approached her. I noticed that both windows were rolled down.
Even better.
She raised her thumb to eye level. I knew that thi
s was the one. I saw her lean in and seductively twirl a lock of her hair as she spoke to him. She nodded, and I saw her reach for the door. It was time.
I stood up and hurriedly made my way across the highway. Glancing left and right, there were no cars coming from either direction. The mild Florida air swept around my man parts. I was only wearing boxers. Rachel had my sweatpants.
I pulled out my gun and just as Rachel sat down in the passenger seat I reached the car. I held the gun at the man’s temple.
He froze up, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob. His eyes glanced left at the barrel.
“Get out,” I demanded.
“No,” he stammered.
“Get out!” I shouted.
He slowly lifted his hands off the steering wheel and popped open the driver door. He paused before he stood up. He was a chalk-white man, with freckles that covered his face, and he had orange hair. He winced like he was about to cry.
“I just bought this car a week ago,” he hiccupped. “I’ve been saving up for it forever.”
I glanced at the exterior of the car. It was a faded, dark-purple. There was rust along the side molding. Something inside me felt sympathetic for this man…but we had to get to Orlando.
“I need you to trust me,” I said. “Get out!” I yelled once more.
He scowled and stood up. I held the gun against his head and threw my backpack into the open window. It landed in the driver’s seat.
“Rachel. Please give this man a bundle.”
She nodded, and I heard the sound of a zipper. The man’s eyebrows quirked from my words. He was lost.
“Here,” she said.
I leaned over and grabbed the bundle with my free hand.
“Take it,” I said, pushing it into his gut.
“What? Are you serious? I thought you were taking my car.”
“We are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get yourself another one.”
An awkward smile emerged on his face.
“How much did you pay for this thing?”
“Three thousand,” he answered.
“Well, there is ten. Call yourself a cab, and go buy a better car outright.”
“Uh, okay,” he mumbled as he groped the large stack of hundreds in his hands.
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