by April Lust
I’m doing it, I realized. I’m getting away from him. Now I just have to find Nicolette! Oh, god— Nicolette! Where is she?
My truck shot down the street and I had to slap myself in the face to stay conscious after I breezed through a stop sign without even slowing down. I was close to the highway, and I already doubted my ability to drive all the way to the hospital. I looked as closely as I could as I drove through the quiet streets, but there was no sign of Nicolette anywhere. I even looked for the discarded sheet as I skidded around the corners of the sleepy little Utah town. But each empty street was another blow to my hope and confidence. If I couldn’t find her, if she’d gotten hurt, I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
A sudden sharp pain in my head made me squint and moan in agony. As the familiar sensation of blood pounding through my veins washed over me, I realized that I had a bad concussion. Everything was swarming and the road doubled in front of me, twisting to the right and left with alarming serpentine curves.
“Gotta hang on,” I groaned as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. The truck began to rock back and forth and I kept my foot on the gas pedal, pressed close to the floor. There was something big in front of me – something that looked a train. I squinted but the object didn’t move. A train, I realized. Maybe Nicolette’s on it! Maybe she saw the train!
I kept the truck moving forward, staring out of the windshield and praying for a miracle. The road kept twisting and snaking around but I managed to keep the truck righted, even as my vision blurred over.
When I felt the impact of the crash, Nicolette’s face flashed into my mind. Everything around me went black except for her radiant white smile, those big brown eyes. She was staring at me, all dressed in white. She kept reaching out and stroking me with her fingers.
“It’ll be okay,” Nicolette whispered soothingly. “Just hang on, Charlie. You can hang on for me.”
Chapter 24
Nicolette
The trucker stared back at me in shock. He was an older man – he almost looked my father, except with a stringy yellowish beard and a stained blue bandanna wrapped around his neck.
“What the hell happened to you?” He cleared his throat. “I mean…ma’am, are you okay?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I launched myself up and into the safety of his truck cab. The trucker stared as he realized I was wearing only a sheet. I’d tried to keep the loose ends wrapped around my body for the sake of modesty, but after running what felt like miles in the desert heat, I knew I was probably a disaster. My long brown hair was twisted into dirty clumps and my bangs kept flopping in my face. As I opened my mouth to speak, I began to shake and shiver in the truck of the cab. Relief washed over me in great hot waves and I let out a gasp as a fresh wave of tears started up.
“Ma’am, what the hell happened to you?” The trucker’s voice was soft and genuine. “Are you okay?”
I nodded miserably. “Can you please take me to the hospital? Please?” My voice came out as a hysterical whimper. “I’m pregnant, and I’m so worried about my baby. And my boyfriend – the father – he’s hurt! And I need to—”
“Shhh,” the trucker said soothingly. He reached over and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. I frowned until I realized what he was doing – groping for the seatbelt. As he pulled it over my body and clicked it into place, he sighed.
“Please help me,” I repeated. “There’s a man – a really bad man – and he’s coming after me. He could be right behind us. We need to go! We need to go, right now!” Frustration welled up inside of me as the trucker stared at me.
“Ma’am, are you sure I can’t just call the police? And let them handle it?”
“No!” I shrieked loudly. “Please! The hospital, please!”
The trucker nodded. He swallowed loudly, then shifted the truck into gear and we began to roll forward. As the ground underneath the semi rig began to disappear, I slumped back into the seat. I’m okay, I thought desperately. I’m okay, and nothing bad is going to happen to me. I’m okay.
Now that I was out of immediate danger, my thoughts turned back to Charlie. I cringed as I remembered him hunched over, beaten badly by Jack. I wished I could have done anything other than just leave him. I hadn’t wanted to go – he’d insisted! But that didn’t make me feel any better. We’d been so close to becoming a real family, and now I was terrified I’d never have a family again.
The trucker cleared his throat. “Ma’am, where did you come from? I swear, you just darted into the road! But this area here is real deserted. Did you hitch a ride out here? Shouldn’t do that,” he added. “It’s not real safe, you know. If you were my daughter, I wouldn’t want you out here doin’ that kinda thing.”
“I didn’t hitch,” I said softly. I wiped my cheek with the now-filthy corner of the sheet. “I live here. St. George, Utah.”
The trucker stared. He slowed down for a red light and I cringed internally, almost wanting to reach over and steer the truck through the intersection myself. “A cute little thing like you? Livin’ all the deserted way out here?”
“Well, it’s a long story,” I said slowly, willing the light to turn green. “I’m from California, actually. Carlsbad.”
The trucker laughed. “Shit, and you left California to come live out here?”
I managed to smile wryly even though my heart was beating a panicked, hasty rhythm in my chest. “By way of Colorado,” I said quietly. “This wasn’t…Well, it was kind of a quick decision to stay here,” I said. “But my boyfriend and I live in a cabin, probably a couple of miles from here.”
The man nodded. “And…Y’all had a fight or somethin’?” He snickered. “I know how those pregnancy hormones make women real nuts. My wife was the same way. She’d about have a crying fit every time she dropped a glass of milk when she was pregnant with our kids.”
It seemed easier to lie. “Yeah,” I said. I leaned over to the window and glanced into the side-view mirror. Blessedly, there was no one following us. I thought back with a shiver to the car I’d seen parked in the driveway of the cottage. It wasn’t a car I’d seen before – it was a newer model with a big engine and big tires. The kind of thing a man would drive if he wanted to intimidate someone. I had no doubt in my mind that Jack’s car could easily outpace Charlie’s truck.
I just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“Now, see here,” the trucker was saying idly as he guided the truck around a tight curve. “You’re real young, you need to get out and see the world before you get too tied down.” He chuckled. “My wife would say the same thing; she was always of the mind that girls had to get out and do a little walkin’ before they could settle down in some small town.”
I bit my lip until I tasted salty, metallic blood seeping into my mouth. “Well, I had kind of a hard time with things,” I said slowly. “I think I’ve had enough experience. I’m ready for a real quiet family life now.”
The trucker threw his head back and hooted. “Well, you’re gonna have your little family soon enough.” He glanced down at my belly. “How far along are you?”
I blushed. “Seven months,” I said. “Well, twenty-eight weeks.” I frowned. “I still don’t get why everyone says you’re pregnant nine months. You’re not – each of those months is like, four weeks!”
“Hang on,” the driver said sharply. When I glanced over at him, I saw that his posture was rigid. I screamed as I looked out the windshield. There was an old truck – Charlie’s old truck – directly in front of us.
I braced myself for the crash, pushing my hands against the dashboard and pushing myself back into the seat as powerfully as I could manage. The impact was still enough to suck the breath out of my body and I felt my torso fly forward, held in place by the nylon strap of the seatbelt.
I screamed, biting my tongue and tasting more blood. The truck shuddered, then screeched to a stop. When I opened my eyes, I was horrified. Charlie’s little old truck had been crushed against the grill
of the semi. There was fluid leaking from the hood and steam was rising rapidly from the point of impact.
The trucker was slumped over the wheel, muttering incoherently. I reached over and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him violently.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Hey, you gotta wake up now!” I shook him back and forth until my arm ached. “You gotta get my boyfriend out of that truck and take him to the hospital!”
The trucker didn’t respond. His eyes fluttered closed and he went silent. His breath was still coming, slow, and I realized with a feeling of dread that he wasn’t going to be able to help me any longer. If I wanted to save Charlie, I would have to do it myself.
Gritting my teeth, I fumbled with the seatbelt until it snapped open. My body slumped forward and a renewed sense of dread fluttered through my body when I realized the semi had risen off the ground, crushing the front of Charlie’s truck underneath. Pushing open the door, I leapt to the ground, crying out as the soles of my feet landed on the hot, jagged pavement.
The only sound I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears as I ran towards Charlie’s truck. Steam and grease were hissing from the engine and the air smelled foul, like burning rubber. Tears came to my eyes and I blinked them away, darting towards the driver’s side. I gasped when I saw Charlie, slumped over the wheel, eyes closed. The side window had broken in the crash and I reached in, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up my arm when the glass shards sunk into my soft flesh. Wrapping my hand around the door handle, I pulled the door open.
Charlie fell into my arms— Of course he hadn’t been wearing a goddamn seatbelt. But he was breathing; I could see his chest rising up and down hastily. His wrist was swollen and turning blue. I wondered if Jack had broken it, or if Charlie had hurt himself in the crash. There was so much blood on his face that I could barely look at his features, but I forced myself to glance him over and try to assess damage.
“Charlie, come on,” I grunted. “I need you to get moving. We gotta get to the hospital – come on. I got a truck, you just gotta come with me.”
Charlie groaned and shifted in my arms but he didn’t stir. Gritting my teeth, I pulled him out of the driver’s side and began hauling his body back towards the truck. He was heavy, but I felt stronger than I’d ever felt in my life. There was something powerful and hot running through my veins and I only had to listen to the sound of my heart beating to realize that I was enduring a powerful rush of adrenaline.
As I pulled Charlie back towards the truck, he groaned again. His mouth opened and I winced when I saw he had at least two broken teeth. His tongue was covered in blood, but his jaw seemed to be working. The blood on his face was mostly from a shallow-looking cut on his forehead; after I’d wiped the blood away, he looked much better, though still pale and sicker than I’d ever seen him. His close-cropped blonde hair was filled with blood and what looked like plaster dust, and I began to pray that I’d just be able to look into his green eyes again.
Please live. The air was silent and hot, aside from the steam hissing from Charlie’s truck. I couldn’t hear the roar of Jack behind us, but I knew he couldn’t be far behind. If Charlie had managed to give him the slip, even for a moment, I knew Jack was capable of catching up. Besides, he’d had that stooge with him – some kid sleeping in the car. I shuddered with fear as I thought about Jack finding Charlie and me on the road like this, bleeding and dazed and barely clothed.
The sheet slipped down the front of my body as I dragged Charlie closer to the truck. I was sweating like hell and it was hard to keep his body gripped tightly in my arms. My hands ached and my spine was screaming in pain but finally, I managed to get Charlie back towards the open passenger door of the rig. I climbed in first, then braced myself against the seat and pulled Charlie into the cab of the truck. His body flopped like a rag doll against the side of the truck and I cringed as his head whacked into the glass window.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I mumbled as I finished dragging him inside. “Sorry about your head. But I had to get you inside.”
The trucker was still unconscious. He was snoring slightly, like an infant, and his body was slumped against the steering wheel. A thin trickle of blood cascaded down his forehead. With all of my strength, I unfastened his own seatbelt and then dragged him towards me. The trucker was heavier than Charlie – I could feel my adrenaline rush leaving my body as I tightened my grip on his sleeves and yanked with all of my might. Gritting my teeth, I groaned and exhaled and pulled. Finally, the trucker’s body slid along the seat. Sweat was pouring down my forehead as I leaned the trucker against Charlie, strapped them both in, and climbed over the trucker’s body.
I’d never driven a rig before. Hell, I could barely even drive a stick. Jack always used to make fun of me, say I was a dipshit because I couldn’t manage to make a manual keep going without leaving the transmission on the road behind me. Fuck you, I thought as his face popped into my mind. I’m fucking done with you, Jack.
Grunting loudly, I managed to shift the truck into gear and pull away from Charlie’s truck. I groaned when I saw the damage; I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew Charlie would never be able to drive it again. The grill was completely flattened and the front axle was broken, with one wheel almost completely horizontal. A lump swelled up in my throat as I stepped down on the gas and drove around the truck, righting the rig on the road.
The hospital was only a little over a mile away. All I had to do was get there safely, and then everything would be okay. My heart was pounding as I fumbled with the controls of the big truck. Oddly, it felt kind of intuitive to drive. The wheel was so big that it grazed my thighs whenever I turned, and the bulb of the clutch fit perfectly into my fist.
The sound of a blaring horn made me jump into the air. For a moment, I thought it was my own doing and I pulled my hands away from the center of the rig’s steering wheel like it had burned me. Then I heard the horn again, and a shiver of fear went crawling down my spine. No, I thought desperately. No, please not Jack. Fear raced through my veins as I dared to glance in the side view mirror. Sure enough, the same car that had been parked in front of the cottage was following close behind. Jack was in the passenger seat, leaning with his head out of the window and shouting something unintelligible.
My gut twisted and cramped and I moaned, shifting around on the seat as I pressed my foot closer to the floor. The gas pedal yielded to my push and the rig shot forward. I could feel the truck gathering speed by the second. Jack’s car stayed close behind, swinging and swaying wildly on the road.
For a moment, I was tempted to hit the brakes hard. I wanted to see what would happen – whether or not Jack would crash into the truck. Then I looked down at Charlie. He was slumped over his side, his head resting on the unconscious trucker’s shoulder. A thin trickle of blood was dripping out of his mouth and down his chin, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. I saw dried blood caked around his nostrils and a fresh blast of anxiety billowed up inside of me.
I knew then that there was no way I could purposefully cause another crash. Charlie was obviously in bad shape and he needed a doctor desperately. I didn’t feel well either. I knew it was probably just the anxiety, but I had a twisting feeling in my gut that I couldn’t keep ignoring. It’s probably nothing, I told myself as I shot through an intersection. Jack was close on my heels; his car ran the red light and swerved behind the rig. I watched in horror as Jack leaned out of the window and waved his arm in the air.
I glanced down at my belly. I can’t let him find out that I have you, I thought to my baby. I can’t let him find out – then he’ll make our lives hell. We have to get away from him, and we have to stay away from him. Furthermore, I knew if I made Jack’s car crash into the back of my truck, it would be linked back to me. Terror whistled through my body as I thought of what would happen. Maybe Jack could use the crash to say I wasn’t a fit mother, that he was only anxious about the safety of his child. He’d tell them all about how I ran off and shacked up with some other g
uy while I was still pregnant. I shuddered. I knew abused women weren’t often treated well in the eyes of the law. It was always somehow their fault. I’d seen the documentaries, back when I’d still lived with Jack.
It was one of the reasons why I’d never tried to leave before I did. There was one special, I remembered, that had chilled me to the bone. A woman’s husband had started beating her after they’d had a child together. Before, he’d been the perfect gentleman: attentive, jealous whenever he felt like she wanted him to be, good in bed. A provider. And then as soon as she’d had a child, the tables turned. He’d turned abusive incrementally, first telling her she was stupid and worthless, then starting to beat her black and blue. She felt like she couldn’t leave him – she was a housewife who stayed home all day with the child. He constantly reminded her of that, that she’d never be able to make a living outside of the home.