You Better Run

by Rowan Hanlon

  Clara said, without hesitation, “Burn him.”

  And so they did. He was put into the hole and then the gasoline he’d bought for them was poured over his body and Hadley, Sloan and Clara each stuck a match and threw it on top of him. They pulled back as the flame went up high, coming out of the hole.

  As he burned, they cleaned his blood from the floor, throwing the old rug into the hole with him and cleaned the house of any evidence they might have left behind and, once the fire began to die down a few hours later, they shoveled the dirt from the pile he’d left at the side on top of him. Once he was completely covered, they stomped on the ground, packing it in.

  And then they were done. Then it was getting to be daylight.

  “Oh, look,” Hadley said and pointed to the sky.

  Clara turned and saw the sky light up in beautiful pink, orange brilliance. She drew her breath in at its beauty and they all stood and watched the sun rise, giving the Earth so much warmth and hope it was awe inspiring.

  “Is everyone okay?” Sloan asked.

  Clara nodded. “I am, actually, more than okay.”

  Sloan nodded and turned to Hadley. “What about you?”

  “Me, too,” she said and smiled. “It’s almost like we just got finished with an awful chore, you know, and now it’s over.”

  “Let’s all go back to my house,” Clara said.

  “I’d really love some breakfast,” Sloan said. “Let’s stop somewhere to eat.”

  Clara laughed at her. “Girl, you are covered from head to toe in dirt, blood and gunpowder. I can’t take you out like that.”

  “I do need a shower,” Sloan said and laughed. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe that happened!”

  “You saved us,” Hadley said.

  “We saved each other,” Sloan said. “I just thank God I listened to my gut on this one. I just knew something was wrong. I just knew it.”

  “He said you were too smart for your own good,” Clara told her.

  “I am smart,” Sloan said. “But not for my own good.” She paused and considered something. “I’m just glad that asshole stopped to get something to eat. Otherwise, I would not have made it. My car was about empty.”

  They laughed and headed out to their cars. Once they got there, Sloan got into her SUV and Hadley and Clara got into her car. As they drove, Hadley’s cell rang. She dug it out of her purse, then shook her head.

  “It’s Huck,” she told her. “He’d going to give me some hell.”

  Her words made Clara burst out laughing.

  “What is it?” Hadley asked her.

  “It’s just a little funny right now, that’s all,” she said, then waved her hand. “Pick up! Pick up! You don’t have to make him wait any longer.”

  Hadley eyed her then picked up, then listened to Huck chastise her a little, then told him she’d be home later, as Clara wanted her to stay a while longer and take her shopping at a few of her favorite stores. Once she finally hung up, she turned to her and said, “Now I know why people get so irritated being married.”

  Clara cracked up, then realized she’d do anything to have Ray chastise her like that. But that was never going to happen and, someday, she realized, she’d be able to let that go.

  In a few hours, Clara pulled into her driveway, with Sloan right on her bumper. Inside, they each took a long shower and Clara found them all new clothes, then took their dirty ones and threw them in the washer. And then they all went out for breakfast at a nearby restaurant that served breakfast all day. As they ate, the waitress came up and started chatting with them. Apparently, she didn’t recognize any of them from TV and asked Clara and Hadley, “What happened to your faces?”

  Clara glanced at Hadley, at her bruised and swollen nose, then touched her own, which ached. “It was stupid,” she said. “We were at my house in the kitchen and we turned at the same time and bumped into each other, busting each other’s noses.”

  “It was your fault,” Hadley told her.

  “It was your fault,” Clara said, smiling at her. “If you’d just kept moving, we could have avoided it.”

  “You ran into me,” Hadley said.

  “Fine, I ran into you,” Clara said and turned to the waitress.

  The waitress nodded, then touched the side of her face. “What is that scar on your face, girl? I just now noticed that.”

  Clara stared at her, realizing that it was good that someone didn’t know about that evil bastard. And so, she said, “Oh, I got this because I actually walked into a hook, you know, a tack hook, in the barn where I have my horse.” She smiled at the waitress and said, “I really need to get some glasses.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re accident prone,” she told her.

  Sloan cracked up, shaking her head. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Shut up,” Clara told her, laughing, too.

  “Well, hell, that’s awful, girl,” the waitress said and pulled out their check from her pocket and ripped it up. “For that, breakfast is on me.”

  Clara smiled at her. “Thank you,” she said.

  “No problem and if any of you want to-go cups, just let me know,” she said.

  “We will,” Hadley told her and took a sip of her sweet tea. “You know, this is some of the best sweet tea I’ve ever had.”

  Clara smiled at her, then noticed Sloan giving her an odd look. “What is it, Sloan?” she asked.

  She started to say something, then paused, then said with a smile, “It’s like we’re normal.”

  “We are normal,” Clara said. “Now we can be normal.”

  Hadley said, “I like the idea of being normal.”

  “Me, too,” Clara responded and took another sip of her sweet tea. She smiled at the taste and for once in a very, very long time, she felt at ease with herself, her friends and her world. She felt normal.

  And normal was a very, very good thing. Excellent, even.