by JC Szot
“I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said sarcastically.
“Well… I…”
He patted her knee. As fast as his hand landed, it was gone, back in his lap.
“Kidding, Muffin,” he smiled. “Just kidding.”
She hadn’t heard that nickname in a while. Mick had always called her Muffin. When they were younger, it angered her, but when Cara accepted that he would never let it go, she grew to like it. He’d used it less and less as the years passed. Tonight, with all the tension of their departure mounting, Cara now found it comforting.
“This bus will take us into Stroudsburg. After that, we’ll see,” Mick told her, shrugging. “No worries.” He shifted in his seat, reclining back for the ride.
Stroudsburg would be about five hours into the trip. Then what? Cara pressed the button on the armrest. Her seat eased back. Cara turned, gazing up at the sharp lines of Mick’s jaw.
“Then what?” she asked, vocalizing her thoughts. Mick turned, staring at her.
“We’ll see,” he repeated. Mick closed his eyes. Maybe he was making this up as they went along, a fake-it-till-you-make-it sort of thing.
Cara slept, feeling the vibrations of the bus’s engine beneath her feet. Night had fully fallen, blanketing the windows, the bus dark. Cara opened her eyes briefly, seeing the shadows of the other passengers as they slept, read, or worked on their electronic devices. She licked her lips, feeling a pasty thirst coat her mouth before dozing off again. A mixture of odors had ripened in the stuffy air. Stale perfume and the personal fragrances of others filled the bus.
****
Mick’s gentle nudge had her sitting up abruptly. Cara blinked the grogginess out of her eyes, her mouth parched for liquid.
“We’re bailing at the next stop. Make sure your stuff is together,” he told her. Mick stood, stretching as he reached up into the overhead compartment. He retrieved their packs and returned to his seat, setting them on the floor between his feet.
The hum of the bus’s engine downshifted as they slipped off the freeway and rounded the exit ramp. Cara put on her coat. She was tired and thirsty, but would refrain from complaining. Progress was painful, so she’d often been told. No pain, no gain.
The bus pulled up in front of the station. Large lights from outside lit up the interior. Drowsy passengers mumbled and groaned as they gathered their belongings.
A few straggling passengers loitered in front of the terminal. Cara twisted in her seat, trying to read the clock in the back of the bus above the bathroom door. It was almost 1 a.m.
When the bus came to a stop, Mick rose out of his seat, his face lined with seriousness.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yup, ready.” Cara stood, bracing herself between the seats. The engine cut off as people began to crowd the aisle. She gazed out the windows of the bus. Travelers lugged their carry-ons as they made their way inside the station, their expressions weary. An injected dose of reality raced through her, settling in her empty stomach. Things didn’t appear to look much better here.
Chapter Four
The terminal was deserted inside. Janitors worked at opposite ends mopping the floors. Cara told him she needed the ladies room. After she slipped through the door, Mick went to the men’s room.
He splashed cool water on his face and then shook his head like a drenched dog. He was beat, but needed to get with the program. Finding a motel would be a waste. The night was already half over, assuming check-out time would be by 10 or 11 A.M.
He ran his hands over his head. A dull ache began to throb at his temples, and he shook off the dread that he felt closing in around him like an annoying prowler. Mick grabbed a few paper towels out of the dispenser, shoved them into his pack, and reached for the door.
Cara stood near the vending machines, her pack slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were heavy, her ponytail rumpled. They’d have to sack out here until sun-up. It was the only option. The envelope he’d tucked all his money into was taped around his thigh. The adhesive burned, pulling on his body hair. He glanced at the vending machine and dug in his pocket for a few stray bills.
“Want a snack? Water or something?” he asked her.
“Yes, water … please,” Cara said through a stifled yawn.
Mick fed two dollars into the machine and made his selection. They wandered through the terminal and claimed a bench near a trash can.
They drank in silence, sharing a package of peanut butter crackers. Mick stared down the long expanse of the building, watching as one of the cleaning crew pulled his cart into the closet.
The older gentleman removed his smock, hanging it up on a hook, and then closed the door. The bus they’d taken had reloaded and slowly pulling away from the curb.
We need to crash for a while.
“Come on.” He tugged on Cara’s coat sleeve. She glanced up at him, popping the last cracker into her mouth, and stood.
“Where to?” She canted her head at him.
“I’ll show you.” Mick tipped his head in the direction of the janitorial closet.
They walked down the length of the terminal, the tiled floor gleaming. Mick scanned the terminal one last time and was relieved when he turned the knob and the door opened. He took Cara by the arm and steered her inside, quickly closing the door behind them.
Darkness fell between them. The sharp scents of bleach and ammonia burned his nose. Cara’s breaths echoed through the confined space.
“We need to rest, but paying for a room at this time of night is pointless…”
“We’ll only have to check out in a few hours,” she said, her tone raspy with fatigue. Mick was thankful that she was on the same page with him.
“Exactly, let’s just hang here and take a power nap.”
“It’s so dark.” Cara laughed. “I am tired, though.”
“If we put the light on, it could draw attention,” he said, explaining. “Let’s just try and sleep.”
He slid his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his. He guided them further into the closet, grunting when he felt the sharp edge of something jab him in the side. Clawing his way into a corner, Mick dropped his pack, pivoted Cara by the hips, and guided her to the floor. They jostled the cart again, hearing the supplies rattle.
“You okay?” Mick asked, holding his breath.
“I’m good. I hope I’m not resting my head against something gross, but I’m too tired to care,” Cara laughed.
Mick reached into the darkness. Cloth fibers grazed his hands.
“I think it’s a mop,” his tone questioning.
“I don’t care,” Cara said. Her words slowed, settling like snow.
Mick sat down next to her, listening to Cara’s breaths as they deepened and sleep consumed her. He couldn’t relax. That anonymous shadow continued to tease him. Mick knew it was his fear that tormented him. His mind raced in circles as he struggled to line up their next move in this dangerous game. I will win! His voice boomed inside his head.
The heat blew down on them from a vent above. He could smell her. Mick leaned into Cara’s space, careful not to hit her head that’d fallen on his shoulder.
A sweet scent—tropical, like coconuts—filled his nose. Mick rested his head back, leaning into something soft but not so pleasant-smelling, and shut his eyes, searching for any amount of sleep he could catch.
****
An amplified announcement had them both jolting awake. Mick’s eyes fluttered open, his bones stiff. He listened as a feminine voice came over the PA system, advising passengers who held tickets for the 6 a.m. departure to Hackensack, New Jersey, to prepare to board. Cara’s breathy voice moved through the thick, warm air.
“What time is it?” she asked. Her body stretched out, brushing against his.
“Not sure, but I think it’s time to get outta here,” he told her.
They rose to their feet, stumbling in the small space.
“Ouch!” Cara yelled. “Oh my God! What was that?”
> “What’s wrong? What happened?” Mick reached for her, fumbling through the darkness.
“Oh,” she cried. “It stings. Where’s the light? I need light,” Cara called out to him, frantic.
Mick stumbled through the darkness. Supplies clattered as he pushed his way toward the door. His hands scoured the wall for a switch. He quickly flipped on the light.
Brightness seared his eyes. Mick blinked, forcing to see through the floating white dots that hung in the air.
“Oh no,” Cara wailed. “What the hell!”
Mick’s jaw fell.
Cara’s forearm was sliced open. Blood poured down her flesh like a red road.
“Jesus Christ,” Mick gasped. His head spun. Every nerve in his body was now awake and stretched to its limit. His own blood rushed to his temples, pounding. “What the fuck!”
His eyes darted around the closet, landing on a utility knife that’d been jammed between two bottles of cleaning agents, its blade out of its casing.
Chapter Five
The blood rained down her forearm, hot and stinging. Cara stiffened with panic, unprepared to deal as she fought to emerge from what’d been a deep sleep.
Mick ransacked the supply cart. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper and quickly began unwinding the sheets. He pressed the tissue against her skin. Pain tingled down to her fingers. His rushing breaths hit her face. She raised her eyes to his.
“Is it deep?” Cara swallowed hard. She really didn’t have a strong stomach. She couldn’t even watch True Blood DVDs without having to peek through her fingers.
“I’m not sure. I don’t want to look. I just want to stop the bleeding,” Mick said, his words running together. His palm pressed over the wound. They both sagged into the wall. Silence grew between them, filling the air with questions.
Cara felt like an idiot. Here Mick decided to take her with him and now, within hours of embarking on their journey, she’d already become a liability. Mick’s angry words bit through the air.
“What fucking asshole would leave a utility knife open like that?” He pounded his fist into the wall. Cara met his eyes, glad she didn’t have to vocalize what they both knew was inevitable.
“We have to get this looked at.” His voice was now hoarse. His hazel eyes locked with hers, the green more dominant at this particular moment. His brow creased, his face slack with worry. “Come on. Let me help you with your coat.”
“Where?” Cara’s stomach lurched. How the hell will we pay for this? She knew how much money Mick had. Cara only had $115 with her. Leaving behind her last paycheck seemed foolish, but she certainly couldn’t have asked for it. What she had wouldn’t even cover the doctor’s bill.
The touch of Mick’s fingers on her chin felt alien. The calloused tip grazed over her skin as he directed her eyes to his face.
“This has to be dealt with. It could get infected, then where will we be? Don’t put a price on your safety … not ever.” His tone escalated, ringing out around them. His piercing eyes singed through her. “Now let’s go deal with this.”
They emerged from the closet, the terminal now bustling with people engaged in their morning commute. A woman in heels and a fur coat passed them briskly. Her brow lifted in question. Cara looked away and trailed behind Mick as he led them through clusters of people.
The line at the service desk snaked around the corner. Mick directed them toward the front entrance. He sat her down on a bench inside and told her to stay put.
Cara pressed on the wound that was now concealed by her jacket in hopes that the blood wouldn’t seep through. The pain had dulled into a slow and steady throb. She shifted in her seat.
Mick was outside talking to a man in a gray overcoat. He was searching on his smart phone, his briefcase on the sidewalk between them. They conversed briefly before Mick extended his hand in gratitude. As Cara watched him make his way back inside, she stood, grabbing her pack.
“I got him to call us a cab. There’s an urgent care center about five miles from here,” he said, his face smoothing. “How you holding up?” He straightened the collar of her coat, his eyes roving around her.
“It’s okay, not as intense,” Cara told him.
“Okay, well … hang in there,” he said softly, nodding.
****
“The total for today will be four hundred twenty-two dollars,” the receptionist informed him with a smile. Mick unrolled the bills in his lap. With each one he peeled off, his relentless, black-shrouded friend mocked him.
At least Cara is okay. I will not sacrifice her safety.
“Here is your receipt.” She slid it across the counter. “Um…” her brow wrinkled. “I’m assuming that you do not have coverage?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t,” Mick said, his admission hesitant.
“Come with me, please.”
She circled around the counter and directed him down the hall, the floors gleaming with sterility. Removing a set of keys from the pocket of her floral smock, she opened a supply closet door. After flicking on the light, she waved Mick inside, closing the door behind them.
“That wound needs to be kept clean,” she told him as she grabbed packages of first aid supplies off the shelves. After gathering what looked to be sample sizes of Neosporin and gauze bandages and tape, she stuffed them into a blue plastic bag. “Those stitches will dissolve on their own in a week or so. Your girlfriend should keep the wound dry and away from shower or bath water for the next forty-eight hours.”
She handed Mick the plastic bag, her smile warm. Mick’s chest sank, weighted with gratitude. I guess there are some decent people in this world.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Mick said, rubbing the back of his neck, the tension tight there.
“You’re welcome.”
****
Cara was waiting for him when they emerged from the supply closet. Mick helped her with her coat and then fed his arm through the handles of their packs and escorted Cara outside.
The world rushed around them. They needed to rest and regroup. The receptionist had probably just saved him about forty dollars in first aid supplies.
In the distance, on the other side of the interstate, was a small motor inn. Mick took in the scene, calculating how they could get there. The last thing he needed was to be busted by the state police for walking on the interstate.
A large cemetery filled the mountainside to the east. It looked as if there’d be a way to cut through the cemetery, enabling them to avoid the overpass and enter the motor inn from the rear, avoiding all the entrance and exit ramps.
Cara’s tired voice moved through his concentrated thoughts. “What’re you thinking?” she asked.
“We need to rest and refuel. Can you walk for a bit, say two miles or so?” He rested his hand on her shoulder, straightening her coat on her petite frame for the fiftieth time, feeling the need to fuss over her.
“Sure, lead the way.” she smiled.
“Great, come on.” Mick took her hand, wanting to touch a part of her. It was a good excuse, in light of the incident in the closet and the recent trauma of her stitches. Her fingers threaded through his. His heart tripped as his insides perked up, craving any type of contact he could get for the time being.
Chapter Six
“Where’re you going?” Cara asked, rolling over. The bed sank as Mick sat down next to her, zipping up his coat.
“I’m gonna go grab us something to eat. What’re you hungry for?” Mick put his wool hat on his head, pushing it back over his brows.
Cara didn’t want him spending any more money. The guilt over their unexpected medical bill was still sitting heavily on her shoulders. She met Mick’s eyes. His face was still, exhibiting an intense expression Cara didn’t think she should challenge.
“What about you?” She sat up, reclining against the pillows, wincing. She couldn’t use her arm freely. Stiffness vibrated through the achy tendons. The doctor said in a few days she wouldn’t feel any restrictions.
“The
re’s a diner close by … how about a burger?”
“God, that sounds good,” she smiled.
“Then a burger it is.” Mick stood, peering down at her. “Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’ll call out to you when I get back. And lock up behind me,” he said, his tone brusque.
“Will do.”
Cara crawled off the bed and engaged all three locks as soon as Mick stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The room was small, but clean. Gray tweed carpeting and dull white walls enclosed her. Two queen-size beds covered with pea-green spreads filled the space in front of a long dresser, an outdated TV on top.
A large vanity and sink was out in the open, a large mirror above.
Cara poked her head into the bathroom, flipping on the light. An overhead fan kicked on, sounding like an ailing jet engine. The shower stall was small. She really wanted a hot shower, but Mick told her she’d have to wait, needing to keep her sutures dry.
Cara paced the room, her stomach calling out into an eerie quiet. She was hungry, only having had a cruller and a few crackers since leaving Pittsburgh.
She sat down at the small table, fingering her after-care instructions, feeling restless. Mick had hushed her as soon as she brought up the cost of their visit to urgent care. It was obvious that he took her well-being very seriously and was not interested in discussing the money it’d cost him to get her stitched up.
Cara didn’t want to burden him, as if he had a child in tow, yet his consideration was touching. Mick was often hard to read. Now that it was them together and no one else, Cara found herself preoccupied with learning the deeper facets of Mick’s personality that Cara knew she hadn’t been exposed to, even after all these years.
Though they’d been friends since childhood, there were things she didn’t know. Did he date? She’d never seen him with a girl, but that didn’t mean that he … she felt the heat push through her skin. The fact that he genuinely cared for her was more than she’d ever had from anyone.
If you lived in The Hollow, you were limited to your own kind. That’s just the way it was. If you didn’t find love or companionship on the inside, then you were alone. Is that why he wanted to leave?