by Tate, Harley
Keith’s lips puckered involuntarily like he’d bit into a lemon. “Never got the hang of that, myself. Buses and trains work just fine if you ask me.”
“Not anymore.” Owen twisted away from the gift cards and stared out at the round racks of T-shirts, sweaters, and jackets all emblazoned with photos of 1950s Hollywood. A poster of Marylin Monroe hung above a glass shelf full of ceramic knickknacks, and the arms of an Elvis clock moved to tell the time above a shelf of snow globes.
So many trinkets.
“You think anyone in Canada would buy this stuff?” Across the store, Jerry held up a James Dean Chia Pet. “We could load up a bunch of it and sell it when we cross the border.”
Keith shook his head. “We are not filling the back of the van with tchotchkes.”
Although he’d only known Jerry and Owen for a week, exigent circumstances forced a friendship to solidify in record order. They might not have gotten along in the world before—especially not Jerry with his curmudgeonly ways and Owen with his love of all things new and tech-related—but none of that mattered now. They were in this together.
Pain shot down Keith’s leg as he stepped toward the door. A wince slipped past his lips and he fumbled for the edge of the display cabinet.
“You all right?”
Sweat bloomed across his forehead, but Keith nodded. “As long as this bandage holds, I’ll be fine.”
Owen pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can find you a place to sit. Maybe even a place to sleep for the night if you just want to relax.”
Keith bit back a complaint. Owen meant well, but Keith hated being an invalid. He forced his weight back onto his injured leg and took another step. “I can manage.”
“You don’t need to be a hero.”
“I’m not trying to be.” Even though he said the words, they rang hollow. Keith wasn’t trying to be a hero exactly, but a solid, stand-up guy? Sure. Someone Lainey could rely on to see her through? Definitely.
He clamped his jaw shut and took a few halting steps away from the counter and into the store. With Lainey searching the kitchen and Jerry searching the shelves lining the wall, Keith headed to the circular racks of clothes. Still using Jerry’s baseball bat as a cane, he hobbled around the racks, flipping past T-shirts and sweatshirts printed with the diner’s name and photo.
After a few minutes of painful searching, he was rewarded with a rack of pullover fleece jackets with only a small, embroidered Yermo, California on the front. He pulled enough off the rack for all of them and cradled them under his arm as he inched back toward the front of the store.
Owen stopped him on the way. “Any luck?”
Keith held up the bundle of jackets. “Got one for each of us.”
“What about jeans?”
“If you don’t mind Elvis’s face stamped on the pockets, there are a ton.”
Owen’s mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”
“Still might be better than mine.” Keith nodded at the belt tightened to the last loop around Owen’s waist. “You could do with a backup pair, too. Just in case.”
Owen sobered. “You’re right. These might be the last clothes we find for a while.” He looked past Keith toward the clothing racks. “Can I get you anything?”
Keith shook his head. Everything he needed to get by was already in the van thanks to their stop at his apartment and the animal control facility. Spare clothes, antibiotics, and food should last him until Canada.
As Owen headed toward the clothing racks, Keith kept moving, working his way toward the front door and the van beyond.
Lainey met him in front of the life-size Betty Boop. “There’s a ton of food in the kitchen about to go bad.”
Keith huffed the load of jackets onto the counter. “There’s plenty of clothing in the store.”
She eyed the jackets. “Anything else that’s not covered in Marylin Monroe’s face or Elvis’s torso?”
“A few.” He nodded toward the racks. “Owen is searching. You should, too. A change of clothes could come in handy.”
Lainey’s brow knit. “I don’t feel right taking all this. It’s one thing to eat the food about to spoil, but the merchandise?” She shook her head. “It’s stealing.”
At some point, Lainey would have to understand the world they now lived in. The one they needed to escape, and quickly. But arguing the point now would get him nowhere. He hedged. “We can leave some cash on the counter if it makes you feel better.”
“You really think American money is still worth anything?”
Keith leaned against the hostess counter and closed his eyes against the pain. “Then what would you have us do, Lainey? We need clothes. Food. A map. Gas. If we don’t pay for them with paper money, what do we pay with?”
Her voice came out small and insecure. “I don’t know.”
“No one else does, either.” Keith opened his eyes and straightened up. “And a lot of those people are going to take and not look back.”
“I don’t have to be one of them.”
Not yet. Keith managed a sad smile. “If you won’t look through the clothes, then show me where this food is at. I could use something to eat.”
They made their way to the kitchen together and assembled all the food not already rotten. It was a veritable feast of fruits, vegetables, and bread products. Lainey set everything out in a buffet on the counter and heaped two plates with rolls, apples, and a pile of raw broccoli. She carried them into the dining room as Keith hobbled behind her.
As they hunkered down before their plates, Jerry and Owen emerged from the store.
Lainey waved them over. “I pulled out all the food. You can make yourselves a plate in the kitchen.”
“Any chance there’s dessert?”
Keith jerked his head toward the kitchen and spoke around a mouthful of roll. “Found a vat of cherry pie filling on the bottom shelf.”
Owen grimaced. “That stuff’s just dye and sugar.”
Jerry patted his stomach. “Exactly what the doctor ordered.” He took off as Owen shook his head.
“What’s that in your hand?” Lainey pointed at a bundle of paper beneath Owen’s arm.
He handed it over. “A map. Looks like last year’s, but it should get the job done. All fifty states.”
Keith swallowed and shoved his plate aside. “Good find.”
Owen nodded in thanks and headed for the kitchen as Keith opened the oversized booklet and found California. He twisted it so Lainey could see and snaked his finger along I-15 from Victorville into Nevada and on north, flipping pages as he went, until he found Utah. “It’s just like I thought. We can head north all the way to Utah, catch I-70 east toward Colorado, and then pick up I-80 to make it to Chicago.”
Lainey’s brow pinched. “Are you sure we want to drive through Las Vegas?”
Keith shrugged. “We have to go through cities sometime. And it can’t be worse than Los Angeles, can it?”
Chapter Three
KEITH
Bonnie Rae’s Diner
Yermo, CA
Friday, 4:30 a.m. PST
Keith grunted as he stood to his full height, using the back of the booth as leverage. No matter how he shifted, comfort and sleep evaded him. After standing in the dark for a few moments, allowing his eyes to adjust to the lack of light, he reached for Jerry’s bat.
Bear whined softly beside him in the dark.
“You, too, huh?” Keith smiled down at the pale shape of his dog clambering down from the bench seat across the table. “Well, come on then, and be quiet about it.”
Bear favored his wounded shoulder as he walked over to stand beside Keith. He would never forgive himself for allowing Bear to get hurt. That dog meant more to him than anyone apart from Lainey. He was thankful it appeared to only be a soft tissue injury and nothing more serious.
As Keith hobbled toward the rear door of the diner, Bear kept pace beside him, padding silently across the linoleum. They eased past a sleeping Lainey, stretched
out on three diner chairs pushed together, and Owen curled up in a booth with the pound cat purring away in the crook of his arm.
Keith shook his head. He’d never understand cats.
They neared the rear door and Keith stepped out first, surveying the fake grass and empty moat, before opening the door again for Bear. The dog eased out and trotted away from the building to relieve himself around the corner. Keith propped the door before hobbling toward the bench a few feet away.
He made it four laborious steps before he froze. Gravel crunched behind him. Either Bear had snuck back around without him noticing, or someone else was outside. A moment later, the unmistakable circle of a gun barrel pressed into his shoulder blade.
Keith twisted.
A voice hissed. “Don’t move.” Low, gravelly. Definitely male. Beyond that, Keith couldn’t discern anything more.
He lifted his free hand, cursing at himself for failing to bring the gun. “I don’t want any trouble.” He squinted into the dark, searching for Bear. If the dog growled or attacked, would this stranger shoot him?
“Who else is with you?”
Keith swallowed. “No one. I’m alone.”
“Bullshit.” The gun pressed harder into his flesh. “How many?”
Keith refused to tell the truth. “Too many for you and they’ve got guns. Lots of guns. You’re lucky you aren’t dead already.”
The barrel eased off his shoulder. “Then why aren’t you armed?”
“Didn’t think I needed a gun to take a piss.” Keith’s palm slicked with sweat where he gripped the round cap of the bat. He weighed the odds of swinging it now and catching the other man off guard. Without sizing him up, it could be a death wish. He had to wait until a better opportunity. “What do you want?”
“Leverage.” A hand wrapped around his bicep.
Keith tensed. “We don’t have anything. Not even gas.”
“You’ve got everything in that store.”
“We just got here. You could have broken in all week.”
The fingers flexed. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve got no reason to lie. Besides, have you ever been inside? It’s not worth getting killed over.” Keith twisted his head, straining to catch a glimpse of the man in the dark. “Just let me go and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
A callous laugh echoed. “Right. And you won’t chase me down and shoot me for the trouble.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“That don’t mean jack now.” The grip around his arm tightened again. “Come on. We’re takin’ a little walk.” The man tugged him and Keith faltered. As he stumbled forward, his leg buckled, sending him half to the ground. The stranger hauled him up with surprising force.
“Sorry.” Keith let the pain of his wound warble his voice. Maybe if the man underestimated him… “I’m injured.”
“Don’t care what you are.” The man pulled him along, half-dragging Keith toward the parking lot. Memories of crime shows he used to watch when he still dated Lainey floated to the surface of his mind.
The number one rule in surviving a violent attack was to never allow a relocation. As soon as a perp moved a victim, the chances of that victim making it out alive dimmed considerably. Keith wasn’t going to be another tally in the list of dead bodies thanks to the attack on America.
He hitched the bat up higher in his hand, trading in the round end for the textured grip. “Where are we going?”
“Away from here.”
Not the answer Keith wanted to hear. He resisted the man’s efforts as much as he dared without ripping the bandage holding his wound together. With every step, pain lanced his leg. He puffed out a breath through gritted teeth.
What was he waiting for? The guy to drag him halfway to Nevada before he made a move? It was now or never. Before he could second guess himself, Keith pulled back, all of his weight shifting to his injured leg. His vision dimmed with the pain, but he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his wits.
“Stop delaying. Or do you have a death wish?”
Maybe. Keith tightened his grip on the bat and counted in his head. One. Two. Three. He lifted the bat and swung, putting as much weight into the movement as he could manage. The fat middle of the bat collided with the man’s chest and his grip on Keith’s arm loosened.
Keith stumbled forward, free arm wind-milling as he struggled to stay standing. He used the bat to stop his fall as the butt of the handle dug into his stomach. He leaned over, face perilously close to the ground, but at last he found purchase. He hauled himself up, gasping for air as he struggled to hold onto the bat with both hands. He swung again in a wild arc, but caught nothing but air.
The sound of a gunshot cracked across the desert. A bullet pierced the dirt no more than an inch from Keith’s foot. He froze.
“That’s enough of that.” The man strode forward. “Hand me the bat.”
Keith hesitated.
“Now or the next shot won’t miss.”
Keith turned. The man stepped forward and a gun emerged from the gloom, moonlight coursing down the barrel as it loomed in front of Keith’s face. Huge and ominous, the piece was practically a hand cannon. One shot would blow his head to bits all over the dirt and gravel.
A wooden bat was no match for a gun like that. Keith twisted the bat in his hands and tipped the handle toward the man.
The gun lowered as the man reached out to grab the bat, but a silent ball of fur and anger collided with the man’s arm. Bear! The dog growled as his teeth dug into flesh.
Keith surged forward. He couldn’t let his dog shoulder his weight in this fight. He ignored the pain and dove for the gun. His fingers wrapped around the barrel and the meaty flesh of thick fingers and Keith dug his nails in, drawing blood as the stranger jerked back and forth in an attempt to free himself from Bear.
The man’s finger still hugged the trigger and Keith fought to keep the gun barrel out of his direct path as they stumbled backward in the dirt. Bear jerked his head back and forth like the man’s arm was an animal he needed to kill. Cries echoed in the desert as Bear tore the man’s skin. He stumbled again, dragging Keith with him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and cold metal.
A hot burst of pain spread across Keith’s wounded leg as he hit the ground, followed by a rush of warmth. He wrenched the gun, twisting and kicking as Bear went for the man’s throat. At last, Keith pulled hard enough to dislodge the stranger’s fingers. The gun slipped and bobbled in his sweat-soaked palms and Keith caught it a foot before the ground. He fell onto his backside heaving and panting.
“Bear, enough!” He called out to the dog still snarling and biting the man’s arm. “I’ve got it from here.”
Reluctantly, his dog released the stranger and backed up into the dirt. Keith sat on the ground, wounded leg stuck out in front of him, as he pointed the gun at the man’s chest. “Don’t move.”
He reached out with his free hand and motioned for Bear to approach. He gave the dog a pat before leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Go find Lainey. Go find her, Bear.”
The dog took off toward the diner and Keith exhaled. They’d been so very lucky. He wiped at the sweat and dirt coating his face as the man scooted back half a foot. “I said don’t move. I can blow a hole through your chest with this piece and don’t think I won’t.”
“Why don’t you do it already and save yourself the trouble.” Pain laced the man’s words as he slid back another foot.
Keith was losing more than patience. If Bear didn’t manage to alert someone inside, and soon, he was liable to pass out. Adrenaline would only counteract the pain from his wound for so long, and the more he sat still, the more it abated. A shiver ran down his back as his body cooled and his sweat soaked through his shirt. “Where were you headed?”
“Like I’m telling you.”
“Are there more in your group?”
The man didn’t answer, opting instead to scoot farther away into the dark. Keith took aim. His hand visibl
y shook. Could his assailant see it in the dark? A chill chattered his teeth and he clamped his jaw tight to control the shake. “St-stop m-movin—”
The sound of a revving engine and squealing tires drowned out Keith’s words. A pair of taillights flashed red near the road and before Keith could react, the man scrambled away into the darkness.
A moment later, a door to the car flew open and interior light spilled out onto the gravel and dirt parking lot. Keith brought up both hands, wincing as he leaned forward to aim. A huddled shape piled into the car and Keith fired. The door slammed shut.
He fired again.
The taillights blinked out and the engine revved. Within moments, the stranger and the car were gone. Keith fell back on his elbows, the fight inside him gone and replaced by a combination of exhaustion, fear, and pain. I should have shot him when I had the chance.
He sagged all the way back onto the hard ground and stared up at the sky. A blanket of stars shone through wisps of clouds, and Keith struggled to stay awake. One breath. Then another. His eyelids fluttered. I’ll only close my eyes for a moment. The second the stars disappeared, the darkness swallowed him whole.
Chapter Four
LAINEY
Bonnie Rae’s Diner
Yermo, CA
Friday, 5:00 a.m. PST
Something cold and wet slicked across Lainey’s face and she batted it away. The middle chair beneath her squeaked as she rolled over and her knee slammed into the padded back.
A squishy, cold jab against her neck forced her eyes open. The dark interior of the diner cast shadows across her face. She rolled only to come within an inch of the moist black nose of a golden retriever. “Eww. Bear, not in my face.” She pushed the dog back but he refused to move, jabbing at her face again with his nose.
Lainey sat up, smoothing her tangled hair. She felt like she’d been hit by a truck. The days of not sleeping and running on adrenaline had caught up to her at last. What time is it? She squinted at her watch, but couldn’t make out the hands in the dark.
