Bylines & Deadlines

by Kimberly Vinje

  The wall and doors to the fitness center were glass. She slowed and made sure Jack was no where in sight. There was a young lady, maybe in her early 20s on the elliptical machine reading a magazine and listening to an MP3 player. A man near her age was using the nautilus equipment. They were probably a couple, she thought. There was an older gentleman on the recumbent bike reading a book. Megan walked in and avoided eye contact. She picked up a clean towel from a stack against the wall. She put the ear buds into her ears, took the iPod off hold, pushed the button, and rolled the dial to crank the volume. She climbed onto one of the two treadmills and adjusted the speed. She started out at a fast walk. After a few minutes of walking, she increased the speed so she was jogging. A few more minutes passed, and she increased the speed so she was running. She focused her eyes at a spot on the mirror so she didn’t have to look at herself or anyone else. She ran.

  She used the towel to wipe her face periodically. Motion too close to her startled her. She glanced around in the mirror.

  “Miss?” a young man in shorts and a t-shirt said. She hit the button on the treadmill and slowed to a walk. She pulled one of the ear buds from here ear.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, but the center closes at nine. I just wanted to let you know you have less than 15 minutes,” he said. She looked at the clock on the wall and then at the timer on the treadmill. She had been running for over an hour and a half.

  “Okay, thanks. I’m finishing up anyway,” she walked for a few minutes and climbed off the treadmill. A couple of years ago, she used her gym shoes to get her from city street to city street. She never dreamed of exercising like this. She found a place to stretch. Unfortunately for her life and fortunately for her health, this wasn’t the first time she’d let her mind go blank and lost track of time on a treadmill. She was mad at herself for doing it in a strange place, though. Usually, she was in the security of her living room.

  She left the fitness center and took the stairs back to the third floor. Quietly and carefully, she peeked through the door and looked down the hall. There was a couple waiting for the elevator. Other than that, she had a clear path to her room. She walked to her room and let herself in. The lights were on, of course, and she took a quick survey to make sure no one was hiding in the closet. She shook her head in disgust of her paranoia. She stripped off her clothes and took a hot shower.

  She dressed in her jeans and a sweatshirt and called for room service. After an hour and a half of running, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about ordering the cheeseburger and fries. Plus, she thought to herself, she had ordered a diet drink and three bottles of water. She smiled and mumbled, “Female logic.” She dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

  She spent time savoring the burger and fries while she mindlessly flipped through the TV stations. By 11, she was ready to go to bed.

  * * * * *

  A knock on the door woke her. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep. Maybe it wasn’t a knock. She shivered. Another knock. She realized the room was dark and reached for the lamp. She never slept in a dark room. Then she noticed the chill in the room. “Hold on,” she called as she stumbled out of the bed. She flipped the light switch by the door on and off and on and off. Nothing. She didn’t know if she should be afraid. “Who is it?”

  “Jack.” Came a familiar voice. She hesitated for a second. “Come on. Open up.” She shivered again and spontaneously opened the door. Maybe she was too cold to be cautious. She squinted from a blast of light. It didn’t come from the hall, but a single light source. “Sorry,” Jack said and moved the flashlight away from her face.

  “No. I’m the one who should apologize,” she said leaning on the door. “I was out of control before. Why is it so cold?”

  “The electricity’s out because of the snow and the generator won’t kick on for some reason. I brought you these,” he said as he extended a couple of blankets and a flashlight. She took them and cleared her throat.

  “Um, thank you, but don’t you need these?” He shook his head. His hair was ruffled as though he too had been sleeping in the time that had passed since she flew into her rage. He had on what looked like a dark blue t-shirt and plaid flannel pants with a drawstring at the waist. He held his flashlight as she stood in the doorway with the supplies.

  “No, I got extra for you. They’re handing them out downstairs to anyone who wants them. I took a chance you hadn’t noticed the cold yet.” She was touched by the genuine tone in his voice.

  “But, I was so mean to you,” she said. “Why would you be nice to me?” He looked down at the floor for a minute. She could tell he was considering his answer.

  “Well, obviously something terrible happened to you. Maybe I’m trying to restore your faith in mankind. Maybe it’s my job to protect you,” he said. “I’m really not a bad guy.”

  “I’m so sorry about before. I tend to get defensive sometimes,” she said and smiled at him as if to wave a white flag. The cold cut through her. She hugged the blankets to her and added, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a very long time.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be,” he said quietly and paused. “Uh, the manager said it should only be another half hour before they get the generator running. There’s a fire and some people in the lobby keeping warm if you want to go down.”

  “Oh, if it’s only going to take a little while longer, I may try to sleep through it,” she said not wanting to get dressed and listen to a bunch of people who didn’t know the meaning of having a difficult life whine about the conditions.

  “Okay. If you need anything, give me a call. I’m right down the hall,” he said as he pointed his flashlight in the direction of his room. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He turned to follow the flashlight.

  “Um, Jack,” she called in a shaky voice with a hint of desperation. She wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth next. He stopped and turned toward her.

  “What if they don’t get the generator going soon?” she asked.

  “Uh, I don’t know,” he said with a look of confusion. This was her last night here, she thought. Her last shot at doing something spontaneous and wild, and her last chance to make a memory to last her a lifetime.

  “It could get even colder, couldn’t it?” she asked.

  “I guess,” he said taking a step back toward her.

  “Would you like to come in…here…with me?” she offered nearly crying as she spoke. “We could keep each other warm,” she said trying to put reason behind her words. She was too afraid and unsure of herself to sound seductive. Jack gave her a weak smile.

  “But that would make me exactly what you accused me of being,” he replied. “I think I better go back to my room.” She felt a tear fall down her cheek and hoped he hadn’t seen it. Now she was embarrassed beyond words but slightly relieved. “Goodnight,” he said and turned away.

  She closed the door, went back to bed and huddled under the covers. At first she felt embarrassed by her brazen question. Then she felt hurt he’d rejected her. Finally, she was mad. He was the one who had come after her in the bar. The lights flickered on and the heat began to pump through the room. She hadn’t offered herself to a man in what seemed like two lifetimes. Forget him, she thought. He’s not worth the effort. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking…that was the problem. That was the last time that would happen, she thought to herself.

  Her mind raced through the night, and she felt relief when the sun started to peek through the gap in the blackout curtains. She was going home today. Although she took comfort in the thought she would be returning to her familiar surroundings, she felt like she was returning to prison. She also felt like she squandered her weekend pass.

  Chapter Eight

  The new snow was beautiful, she decided as she gazed out her window. She had already showered and called the front desk to find out when the first shuttle left for the airport. She pulled herself away from the winte
ry scene, put her hair dryer in her bag and zipped it. Taking one last look around the room, she checked out using the remote control on her TV. She left the key on the desk, put her backpack on her shoulder, grabbed her other bag and left the room.

  She took the stairs to avoid the people standing at the elevators. In the lobby, she asked the young man behind the desk to keep her bag and send someone into the dining room to get her when the shuttle arrived. She peeked into the restaurant to make sure Jack wasn’t there before she went in to get some breakfast and find a table.

  Once she found the most secluded table, she ordered a cup of coffee, a bagel and some fruit. She sat facing the door so she would see him before he saw her. Moments from the weekend played through her head over and over again.

  Jack walked into the dining room about 10 minutes after Megan had finished her breakfast. He looked tired, and she was glad. The clerk from behind the front desk startled her. A shuttle was ready. She waited for Jack to sit down before she made her move for the door.

  She stood up, put her backpack on her shoulder and kept her eyes on the door. She tried not to move too quickly as to draw attention to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack stand. She moved faster. He called her name, but she kept walking.

  There was a person standing at the front desk blocking her from getting her bag. She swayed eagerly, but Jack caught up to her while she waited.

  “Megan, please wait. I need to talk to you,” he said taking her arm. She pulled away and ignored him. “Please, Megan.”

  She managed to quietly say, “Don’t do this to me. Just let me go.”

  “I can’t,” he said. The man in front of her finished his business and moved away.

  “Hi. Can I get my bag please?” she said to the clerk. The clerk handed her the duffle bag, and she started for the van. Jack quickly got his bag from the clerk and ran out after her.

  The van driver loaded her stuff in the back of the maroon van as she went around the side, got in and slammed the door behind her hoping it would lock automatically. It didn’t. Jack opened the door and climbed into the bench seat behind her. Now she felt trapped. The van driver got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “Wait! I want to get out,” she said sliding across the seat. Jack and Megan were the only two passengers on the van.

  “Then I do, too,” Jack said. Defeated, she slammed herself back into the seat and turned her head to look out the window.

  “Are we coming or going?” the driver asked looking in the rearview mirror.

  “Coming with you,” she grumbled. She dug through her backpack for her iPod and put on the earphones to try to drown out his voice.

  “What about you?” the driver asked Jack.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” he said, and the man put the van into gear and pulled out from the curb. Jack touched Megan’s shoulder, but she jerked away from him. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Can’t hear you,” she said but then pulled out the ear buds. “Hurt me?” she snorted. “I think you over estimate yourself.”

  “Look, you don’t know the whole story,” Jack said and looked toward the driver. “I need to talk to you in a more….a more private setting.”

  “No second chances,” she said folding her arms in front of her chest.

  “Just let me talk and you listen. When you hear what I have to tell you, you’ll understand everything.” She looked out the window and noticed they were going a little fast for the sharp downhill curves and fresh snow fall.

  “Are you married?” she asked softly and distantly.

  “No,” he said.

  “Life threatening illness?”

  “No.”

  “Sexually transmitted disease?”

  “No,” he laughed.

  “Gay?”

  “No.”

  “Not attracted to me?”

  “Oh hell no!”

  “Well, what is it then?” she asked irritated. Suddenly, they were both thrown up against the glass window as the driver took a sharp corner at a high rate of speed.

  “Hey, put your seatbelt on,” Jack said. Megan immediately wanted to do the opposite of what Jack told her, but the van seemed to be going a little fast so she did it anyway. The driver took another curve too quickly, and Jack slid across the van seat. “Do you want to slow down a little bit up there?”

  “Just doing my job, Jack,” the driver said. She heard Jack mutter the words “son of a bitch” as he flashed past her eyes and flew over her seat toward the driver. Megan sat up in her seat. Jack was fighting with the driver for control of the van as they swerved back and forth on the roadway.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she screamed at the men as they struggled for control of the van. She tried to grab at Jack to pull him back. “You’re going to get us all killed!”

  Jack punched the driver so hard blood spattered on the window. The van picked up speed as Jack tried to pull the driver away from the wheel. Megan screamed, “Stop it!” She couldn’t see the road because they blocked her view out the windshield. She heard a crash, and the next thing she felt was weightlessness. The two men were still fighting as the van flew off the side of the road. The only thing she could think to do was get into the crash position as they instruct you to do on planes, so she put her head between her knees and covered her head with her hands. She closed her eyes.

  * * * * *

  When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure where she was or how she got there. She was on her side with her head in snow. She looked around and moved slowly. She remembered flying through the air. She tasted blood. Everything was quiet. She lifted her hand, which had blood on it.

  “Jack?” she said in a whisper, still trying to find her voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Jack,” she said louder this time. What if he was dead? She panicked. She unhooked her seat belt and tried to figure out which way she should go to get out of the van. She made her way toward where the windshield had been and saw the driver pinned against the steering wheel. She climbed to him and shook his arm. “Mister?” She pulled him away from the steering wheel, and the cold dead eyes from the bar flashed in front of her. She started shaking. She had an eerie feeling that everything was starting again. She scrambled to get away from it. She climbed out of the van, slicing her hand on broken glass in the windshield and scratching her face on a tree limb that was hanging from it. She fell out into the snow and started to crawl gagging for air. The cold snow and a drop of blood from her face brought her back to her senses. She turned onto her rear and took in the incredible mess that was once the van. She was surprised she made it out alive. What about Jack? She struggled to stand in the snow and slowly walked back to the van. She saw the dead man and shivered. She searched the wreckage next to him and didn’t see any sign of Jack. She glanced back where she had been sitting and nothing. What if he was pinned under the van? She heard something and quickly looked around. There it was again. It was her name, and it was Jack. She raised her eyes to the trail the van had followed when it fell from the air and rolled down an embankment.

  “Jack,” she called and saw him stumbling through the snow toward her. She made it around the van and started to climb toward him. He slid the rest of the way to her. He took her head in his hands and immediately started asking her what hurt and looked at her cuts and scrapes. He, too, was bleeding from a cut on his face and had what looked like pine tree pieces in his hair.

  “Thank God,” he said and hugged her hard.

  “Were you trying to kill us?” she yelled pulling away and slapping his jacket. “Ouch,” she yelped as she noticed the gash in her hand from the windshield. He grabbed it and studied it. He used some snow to wipe her hand and face so he could get a better look at her most serious wounds.

  “Your hand is really bad,” he said and started walking toward the van.

  “Yeah, well the driver’s dead,” she said sarcastically calling after him. He seemed only moderately af
fected by the news. “Don’t you care?” she asked as he found their bags and started digging through them for something to wrap around her hand. “This guy had a mom, a dad, maybe a wife and kids,” she said trying to provoke a response. This got his attention.

  “You’re right,” he looked up toward the trail the van took and the road it left behind. “We’re going to have to move,” he dumped out their bags into the snow, and she protested. He found a white t-shirt in his bag and brought it over to her. He wrapped her hand with the shirt, and said, “Try to keep some pressure on it.” He went back to rummaging through their belongings.

  “What are you doing?” she asked impatiently. He ignored her and went on looking for supplies. “Will you at least tell me what you’re doing so I can help you?” He paused and looked at her.

  “See if you can find a first aid kit or a flashlight. Oh, and maybe matches or a map or something,” he said. She stood there looking at him. “Go,” he said and pointed to the van. She didn’t know why she did it, but she did. She found a flashlight in the glove compartment and the first aid kit under the passenger’s seat. She found a lighter in a pack of cigarettes in the visor above the dead driver. The only thing she didn’t find was the map. Jack was stuffing items into their backpacks when she returned. He took the items from her and put everything but the lighter into one of the bags. He took the lighter and put it in his jean pocket. “Good,” he said and zipped them. “Come on,” he said and took her uninjured hand. He started leading her toward the woods, and she slightly tugged at him.

  “Wait. Where are you going? The road’s that way,” she said, but he ignored her. “We can’t just leave him here,” she added pulling him harder. He stopped and turned around.