Deep Down Dead

by Steph Broadribb

  Behind me, JT thumped on the Plexiglas. ‘Let me help.’

  Ignoring him, I twisted right, and reached out to Dakota. At full stretch I could just touch her. The truck creaked as I moved. I hoped to hell it wasn’t going to slide further.

  I needed to get closer. I moved my legs, got my left foot against the side of the footwell and used it to push myself further towards Dakota. As I did, a sharp pain spasmed through my right leg. Shit. I couldn’t see what was causing it; the now-lifeless airbags limited my view. I clenched my teeth. Tried to block out the pain.

  Behind me, JT thumped on the Plexiglas again. ‘We need to get out of here, Lori. We’re leaking gas.’

  I inched closer to my angel. Stroked her face. ‘Can you hear me, sweetie?’

  Nothing.

  Her skin felt cold, clammy. A dark bruise had already begun to form from her left eyebrow across her forehead. But she was so still. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. I grabbed for her wrist, couldn’t find a pulse.

  Without turning, I called to JT. ‘How long was I out?’

  ‘A few minutes.’

  Shit. Dakota needed oxygen. Didn’t the brain start to die after four minutes without? My heart raced. Why the hell couldn’t I remember? I had to do something. ‘How many?’

  ‘Maybe three.’

  Double shit. Should I give her mouth-to-mouth? I’d learnt first aid as part of my licence, but this situation was nothing like how we’d practised it in class.

  CPR: two breaths, fifteen chest compressions. Was that right? I couldn’t be sure. What if I did it too hard or too shallow? It’d seemed so easy on the plastic mannequin. They’d said to only do compressions if there was no pulse, get that wrong and you could do real damage. Shit. I had to be certain.

  Check airway: with trembling fingers, I released her seatbelt and rested her on her back against the door. Thankfully the window was still intact. I pushed the airbag out of the way as best I could, tilted her head and looked inside her mouth. Empty.

  I heard water flowing fast somewhere below us. In the transport cage behind me I could hear JT shifting his weight, trying to get free. The trunk groaned. I half turned my head. ‘Quit moving.’

  JT was still. I focused back on Dakota.

  Check breathing: they’d said to put your cheek to the person’s mouth to feel. I pushed my left foot harder against the footwell, trying to get closer. Couldn’t. Pain spiked in the front of my right shin.

  This wasn’t going to work. We needed to get out of the truck. ‘It’s okay, baby. Just hold on. I’ll have you out of here real fast.’

  Turning, I grabbed the steering wheel and heaved myself up to the driver’s door. The truck moaned as the wheels turned, hitting tree branches, rocks, dirt and whatever else was out there. The smell of gas grew stronger.

  I pulled the door release. Didn’t work. I yanked at it with my left hand, shoving my right palm hard against the door. It held firm, stuck.

  ‘Let me help.’

  JT. I’d forgotten he was there. I swivelled round. ‘How?’

  He raised his hands, nodded at the plasticuffs. ‘Without these I can pull the pair of you free.’

  I pressed the door release to the transport cage. ‘Your door?’

  He pulled the handle. His door opened just fine.

  Could I trust him? I hoped so. Taking my keys from the ignition, I flicked through the bunch until I found the smallest one. Twisting back around I unclipped my belt and reached towards the top corner of the Plexiglas screen. The muscles of my right leg felt like they were on fire. I ignored the pain. Concentrated on the first of the six locks that held the Plexiglas divider in place. At full stretch I could just reach the lock in the left-hand corner. I inserted the key and turned it. One down, five to go.

  I repeated the process until the screen was free, then shoved it to the right, out of our way. My right ankle throbbed, the shin above it numb. I glanced at Dakota, thought I saw the slight rise and fall of her chest as she took a breath, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t like how pale she’d gotten, or the thin film of sweat that’d formed across her skin. We needed to get out of the truck. Now.

  But, shit. The only way to get JT out of the plasticuffs was to cut them off. Problem was, my cutters were stowed with the rest of my tools in the lockbox in the pickup bed. I’d have to improvise. ‘Where’s the lighter?’

  JT frowned, then understood. ‘Left pants pocket.’

  He moved forward, slow and steady, putting his hip near the back of my head-rest. Not slow enough. I heard a screech, like a cat under torture, and the truck slid an inch or two along the ground, nose-end first. Branches scratched against the paintwork. The sound of running water grew louder. Time was running out.

  Gripping the seat with one hand to steady myself, I reached into the transport cage and shoved my hand into JT’s pocket. I felt the cold metal of the Zippo, and pulled it clear.

  JT eased his weight back, held out his hands. Nodded.

  I flicked up the hood, sparked the flame, and held it against the centre of the cuffs. The plastic started to melt, drips of liquid plastic fell on to his skin. He didn’t flinch. I noticed his wrists were cut, bloodied. I swallowed down the guilt. Focused on the flame, the cuffs.

  A few seconds later JT pulled his hands apart, snapping the weakened plastic. Turning, he put his feet on the door of the passenger side and released the other door. He thrust it open, heaved himself out on to the side of the truck. Disappeared.

  The vehicle slid again. We travelled a foot or so down the bank.

  I didn’t have long. Had to be ready to get Dakota out of here. I reached down for her, scooping her into my arms. ‘It’s okay, baby. Momma’s got you. It’s gonna be okay.’

  She was limp, like a rag doll. Holding her close, I put my cheek close to her mouth and waited. I felt it. A slight breath, I was sure of it. I waited, one more, to be certain. There it was again. I shifted back in the seat, watched her chest, saw the slightest movement. She was breathing.

  Relief flooded through me. I put my fingers to her neck, checked for a pulse. Faint, but there. ‘Dakota? Sweetie, can you hear me?’

  Her eyelids flickered open. ‘Momma? Where are we?’

  ‘It’s okay, baby. We’re in the truck. We’ll be out soon.’

  We waited.

  Where the hell was JT? Had I been wrong to free him? He was a fugitive, and I’d let him go. He could run, abandon us. I swallowed down the fear. Tried to stay calm. Surely he’d not leave with us trapped in here.

  The door remained shut. Son-of-a-bitch.

  Dakota clung to me like a limpet. ‘I’m scared, Momma.’

  I wanted to tell her it’d be all right. But what if he had left us?

  Something banged against the side of the truck. The vehicle began to tilt, turning on to its roof. I heard the creak of metal buckling. We needed to get out of here, fast.

  My door opened. JT reached into the cab. ‘Pass her to me.’

  I lifted Dakota as high as I could, my arms shaking from the strain. ‘Be careful.’

  JT pulled her from me, held her tight. ‘It’s okay, kiddo. I’ve got you.’

  They moved out of view. The door closed. The truck lights died. Alone in the dark the water sounded closer, faster.

  Focus. Think. Don’t get distracted. We’d need to get help. I saw my cell phone lying against the passenger door. The screen was cracked, but maybe it’d work. I grabbed it, and the charger that was still plugged into the lighter socket. Pulling open the glovebox, I seized the flashlight and extra bottle of water stashed there.

  The driver’s door opened again. JT held out his hand. ‘Lori, let’s go.’

  Gripping my stash with one hand, I heaved myself up to JT. I felt his hands on me, heard him grunt with the effort as he pulled me free. The truck was moving, falling. I kicked my feet away from the steering column, used my good leg to boost myself higher.

  We fell from the truck, slammed into the ground hard. JT landed on hi
s back, me on my front beside him. A rock dug into my hip. Dirt tasted peaty in my mouth.

  Behind us the truck flipped slowly on to its roof.

  Ignoring the pain shooting through my right leg, I scrambled up the bank a little ways to where Dakota was sitting. ‘You okay, honey?’

  She nodded, wide-eyed. One of her braids had come loose. ‘I’m cold.’

  JT took off his shirt. The black singlet beneath looked moulded against his chest.

  Before he could get to Dakota I pulled off my jacket and put it around her shoulders. ‘Put this on.’

  ‘Any idea where we’re at?’ JT asked, scrunching his shirt into a ball between his fists.

  I shook my head. The movement was a mistake. The world seemed to swirl and warp around me. I put my hands on the ground to steady myself. ‘I’d say we’re twenty minutes from the ranch in Yellow Spring, maybe thirty. The nearest town will be a good hour away.’

  JT gazed at me, his expression all tender and concerned. ‘You okay?’

  I stood, moved closer to him. Looked deep into his eyes. We were out of the truck because of him. If he’d not woken me, Dakota could be dead. I put my lips to his ear. ‘Thank you.’

  He turned his head, his mouth inches from mine. ‘For? … shit.’

  I’d snapped my last set of plasticuffs on to his wrists. I learnt a long time ago that you can’t ever trust a man. JT had saved us, and for that I was real grateful, but I’d be a fool to trust him. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just business.’

  I’d expected anger. Instead he looked hurt, disappointed. I turned away, didn’t want to see that look on his face. ‘We can’t do anything until dawn. We need to find some place to sleep.’

  ‘We should get your weapons. You got them stored in the lockbox?’

  I shook my head. Decided not to tell him about the Wesson in my go-bag. ‘I don’t do guns anymore.’

  JT frowned. ‘That right? You know, sometimes, you should listen to me.’

  I glared at him. Felt the rush of fury. Remembered what had happened all those years ago; all that blood.

  Didn’t he realise? I’d listened real careful, hung on to every word he’d said. That had been the problem.

  14

  Pitch-dark mountainside, unknown terrain, no shelter. Not the ideal situation. I pulled my cell from my pocket. The cracked screen showed no sign of life. I pressed the button, hoping it might activate. No luck. Either the force of the crash had killed it, or it was out of juice. Either way, right now it had little value.

  Shoving the cell back into my pocket, I switched on the flashlight I’d taken from the truck and used its narrow beam to get my bearings. The forest was dense, the thick tree branches above blocked out most of the light from the half-moon, making the night seem darker. I looked up the mountainside, shone the flashlight’s beam past the broken branches and into the distant blackness. Somewhere up there was the road.

  ‘We should get moving,’ JT said.

  ‘No.’ Dakota needed rest, and my ankle was too sore to get far over this terrain in the dark. Besides, if Gunner and his boys had managed to get themselves free and had decided on coming after us, we’d be sitting ducks out there on the highway. Better to hold hard a short while. At first light we could assess the damage to the truck and figure out our next move. ‘I’m pretty sure we passed a gas station on our way up – in the valley maybe forty-five minutes before Yellow Spring. In the morning we can hike there, get some help.’

  JT nodded, but his expression, illuminated by the flashlight, showed that he was pissed. I could understand that.

  ‘Right now we need to get what we can from the truck and make camp,’ I said.

  Dakota was still clinging to me. I could feel her shivering, and she looked real sleepy. Not good. I couldn’t let her sleep so quickly after a bang on the head, I needed to keep her awake. ‘Dakota should eat.’

  JT nodded. ‘Where’s the food?’

  ‘A cooler in the lockbox.’

  ‘Key?’

  I removed it from my keychain and handed it to him. He looked pointedly at his cuffed hands. I shook my head.

  I kept the flashlight beam aimed a step ahead of him as he pushed through the undergrowth around the truck, his forearms held high, shielding his face from the thorns. The truck had butted up close against the trunk of a large sugar maple. As he studied it, I checked our surroundings as best I could. There was just a whole bunch of trees. No sign of Gunner and his boys. At least that was something.

  Dakota stared up at me. ‘Will he be okay?’

  I hoped so. Without JT we’d have nothing, no money for the medical bills. ‘Sure. He’ll be just fine.’

  JT stepped up on to the belly of the truck, then dropped down the other side. Bending low, he scooted beneath the truck bed. I couldn’t see what he did, but I heard the familiar squeak of the hinge on the lockbox as it opened, and a thud as the contents that had been stowed inside dropped to the ground. Moments later JT reappeared carrying our orange cooler. ‘There’s a purple rucksack. You want it?’

  Dakota stepped closer. ‘The Miranda Lambert one? That’s mine. Yes please.’

  JT set the cooler down and slid back under the truck. I kept my hand on Dakota’s shoulder. She strained, like an overeager puppy on a leash, watching what he was doing. ‘Let him, honey. The truck’s not stable enough for you to go in there.’

  He emerged with the rucksack. Taking hold of the cooler – not an easy task with his hands cuffed and Dakota’s bag to carry too – he returned slower than he’d gone in, following the same path through the thorns.

  He dropped the cooler at my feet. ‘Here you go.’

  Dakota took her rucksack, hugged it close, and looked up at JT. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’ He smiled, and nodded at the picture of the sequin-covered singer on the front of the rucksack. ‘Matches your shirt. Guess you’re a big country music fan, then.’

  I caught his gaze. ‘There’s a leather carryall. I can’t leave it.’

  JT nodded. He understood, or remembered, that it was my go-bag. He pushed his way back through the thicket to the Silverado. ‘Whereabouts?’

  The carryall was in the passenger footwell the last time I’d seen it, but that had been before the impact and the fall. It could be anywhere. ‘The front, somewhere.’

  He opened the driver’s door, his only access due to the passenger door having been shoved tight against the tree. In the beam of the flashlight I could see that, despite the beating it’d taken, the cab had retained its basic structural shape. The roof, however, now resting on the ground, looked pretty caved.

  JT peered into the truck. ‘I see it.’

  Before I could reply, he crawled inside. A tight squeeze for a big guy, I reckoned, and tough to manoeuvre, especially with his wrists bound. Still, perhaps he should feel proud. Me keeping him in cuffs meant I was still following his rules, his code. Rule number three: Limit your risks.

  The Silverado creaked as JT moved through the cab.

  Dakota gripped my hand, squeezed it tight. ‘Is he okay?’

  I hoped so, and not just because he was our bargaining chip with Quinn.

  ‘Momma?’

  Before I had the chance to answer my brown carryall appeared, shoved through the open driver’s door. JT followed.

  I exhaled, and gave Dakota’s hand a light squeeze. ‘There. He got it.’

  JT made his way back through the undergrowth and handed me the carryall. Taking it from him, I tried not to let my gaze linger on the scratches and bleeding tears that zigzagged across his forearms. I felt guilty. Knew I should at least have let him put his shirt on before sending him into the wreck. I guess that was the way things always went with us: a fistful of should and a butt-load of guilt.

  ‘We should find a spot to make camp.’

  We moved a short distance from the truck, to a small clearing with flatter ground. I looked up the mountainside. The tree canopy was dense, shielding us fro
m view of the road above. If Gunner and his boys were coming after us I reckoned on this being as safe a place as any to hide out a while. ‘This’ll do.’

  ‘Yep.’ The way he said it made it sound more like a grunt than a word. Still pissed at me and letting me know it.

  Well, too bad. I wasn’t asking for permission. ‘Can you find us some wood?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I turned to Dakota. ‘We’ll get a campfire going, sweetie, just like last holiday when we went to Krista’s cookout.’

  She nodded, but didn’t speak. Not normal, not for her. She was way too quiet. That worried me. Physically she seemed fine, but I guessed that the shock of the crash had kicked in. I needed to keep her alert, stop her worrying. I knelt down beside her. ‘Now how about you check what we’ve got for dinner?’

  Dakota opened the cooler. There wasn’t much left: two bottles of water, half a packet of peanut butter cups, a yogurt and two tubs of ice cream.

  She gazed into the darkness in the direction JT had gone. ‘Should we wait for him?’

  I shook my head. ‘You go ahead, honey.’

  Dakota reached in and took an ice cream. ‘It’s still good, Momma. I told you the ice would work.’

  ‘Is that your dinner?’

  She grinned. ‘Yeah.’

  I figured after the events of the last few hours she deserved a treat. I smiled. ‘Okay.’

  She fished in the bottom of the cooler for a plastic spoon, and got to work on her ice cream.

  ‘You stay here, sweetie. I’m going to check things out.’

  With an eye still on JT and Dakota, I hobbled a few steps away from camp and used the flashlight to sweep the hillside. The river lay eight yards away. The bank back to the road was steep and littered with tree roots and boulders. A lot of the undergrowth had been scraped clear by the truck, which would make climbing up easier. Still, I had been right – what with the near-vertical slope and the darkness, we couldn’t safely navigate out until morning.

  I limped back to our makeshift camp. My leg hurt like a bitch, but there was nothing to be done about that. There was no medical help nearby and no way to call for it. For now, we were on our own.