Five Total Strangers

by Natalie D. Richards

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Brecken says.

  “Looks like you’ve got a little space.”

  “No, we don’t. We’re all full.”

  “With little things like them?”

  I feel the man’s eyes on me. Watch them graze Harper, too. We are the little things he’s referring too. Harper curls her fingers into the sleeve of my coat and pulls me close. Her breath shudders.

  “Why don’t you two get in the car?” Brecken asks. He’s using the same, easygoing tone but there’s an edge underneath. It matches the stress cording out the tendons in his neck.

  “Let’s all go,” Harper says, her voice shaking but loud. “We’re already full, so come on, Brecken.”

  “Now, hear me out.” The man holds up his hands and I try not to inhale, not to smell that awful, chemical smell. It’s mixed with liquor now. He’s swaying like he’s drunk, and there’s something bulky in his coat pocket. I don’t know what he’s got in there, but it’s bigger than a wallet. I think of the sign behind the gas station counter. Does he have a gun, too? Is he the danger I’ve been sensing?

  My body knew something was wrong. Every hour, my skin has crawled. My body prickled and shivered and warned me that I was being watched. Maybe even hunted. And now I know why.

  “I don’t mean no harm at all,” he says, words bleeding into each other, “and we can squeeze for a few miles. That’s all I need. A few miles so I’m closer to town.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brecken says, “We can’t help you.”

  Harper and I start backing toward the car in wordless agreement.

  “Oh, you could help,” the man says clearly, no slurring in these words at all. Even the rough edges of his voice seem to be smoothing over, and it’s turning me to stone. “You could help me if you wanted to. And you’ll wish you had helped. One day you’ll remember this, and you’ll wish you’d made a different choice.”

  There’s no question on waiting now. I trip over Harper’s feet once. Twice. She pulls me up, and we scramble to the car. Brecken walks calmly to the driver’s-side door, sliding behind the wheel without asking for permission. He doesn’t need it.

  I don’t care if he drives. I don’t care that he stole. In this second, I don’t even care if he meant to hit Corey in that parking lot, as long as he gets us away from this place.

  And away from this man.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I try not to breathe through my nose. The mix of smells in this car is sending my stomach back to that topsy-turvy place from the earlier parts of the drive. Everyone’s soap and shampoo and even laundry detergent mingles with the faint smell of melted snow and sweat, all layered over a residue of new-car air freshener. Not actual new car smell, mind you, because I’m guessing this vehicle has seen a parade of travelers in and out of its seats, but the artificial chemical odor that seems to fool most people.

  I’m not fooled. I’m nauseated.

  I shift in my seat, shoving a hand between the belt and my stomach as Brecken creeps down the snow-clogged road. Somehow in the commotion, Josh ended up in the front, and I’m back with Kayla and Harper, my shoulder bumping Kayla’s every time Brecken turns. The nudges make me sicker than the smell.

  I grip the seat beneath me with both hands, trying desperately to hold myself in the middle, and close my eyes, shutting out the spray of snow on the windshield and the memory of the man in the bar parking lot.

  I want my mother. Not the grief-stricken, vacant-eyed version I got after Phoebe died. I want my Before Mom. I know I need to be strong for her. That’s how it works now. But in this moment, I need her, too. I’m sick and scared and so tired that my eyes ache.

  Before Mom would tell me that was quite an adventure. Then she’d push my hair back from my face while I’d choose one of the cookies that would be fanned out, just so, on the rectangle plate she always uses. We’d have Christmas like we did before this nightmare. Before Daniel left. Before Phoebe died.

  The Christmas tree would sit left of the fireplace, my stocking would already be full, and Mom would have Bing Crosby’s Christmas album playing to make it feel like home. Right now, home feels like another dimension. Something that’s slipped away from this new world entirely.

  My stomach cramps, and I curl my shoulders in, wondering why I can’t shake this feeling of dread. Doesn’t my body know that the terrible thing has already come? Plenty of terrible things. The wreck on the bridge. Kayla and her drugs. Corey on the ground. The man at the bar. It’s all behind us, but my body is coiled tight, my senses sharp and searching.

  My body still senses danger. And maybe that’s because the danger has been with us all along. My gaze drifts over each of my fellow travelers. These people are just like me, I tell myself. We’re all trying to get home.

  Unless we’re not.

  My breath freezes in my lungs. I hold it in for one beat. Then another. It comes out in a rush. What if one of us isn’t in this car to get home at all? What if one of us got in this car for all the wrong reasons?

  I know someone is lying. Stealing, too. But how do I know there isn’t more coming? I don’t know anything about these people. I don’t even know who I can rule out. Harper? I don’t think so. I’ve seen a side to her—cold and calculating—that doesn’t match the bubbly girl I sat with on the plane. And whatever’s going on in her family, it’s bad. How do I know she’s not involved in that mess? Easy: I don’t. I can’t dismiss Josh or Kayla, either. Kayla has been out of it the entire trip, and I know there’s a chemical explanation. Addicts are often desperate by nature, and desperate people can do unthinkable things. It would make sense for her to steal items of value, but breaking the chargers? Taking the map? That part doesn’t add up.

  Harper called Josh a “nice guy,” but Brecken swears he was responsible for hitting Corey. Maybe he’s right. I’m not sure I could see Josh mowing a kid down, but maybe he’s hiding something darker beneath all the pretentiousness and patronizing comments.

  Maybe.

  Any of them could be behind this—behind all of this. But my eyes draw back to Brecken and hold. Intense. That’s the first word I thought of to describe him. He’s been champing at the bit to be in charge since we started this trip and when he’s been in charge, terrible things have happened. Yet, somehow he’s managed to end up behind the wheel again.

  And he didn’t just hitch this ride—he wanted to rent a car himself. He suggested coming to I-80 as well. The only thing Brecken resisted is stopping at the Cock ’N Bull, which is the one place we might have gotten rescued.

  A thought lances through me like a frisson of heat: Where was Brecken when the power went out?

  I don’t know.

  I stare at the back of his head, at his long thick fingers curled over the steering wheel. My heart thumps, a drumbeat of fear pulsing in the tips of my fingers. I can’t imagine what he’d want from us or what he might plan. But I can’t deny that when I look at him, I’m afraid.

  I look around, watching the snow-covered slopes pass by. We’re headed deeper into the mountains. It doesn’t feel like the right way if we’re looking for a gas station or a truck stop—or anything else that might be open.

  I straighten in my seat, goose bumps rising on my arms. “Wait, what are we doing right now?”

  “Driving,” Brecken says. “Hopefully in a westward direction.”

  Josh and I exchange a look. He gives the merest nod, and I feel palpable relief. He sees it, too.

  “I think we should look for a place where we can get a map and use the phone,” I say. “The police still want to talk to us.”

  “They do,” Harper says, “and they have no idea when they’ll show up. They did give us phone numbers so we can call when we get home if nothing else.” She doesn’t sound too pressed. She sounds exhausted. Resigned.

  Brecken’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, meeting mine. �
��We don’t know where the station is,” he says. “But we can go back if you’d like to chat with our creepy yellow hat friend to see if he knows.”

  His words slither up my spine.

  “You said we needed to stay away from him,” Harper says.

  “Yes, but we’re not doing what the police told us to do,” I say.

  “There was a power outage,” Harper says. “I doubt they’d want us to sit in a dark parking lot with a scary drifter, hoping we don’t succumb to carbon monoxide poisoning or whatever.”

  “So, we just drive off and keep heading home?” Josh asks.

  “Of course not.” A frown pinches Harper’s face. “We’ll stop the second we find something open. We will call.”

  “It’s not like we’re trying to get away with something,” Brecken says.

  I don’t respond, but Josh and I share another brief look. He holds up his hand in a signal that I think means ease up. Or give me time to think. I don’t care what it means. In this moment, I feel a little less alone, and that’s enough.

  Kayla’s passed out again. Or faking it convincingly. Harper looks sleepy, too. Brecken is fiddling with the radio, of all things. And Josh seems lost in his own thoughts, a tendon in his jaw jumping. He’d better think fast, because if he’s right about Brecken, we’re in real trouble.

  Or, wait… Am I the only one in trouble? What if this ominous feeling has mostly been mine because I’m the one being hunted? Brecken’s eyes find mine in the mirror again and I remember—Josh’s book was in his bag. And I either lost my phone when I was in the front seat, or when I was running through the campground. The common factor in both situations? Brecken. And at the gas station. I remember Harper and Brecken talking.

  Josh lost a book, I lost my phone, Harper lost her wallet, and Kayla lost something she won’t name. Probably drugs. Brecken said he lost something, too, but doubts are pooling in my belly, cold and slippery. Did he stage that to see our reaction?

  Did he take our things?

  I swallow, my throat clicking. The memory of him against that tree in the campground flares to life. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed. I thought it was exhilaration from our narrow escape, but what if I was wrong? What if he was thrilled by my fear? Or by knowing he’d somehow gotten my phone from me. But why would Brecken want to hurt me?

  Or am I just unlucky enough to be the one he targeted?

  I force a deep breath and try to pull my mind back from the edge. I need to think. I need to find a way out of here. If Brecken is planning something—can I stop him? Can I get away?

  He’s big. College-football-player big with broad shoulders and biceps that tell me he could pound the tar out of someone my size. Maybe even someone Josh’s size. I need to get Harper on our side. Kayla’s too out of it to care, but Harper could make it difficult to get away from him. I need her to see that he might not be the hero she thinks.

  I take a breath and look at her. “Doesn’t anyone feel guilty about this?”

  “Yes.” To my surprise, it’s Brecken. He sighs, voice gone soft. “I feel like shit about all of this. It feels like every damn thing is going wrong.”

  “Things have gone wrong,” Josh says, with a pointed look at Brecken.

  “This isn’t fun for any of us,” Harper says sharply. “This isn’t part of our plan.”

  “I didn’t think a blizzard road trip was part of anyone’s plans,” I say.

  “Look, we all just want to go home,” Harper says.

  “Which is going to be difficult without phones or a map,” Josh says.

  Brecken snorts. “We’re going twenty miles an hour. At this rate, we can probably just follow the stars west.”

  “Wait,” Harper says suddenly, her hand raising like an urgent idea has come to mind. “Pull over.”

  “What?” Brecken asks.

  “Pull over. Or just stop. We need to check the back.”

  “What do you mean?” Josh asks. “Check for what?”

  “For an adapter. Some cars, especially SUVs, have power plugs in the back, right? For camping or whatever.”

  “She’s right,” Josh says, and I can hear a hint of eagerness in his voice. “Find a place to pull over.”

  “Laptop!” The idea is so sudden it hits my brain and my lips at the same time. I feel fizzy with the possibility. “I can charge a phone with my laptop!”

  Harper’s face glows with excitement, so I know she gets it. She grins. “Genius!”

  “Laptops,” Josh says quietly, almost in wonder. It might be nice for him to see he’s not the only one with a brain in this car. He frowns. “Does your laptop still have battery? Mine’s dead.”

  “I’m not carrying mine,” Harper sighs.

  “Me either,” Brecken says.

  “I might have a little bit of battery,” I say. Josh twists to look over the seat at me. I hold up my hands. “Don’t get too excited—I doubt I have much. I was at forty percent before I boarded in California, and I used it on the plane.”

  Harper touches Brecken’s shoulder. “We need to pull over. Now.”

  Brecken finds a place half a mile up—a turn in for some long-abandoned driveway as far as I can tell. It’s potentially the perfect place to pull out my laptop and charge a phone. And maybe to talk to Harper.

  Harper opens her door and I start climbing over.

  “I’ll help you get to it,” Brecken says, unbuckling.

  “I’ll help,” Josh says, moving to unbuckle.

  “No, don’t.” Harper grabs him. “The snow is deep, and you’re on crutches. I’m sure Brecken can do it.”

  Panic is running like carbonation through my veins. “I don’t need any help.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Brecken says, and he’s already out of the car.

  I don’t have a good reason to argue, so I catch Josh’s eyes once. I can see he’s uncomfortable, but what do we do? Accuse him now in the middle of nowhere? There’s no way this ends well if we do it now.

  We’re better off charging a phone and calling the police. We can play this game for ten more minutes. The police are our best bet.

  I swallow hard and follow Brecken, stepping out into the biting wind. We close the doors, and just like that, we’re alone. The occupants of the car might as well be on another planet. Wind whistles down the mountainside and the snow crunches when I shift my feet. Brecken looks at me across the top of the car and I zip my coat, feeling like his eyes are cutting right through me.

  Without a word, I circle to the back and someone pops the hatch from the front. Brecken doesn’t reach to open it. He watches me, unmoving, as fear runs through me like a current. I reach for the lid, and Brecken’s hand shoots out to hold it shut. To stop me.

  “What are you doing?” I sound afraid.

  “Do you think I hit that kid, Mira?”

  I shudder, resisting the urge to take a step back. Pushing against my terror to stay calm. To keep my eyes open like my mom said.

  “Why would you ask something like that?”

  “Because I can tell you’re afraid of something,” he says, stepping closer. “I just want to know if it’s me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m six inches deep in snow and zero percent interested in being here with Brecken. I reach for the trunk again and Brecken grabs my wrist. I try to pull away, but he’s got me and he’s strong.

  “Let go of me.” I yank hard, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Listen to me,” he says, loosening his grip, but not releasing me. “I didn’t hit that kid. Josh pulled the wheel.”

  “I said let go.”

  He does. My arm drops and he exhales, his breath steaming between us. “I’m not trying to hurt you; I’m trying to keep us safe.”

  “From Josh,” I deadpan. “From the guy with the torn ACL.”

  “I
don’t care about his ACL,” Brecken says, and then he shakes his head, his eyes frantic. “Josh is crazy. He tried to kill that kid!”

  “You think Josh tried to kill a stranger in a parking lot.”

  “Yes!” Brecken’s eyes are wild, and his voice is a whisper scream. “He’s framing me. He’s probably framing all of us!”

  A fleck of spit hits my cheek and I recoil. Brecken isn’t in his right mind. He is not okay, and we need help. Now is not soon enough.

  I eye the trunk where my laptop rests. I fling the lid up and hear the radio playing. The wind rushing. They won’t hear us unless I’m shouting, but I don’t need to be loud. I need that laptop.

  “Move so I can get my bag,” I say.

  “You’re not listening to me. Josh grabbed the wheel. Even before that—earlier. He wanted me to steal the gas.”

  “He told you to steal the gas,” I say, my voice dripping with disbelief.

  Brecken grimaces before he responds. “Not exactly. But he gave me a look. In the mirror. I saw it.” He steps closer to me again, voice a whisper. “I know I sound crazy, but I’m not. He is trying to make me out to be the bad guy. That’s not who I am.”

  His manic expression sends chills up my spine. He’s breathing hard and fast, and his darting eyes scare me more than anything that’s happened so far on this trip. He wants me to say something and I’m grasping in the dark.

  But while I’m sure that Brecken is dangerous, his words leave me with a sliver of doubt. If I were going to frame a person in this car, I’d pick him. He does look the part. He’s got the hard face and wide shoulders of a man who could be dangerous.

  What if I’m wrong about Josh?

  With Brecken practically foaming at the mouth, I think I’ll take my chances. I glance at the open door, at the black strap of my laptop bag, and then back to Brecken.

  “Look, it’s been a long day.”

  He licks his lips, nodding vigorously. “It has.”

  “We’re all tired. You’re tired.”

  To my shock, his eyes go shiny with tears. He nods even more vigorously. “I am. I am tired, but that doesn’t change this. I know what’s happening here.”