by Sophia Gray
“Goodbye, Sergei. And thank you for your help.”
“Best of luck, Nicky, dearest.”
With that, he hung up before I got the chance to chew his ass for calling me Nicky. I hated that. Hanging up the pump again, I replaced the gas cap and got back behind the wheel. For just a moment longer, I paused. My phone beeped, informing me that I had a message. Sergei had texted me the details of the motel. It was called the Market Town Inn and after a quick search, I found even the best pictures of it revealed something that looked just shy of being condemned.
Not where I would stay, on the run or not, I thought. But they weren’t me and it seemed like they were trying to save on money, which seemed odd given they’d stolen so much. Or maybe they really were trying to be smart and attempting to lay low.
I doubted it. If anything, it was out of habit.
I started the car and took off, heading down the bumpy, poorly maintained road with thick trees lined the sides of it. It took me maybe another ten or fifteen minutes before I came upon the motel. It was in pretty rough shape, worse even than the pictures, but I noticed a shiny red truck parked outside of it and knew I had reached the correct location.
Taking precautions as Sergei suggested, I went past the motel and found a boarded-up building just a half a mile up the road. Not far at all. It looked like it might have been some sort of market at some point, but was long since closed down. It looked half rotted at this point and I wondered if there was a damn thing in Madison that wasn’t grungy and falling apart. Probably not.
Parking my car behind the building for some cover and as close to the trees as possible, I got out. I checked my gun—loaded, safety off—then replaced it into my shoulder holster. From there, I walked.
It took me another ten or fifteen minutes to walk back to the motel, mostly because I was picking my way through the trees lining the road, hoping to stay at least half hidden. If I were lucky, no one would even notice me. When I finally broke through to find the motel and the red truck in front of it, I felt relieved. I’d been worried that he would be gone again before I returned.
But no, the truck was still there. My eyes scanned the area, searching for the owner of said truck, but the place seemed practically deserted. There was one other car in the entire lot, and it looked like it belonged to whoever was manning the front desk rather than another customer.
Eventually, my gaze landed on the truck again. No movement. It seemed empty. The thought crossed my mind that Logan could be crouched down, hiding there instead of in whatever room he’d booked for the night. But I dismissed it right away. Not a chance.
Deciding to go in for a closer look, I walked up to the truck. When I was close enough to see inside the window, I frowned. Definitely no one in there. The truck was a mess. While it was still shiny on the outside, though dented, there was trash littered everywhere: old wrappers from fast food sandwiches, the bags they came in, empty drink cups. It looked like someone had gotten into a bag of sunflower seeds and just spit them out again all over the floorboards and across the seats. In a word, it was disgusting.
But that really wasn’t important to me, regardless of my personal opinions on the matter. What mattered was that the truck was empty. My eyes narrowed. Empty, but the keys were still right there, hanging from the ignition.
What kind of idiot leaves the keys in the ignition with no one in the truck? I thought to myself.
My opinion of Logan and his crackerjack friend was dropping even lower. I sighed. Surely, if the keys were in there, then the money was not. I was about to go into the lobby and talk to whatever poor soul was stuck behind the front desk when a thought finally occurred to me. It was enough to make me freeze right there in my tracks.
No one leaves the keys in the car of their vehicle, especially when it’s such an important means of escape. When you’re on the run, that vehicle is your only means of surviving. Even these two knuckleheads couldn’t be that stupid.
So why would they be there?
“If they were about to leave when I showed up,” I muttered out loud.
Taking shallow breaths and straining my ears, I listened to the sounds around me. It was quiet. The road was right there, but this town seemed pretty dead for the most part and I was fairly certain at this point that there just wasn’t much traffic. From the woods, I heard the chirping sounds of birds and crickets. It was all very quiet and yet…not right.
The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle as I sensed, more than saw, that something was out of place. I wasn’t sure what it was, until he came at me from behind.
A heavy weight barreled into me as two long, gangly arms wrapped around my upper arms to keep me from immediately using them to fight back. Though thin, the arms were surprisingly strong, the muscles lean, but powerful.
He took me to the ground, the heavy weight that I now knew was a man on top of me. I struggled, but just as I managed to shift him to the side, rolling us both over, he began to beat me about the head and shoulders. His fists weren’t as accurate as they might have been, but in his frantic flailing there was power. I felt his hand connect with my jaw, leaving what was sure to be a bruise later and causing my lip to split open. Instantly, I tasted coppery blood.
It was difficult given my position on the ground with him on my back, but I found a way to take a swing at him. It connected with his shoulder and he let out a grunt, but I couldn’t get a good shot at his face. In fact, I couldn’t even make out his face. I struggled, trying to push him off, lifting and flexing my shoulders in an attempt to break his hold on me, but he held on doggedly. It was as though he sensed that his life hung in the balance. If he let me go, he was a dead man.
Forcing us to roll, so I could get him on his back, I tried again to break free, this time elbowing him hard in the ribs. He let out a harsh whoosh of air as my elbow made contact and it was enough for me to jerk free of his hold. I might have had enough time to pull my gun, or at the very least round on him and get a good hit in to his face, but he was ready for me. He swung his leg out, catching me at the knees and causing me to buckle back to the ground unexpectedly. I used my hands to catch my weight, but the pause was enough time to let him up. I saw his brown, scuffed work boots right as they came at my face.
They crunched against my nose. My eyesight grew dark around the edges as I struggled for consciousness and breath, but it was useless. My head snapped back from the force of the blow and I fell to the ground once more. I didn’t know who my assailant was, but I could guess. And if I was right, then this was it. My last moments. I was dead.
As I drifted away to darkness, I had a strange, errant thought. It was of Madeline, smiling at me, biting her lip, opening herself up for me. It was of her hands on her bare stomach as she smiled shyly.
I wish I could see my baby born before dying.
And then, I was gone.
Chapter 25
Madeline
We drove for a long while, through the rest of the very early morning and then later still. At first, I thought Shawn had a really good idea of where he was going. Like he already had a destination in mind, but after I was really awake, I started paying attention to signs. We’d stay on the interstate for a while only to get off downtown. Then we’d drive in and out of the streets there before taking the next exit once more onto the freeway. After a couple of hours, I was beginning to realize he was just driving blindly.
Every so often, we would stop for gas, which was good. Morning sickness had made my stomach queasy, and I needed to use the restroom to throw up at least four or five different times. It also gave me the chance to have a moment’s privacy.
Maybe it was just paranoia after everything that was happening and going on in my life, or maybe it was the hormones from the pregnancy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Shawn was being…weird. Yes, scared of Nikolai and what was going on with Logan, but it was something more, too. Something I’d actually begun to notice before all of this mess had begun.
Shawn
had been my best friend for practically our whole lives. He was the shoulder to cry on, the buddy to hang out with, the guy who wasn’t just a jerk, but understanding and sympathetic. I’d never known him to be mean, but lately things seemed to have somehow shifted. He was on edge more often, like something serious was on his mind, but I just couldn’t figure out what and he didn’t want to tell me. He seemed more likely to get annoyed with me, to snap even, something he’d never done before. I wondered if maybe it was the city making him all weird, but that didn’t seem right. The other day, when he confessed that he was in love with me, I started to think that maybe it was that. Maybe he was just tired of being ignored as a viable option romantically?
But he isn’t a viable option, a little voice in the back of my head whispered. I tried to shake it away and splashed some water onto my pale, slightly green face. This morning sickness was really getting to me.
I frowned. I should be lucky to have someone like Shawn. After all, wasn’t he here, knowing I was pregnant and would only be marrying him—assuming that was still my plan, though I wasn’t sure anymore that I could do it—for the sake of a baby that was someone else’s? And hadn’t he come to get me instead of just running off to save himself, just because he knew I was in danger?
How could I not want him?
And yet, still, I didn’t. In fact, I found myself sometimes not even liking him lately. I told myself it was my hormones and that I was being oversensitive, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Shawn was no longer the boy I had been best friends with for so long.
Taking a steady breath, I dried off my face, ignoring the purple bruise-like marks from lack of sleep just beneath my eyes, and unlocked the door to the bathroom. Time to get to it. And time to ask Shawn where we were going.
When I walked out, he was standing by the car filling it up with gas. He was talking on his cell phone, pacing. As he ran a hand through his hair, I noticed that he looked agitated. Which wasn’t really unusual given that he’d looked agitated for all of this morning now, but I got the feeling he wasn’t happy about whatever conversation he was having with the person on the other end of that phone.
Biting my lip, I thought about trying to get close enough to eavesdrop, maybe figure out what was going on. A second later, though, I felt stupid, childish. What a ridiculous thing to do! If I wanted to know what was going on, all I had to do was ask him. Regardless of how emotional I’d been or how on edge he was, we were still best friends.
Still, I hung back a little, watching him for a few moments longer. Shawn finally stopped, saying something animatedly to whoever was on the other end. He let out a sigh, then nodded. He must have agreed to something that the caller had said, though I couldn’t hear anything and was worried about getting closer for reasons that I couldn’t place.
Finally, he pulled the phone away from his face and shoved it into his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair once more, then went back to the car. He pulled out the pump and replaced it, screwing the gas cap back on.
I decided it was time to head over to him, before he noticed me and asked what I was doing. Forcing a smile, I asked him, “Shawn? Do you know where we’re going?”
He jumped a little at my voice, like he was surprised I was there. For a moment, he looked really nervous about something, but then it passed. He forced a smile and nodded, “Yeah. I do. It’s only about an hour from here and if we go now, we’ll get there long before dinner.”
A weird feeling crawled up my spine, but I nodded anyway. “Okay, let’s go.”
We climbed back into the car. He didn’t tell me anything specific about where we were headed and I didn’t mention to him that I’d been standing there while he was on his phone, trying to listen in to his conversation.
***
The place was a dump. A complete wreck. I’d been in some less than perfect places before—hell, my little studio apartment was shoddy at best and it was in a bad part of town—but this place took the cake. Even by my low, low standards, it looked awful.
There was a sign out front that said the Market Town Inn and there was a neon sign below it that was supposed to say whether or not there were any vacancies, but the “no” part of the sign kept flickering, so I really couldn’t tell if there were or weren’t.
“We’re staying here?” I asked Shawn as he pulled in to the parking lot. I felt bad instantly, not wanting to sound like one of those prissy, high maintenance girls, but I just couldn’t help it. This looked like the kind of place you went in a horror movie to get killed by a serial killer.
Shawn shot me an annoyed look, but seemed to forcibly smooth out his features a second later. He offered a smile as he said, “I know, it looks like a little shithole, but I promise, it’s a good place to stay.”
I was about to open my mouth and protest. There were probably bugs in the bed, holes in the wall, and all kinds of diseases in the bathroom. But then Shawn pulled up next to a parked red truck that I recognized instantly.
“Oh, my god, Logan!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Shawn grin. “See? Told you.”
I blinked, glancing from the truck to Shawn and back to the truck again. I was overcome with relief. My brother was here and alive! That must have been who Shawn was talking to on the phone at the gas station! Logan was probably calling to tell him for us to come and join him. For a second, I was just so happy that I leaned over and threw my arms around Shawn, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
He was momentarily surprised, but then I felt his hands reach for my waist and his head turn so his mouth was aimed for mine. I pulled back quickly, realizing my mistake instantly, but did my best to play it off as just excitement to see my brother. Which it was. Flashing a bright smile at Shawn, I quickly popped open the passenger door and hopped out, racing to the truck. “Logan?” I called eagerly. “Logan, where are you?”
I heard a door slam, and turned to see Shawn getting out and jogging over to me. I thought I heard him curse. “Would you shut up already?”
My eyes got wide as I looked at him. I didn’t think he’d ever told me to shut up before. “I just…” I just want to see my brother, I finished in my head.
He raked another hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just, we’re kinda in hiding, you know?”
I bit my lip, feeling ashamed. I nodded.
He put his hand on the small of my back, pushing me away from the truck and towards the line of doors that marked the motel rooms. I almost squirmed away from his touch, not wanting his hand there, but decided that would be rude. Shawn didn’t mean anything by it.
We walked all the way to the end of the corridor to the lobby where a bored-looking attendant sat behind a small, rickety desk. There was a little squishy toy frog posted on the desk with a taped message saying, “Push me” on it instead of a bell and the inside of the lobby smelled like a weird mixture of fish and old feet. Definitely not a good smell. What was worse, they had one of those air freshener things in the room which spouted some awful, fruity tropical pineapple smell into the air, too, but not enough to cover up the bad smells.
It was enough to make my stomach roil, and I thought for a moment I was going to throw up again. It was only the knowledge that my brother was here somewhere and we’d only have to be in the lobby for a moment that kept me from racing to the nearest bathroom or outside. I wasn’t about to be picky.
“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, getting the attention of the brown-haired man behind the counter.
With lazy, annoyed eyes, he looked up at me. “What?”
Rude, I thought, but pushed it aside. I wanted to be nice to get this guy to be helpful. Smiling brightly at him, I asked, “Have you seen the owner of that red truck out there?” I pointed to where Logan’s truck was. “He’s a guest here and we’re supposed to meet him. Can you tell us where to go?”
The man let out a long, obnoxious sigh, like I’d just asked him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and walk across the Sahara Desert or something.
I really didn’t like him much, but I was trying so hard to stay calm and pleasant.
He turned to his ancient computer, which was actually so old it still had that black background with the green letters on it. I didn’t even think you could still use those. He typed something in and the computer beeped. He typed in something else. Then he waited and waited, staring at the screen with boredom written across his features. After what felt like eternity—I’d begun breathing through my mouth, but then imagined I could taste the fish and the feet smell, and that was so much worse—he finally turned to me and said, “One oh two. Opposite end of here. They go in reverse order.”
Then, without another word, he turned away from us, propped his feet up on the opposite counter, and flipped open a magazine like we weren’t even there at all.
I shared a look with Shawn who was staring at the man in disgust, then led the way out of that room and back to fresh air. As soon as the door closed behind us, I breathed in deep. Thank God.
