Nobody but Us

by Kristin Halbrook

  Robbery. Theft. Kidnapping. And a dead man.

  What are we doing?

  The car hits a plate in the road too fast and the chimes clang, but their once lilting sound makes me think more of bells tolling now.

  We stop at the edge of the next town for a total of three minutes. Just long enough to put a few gallons in the tank. Enough to get us out of here. There are more casinos here. Flashing signs, blinking colors. The promise of luck. Even a roller coaster. I can’t imagine feeling as sick on a roller coaster as I do right now.

  Will jumps back in the car and we’re on the road again.

  He keeps looking at me as he drives. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed from the tension, the thrill, or maybe just from forcing himself to stay awake.

  I’m so tired that I cried because I couldn’t use the girls’ bathroom even though I didn’t need to and even though I was the one who clogged it. I’m so tired that I could cry right now just thinking about what we did and why and how we’re going to live with it all.

  Instead, I press my palm against the cool window glass and follow it with my forehead. The temperature soothes me, but my heart is still racing. I thought I was used to it, being yelled at, abused, cussed at. I thought nothing could bother me anymore. But I don’t deserve being treated that way, and now I’m affected in ways I’ve never been before. Anger simmers under my weariness, my fear, but it isn’t big enough to destroy me. Not anymore.

  “How’d it go?” I ask Will after a while. I splay my fingers wide and peek between them at a desert landscape of moonbeams and charcoal shadows.

  “How’d it go?” he repeats. I feel his hand on my hair. That delicious transfer right out of his heart, through his fingers, and into my head. Just his touch settles my trembling chin. I can’t wait until we get through this place, until we make it honestly and begin to do things that we’re proud of. I can’t wait to love him again without this cloud over our heads.

  “How much did you get?” I’m nauseous. Will pulls the bag out from under his sweatshirt and begins to pass it to me, then stops. “What?”

  The paper bag crinkles as he unrolls the top with one hand and pulls out fistfuls of cash, then dumps it all in my lap. He shoves the sack under his seat, where it hits a piece of metal with a clunk. I’m curious about the sound, about what heavy thing is under Will’s legs, but fascinated by the cash in my lap. My chest swells, pride fills me, as though I earned this. As though I could do it again.

  “It ain’t as much as it looks,” Will says. “A lot of ones. But it’s enough for now.”

  “For now,” I whisper, the words dry as desert air as they cross my lips.

  I organize the bills into neat piles, smoothing the crinkles out and straightening the bent corners. Will’s right. There are lots more ones than anything else. Thirty-seven of them. Fourteen fives, two tens, and twelve twenties.

  “Three sixty-seven. That’s more than I thought there would be. I think we’ll be okay for a little while. We just need to be careful.”

  Will jerks his chin up at the sound of my voice. He is dozing off.

  “Will!”

  “Sorry. I’m good.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s been too long since you’ve slept well. You need to sleep. Pull over.”

  “You ain’t in any state to drive, either.”

  “I’m not going to drive. We need to sleep.”

  “We can’t stay here. Gotta keep going. What we need is to get out of Nevada.”

  “Yeah, alive. Pull off somewhere, please.”

  I wince at the whine that creeps into my voice. Will doesn’t seem to notice. I move close to him and put my hands on his shoulder. I want him to look at me. He does.

  “Will. Pull over.”

  He’s so tired that his eyelid flickers a little as he looks at me. His pupils are glassy and his gaze is distant. There’s a road to the left, leading out to who-knows-what. But at least it’s off the main highway.

  “Take this road,” I demand.

  He listens to me and turns off onto a road that’s more dust than pavement. A few miles down there’s a bend in the road and we take it, feeling secure, as though that curve can hide us from every last thing that’s chasing us down.

  We tuck in behind a ten-foot shrub with thick leaves and climb into the backseat. Will wants me to lie next to him, but I shake my head and sit at one end of the seat, coaxing him to settle his head in my lap.

  He does, and we spend countless moments staring at each other, letting our emotions—the ones we’re admitting and the ones we’re trying to hide—linger in the thin air between us. I sense his love, I wonder about his fear, his worry, if he feels those things the way I do. Am I hiding mine enough? Can he guess at the uncertainty growing in me, or is it too late to feel any of this? I rest one hand on his cheek, feel the soft mixed with the solid of his skin, and tangle the other in his hair. The strands run between my fingers like a stream of water. He closes his eyes with the tiniest of smiles playing at the corners of his mouth. How much more will it take to return that smile to his face in full? I silently promise him that I’ll make it happen. We’ll get through this darkness, find our hope again.

  I trace the lines of his jaw, press my thumb over his lips. Lips that kiss me and love me and say my name. Lips that promise me everything he could possibly promise another person.

  We are full of unfulfilled promises, me and Will.

  I kiss his eyelids, his eyebrows. His breath slows as I touch him, so softly, my fingers, my lips, whispers on his face. I don’t take my eyes off him. For some reason, it feels like the last time I can be this selfish, I can look at him for as long as I want to.

  His throat beats a steady rhythm, and I touch his neck, marveling at how consistent and quiet his heartbeat is in his sleep when he’s so intense and dynamic when he’s awake. I love both sides of him: the one that soothes me and the one that can scare me.

  I return my finger to his lips and follow them with my own lips, taking in the taste of him, stealing his breath, drowning in him. He kisses me back in his sleep and I tremble for his reaction that is so instinctive and affectionate.

  “This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” I whisper against his mouth. “But I’m with you, so I’ll take it for now. Whatever happens, I love you. I always will. I know you can hear this, even though you’re not awake. I know you’ll remember it.”

  I place my hand on his warm chest, settling into the slow rise and fall of his breathing like the gentle swaying rhythm of a rocking chair. I lean my cheek against the back of the seat and rest my chin on my shoulder. With a lingering wish that I could make him more comfortable, that I could take every pain from him and set it free, I close my eyes.

  WILL

  IT’S DARK STILL WHEN I WAKE UP TWO HOURS LATER. A real night dark. I can’t believe I slept so long when we don’t got no time, but at least it’s good for driving. Night is protecting. Zoe’s asleep, her head fallen forward and her hair dangling on both sides of her face. I tuck the pieces back behind her ear, and she moves, resting her cheek back against the seat.

  Her breath is a wistful sigh.

  I sit up suddenly, take her face in my hands, and kiss her mouth. I take the sound from her and replace it with the passion that don’t never let go of me when I’m with her. I only feel a little bit guilty waking her, but when her eyes flutter open and watch me all sleepy and sweet and her hand comes around to rest on my leg, I ain’t sorry no more. I kiss her again, and her lips and face are soft, but I barely notice ’cause I want her painfully. Her hair brushes my jaw. I feel it in my stomach, my hip bones, my toes.

  My body feels urgent. The chaos we’ve created makes me need her more. The things we been doing, the distractions, they make me forget how right we feel when it’s just us. When the world ain’t creeping in. This is the perfect we been aiming for.

  When she wraps her arms around me and pulls close, I feel like I’ve got the most important thing in the world. There’s an o
cean current roaring and swirling inside of me, but I force my clumsy hands to be as gentle as possible. I want to love her the best I can, even though … ’cause of … the stupid things I been doing.

  All I wanna do is hold her. Never speak another word ’cept to tell her how I feel about her. I tuck her into me, dragging my mouth across her cheek, to her temple, around her earlobe. I pull her hair into a ponytail, hold it tight in my hands, so I can reach the pale skin behind her ear. She moves under my touch. I breathe on the side of her neck and realize her hands are under my shirt. But it ain’t even a moment like that, like I want to toss her clothes aside and get as close to her as possible. No, it’s just this sweetness, the taste of her and the smell of her and everything we feel, everything we know, together.

  Nothing, no one else, has ever gotten this from me, has made me feel this way—this need to have restraint. It’s kind of weird and hard, but my mind having control over my body makes me proud, like it’s something I want to do more.

  I pull back and watch her eyes, and she looks at me like I’m a hero and, damn, I just want to look away, ’cause I know better.

  “I want to …” she begins in a murmur that sends shivers down my arms. She tugs at my shirt, trying to show me what she can’t finish saying.

  “Not here.”

  “I don’t care. Anywhere.”

  “I care. You’re better than here. Than the back of a car.”

  Her lashes flutter as she winces at my words. She settles into thoughts she ain’t sharing with me. But her cheeks are crimson. I didn’t mean to embarrass her. Not this time.

  “I mean it. You’re so beautiful. You deserve better than this.”

  I gotta whisper the words ’cause there’s this quiet over us that can’t be broken. If it is, then the world’s gonna know it can come in and break into our moments. We gotta be hidden here in this new world we made. Just silence keeping all the shit of the real world away. In our world I can touch her and love her until I explode with how I gotta have her looking at me that way all the time.

  “What if it’s the last—”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “We don’t know if—I—”

  I press my thumb against her lips, run it across her cheekbone. The cheekbone that’s looking so much better. Pink and pale and pretty. With just an edging of bruise to remind me of all the man that I gotta be for her. I’ll do anything for her.

  “We have to go. What about … maybe … California. Go see Misty. Maybe she can help us.”

  “I think—Will, she has a family. We can’t drag her into this.”

  Her speech is just as quiet as mine, ’cause we’re busy hiding from the police and the FBI and fights and fists in our steel-and-chipped-paint Camaro cave.

  I wonder what Misty’s kids are like. If they’re happy, if they get good grades and play sports or the piano or something like that. Stuff normal kids do. Zoe’s right. I can’t get them involved.

  “No, we’re on our own, aren’t we?”

  Fear flashes in her eyes. I don’t know how much longer she can handle this. She ain’t as hard as me.

  I pull away and kiss her quickly and we climb back into our seats. I start the engine and hear her sigh as we pull back onto the highway.

  ZOE

  THERE’S SOMETHING PERMANENT, SOMETHING CAN’T-look-back about crossing the border into California. The farther we get from Vegas, from the plans we had, the future we’d imagined, the less I feel like I recognize this road we’re taking. How long can I stall our progress before hope is lost for good?

  I worry I’m going to be sick.

  “Will, can we stop for a second?”

  “We just did … ,” he begins, but his voice trails off when he looks at my face. “Yeah. Sure.”

  The headlights crossing over the road are the only things illuminating the desert. Even the moon has gone into hiding.

  I grab a few fast food napkins and a tampon and stumble in the opposite direction as Will. I know I should make noise, that it would scare scorpions and other creatures away, but my instinct fails me. Or maybe it’s my instinct that’s telling me to be quiet: it’s dark.

  When I decide that the shadow a few yards in front of me is indeed a shrub, I head right for it. I’ve never peed on a bush before, but there’s a primal satisfaction to it. I’m a dog marking its territory. Zoe was here.

  Back at the car, Will and I wash our hands with the last of the water in the water bottle. Drips of water cascade onto the dirt, sending droplets of mud up my pant leg.

  It’s splatters of black on dark blue, and the more I stare, the more the spots swirl together, the less I can see anything but those dirty spots on my clean jeans.

  I can’t get the mud off. I can’t wash these jeans. Not while we’re running.

  I brush my hands down my legs, slowly at first, hoping to clean away the mud, then fast, faster, as the mud smears and spreads. I’m only making it worse.

  I can’t stop making it worse.

  I press my wrists into my eyes to hold back the screams that are building up. All because of a few bits of mud. I breathe against the sobs. Dig my fists painfully into my eye sockets. Get a grip. I have to get a grip.

  I force my hands to my sides, squeeze my eyes shut, and bite the inside of my mouth. Blood races through my limbs like a raging mistral. My heart flutters like chimes.

  Stop, Zoe.

  Will can take care of everything.

  I choke back a sob.

  Do I have to believe that? He wants me to be strong. What if I choose to use that strength to overcome the evil my dad put me through—by myself? Stop letting him or anyone, even Will, lead my destiny, lead me, by the reins?

  “Zoe?”

  I try to answer, but my mouth is full of tears and I feel ridiculous and childish.

  Will he think I’m betraying him? Am I? Is it possible, anymore, to do the right thing? As though I know what that could be. Why can’t being happy, being free, be the right thing? Why can’t we go back to when Will and I believed we could have the right thing?

  “We can’t do this. We can’t go on like this, running and scared and criminal.” My chest heaves against him, erratic and unstable. I have to stop this sobbing. I have to be strong for us, as strong as he is. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with me, what he’s supposed to do. My fists flail in the desert air. I stamp my feet in the rock and sand. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I scream.

  Will pulls me against him, and that doesn’t help at all.

  I scream again. Something unintelligible. I know it’s a tantrum, but it feels so good.

  His hands tremble against my back.

  “It’s not okay. It’s not. But it’s gonna be. I didn’t know it would—you got every right to feel like I screwed up your life. But I’m gonna take care of you. I’ll protect you, I promise. Nothing can happen to you now. We’re almost there. It will be okay, Zoe, I promise.”

  I bury my face in his shirt, grip his upper arms as hard as I can.

  “Will!”

  “Shhh.”

  I breathe. Shake my head. Raise my face to his so he can see the agony I feel when I speak.

  “I want to go home.”

  I watch his chest seize at my words, and it’s a horrible sight, then a horrible sound.

  “Where you are is home to me. Why can’t I be that—” He chokes on the pain I’ve caused, the disappointment I am. I want to tell him he is home, he is the place I feel safest, but my tongue’s in knots over the best way to make him believe that. Especially when I’m starting to realize that the home I want, the Will I want, is the one who doesn’t have to run from things anymore.

  He clears his throat. “I won’t let you go home and die like your mom. I won’t let him do that to you.”

  “No, don’t say that, not like that.”

  “He killed her, Zoe. He killed your mom and he’d have killed you, too. Maybe not your body, but your inside. … He was already killing you. I love you.
More than that. I’ll take care of you. Believe me. I promise.”

  “Stop it, Will. Stop it! Stop promising me things you can’t deliver. No more promises! We can’t go on like this. We can’t do this, this life of running, running, always hiding from everyone. That’s not a life!”

  “My life is where you are.” How can his voice be so calm when I can’t stop yelling? “If they take you from me, I ain’t got a life.”

  With a fistful of his shirt, I pull him close and search his face. How can I change this path when it means we’ll be torn apart?

  “Listen to me,” I whisper. “We can fix all of this. I’ll tell them I came with you, because I did. Tell them it was self-defense with my dad, because it was. You’re not a bad person. We’re not bad people!”

  “I killed a man.”

  “Will.” Our bodies feel like one, my legs glued to his, my stomach flattened against his, our breath intermingled. How will we survive if we are ripped from each other? How will we survive if our spirits die for what we’ve done? “It was an accident. They’ll see that. They have to see that!”

  “They ain’t gonna see that, dammit! They’re gonna see what they wanna see.”

  “Will,” I choke, my resolve fading as my words echo across the desert. “We have to do the right thing.”

  “I ain’t gonna let them take you. I ain’t gonna let them take you back to your dad.”

  “I can handle him now. Don’t you believe me? I’m stronger now.”

  “You are stronger. Are you strong enough? And what about me? I ain’t so smart as you, so quick to figure it all out.” He’s a child, a boy with hair in his eyes and pleading in his mouth. “I still need you.”

  He presses his face and his hands into my hair and squeezes me to him, as though he could form us into one creature, as though he could form us into a rock structure, unbreakable and unremarkable, that no one would notice out here in the desert.

  WILL

  IT AIN’T THAT SHE’S FALTERING ON US. ON ME. I KNOW that ain’t it. Zoe loves me. She’s just never known what it’s like to not be scared of something. Like, maybe she needs to be scared of something, even. It’s normal for her. It’s her way.