Chapter 4 - Rebecca #2
"A gas station called Earl's, off a service road about two miles east of the prison."
"I know it. Stay put. I'll be there in twenty minutes. And Rebecca? If you're lying to me..."
The threat remains unfinished, but I get the message. "We'll be waiting. Please hurry."
I hang up, exhale slowly, then move through the store collecting supplies.
Water bottles, protein bars, a first aid kit, pain relievers.
They have a small rack of clothing, mostly touristy t-shirts and caps.
I grab the largest shirt they have, a dark blue one with "Pine Haven Fishing" printed on it.
As I approach the counter with my purchases, Earl stares at me.
"You alright, miss? You seem a bit... rattled."
I force a smile. "Just having car trouble down the road. My friend's waiting while I get some supplies and call for help."
He nods, though his expression suggests he's not entirely convinced. "Where you broken down at? I can call Pete's Towing for you."
"Oh, that's okay. A friend is already on his way to help. But thank you."
Earl rings up my items slowly, still watching me. "You hear about that commotion at the prison? Police scanner's been going crazy. Some kind of riot. They say some inmates might've escaped."
My heart pounds, but I keep my expression neutral. "Really? That's scary. Hopefully they'll catch them quickly."
"Mmm." He bags my items. "That'll be twenty-seven fifty."
I count out the cash from my wallet, aware of how few bills remain. I hadn't exactly prepared for life on the run when I went to work this morning.
"Be careful out there," Earl says as he hands me my change. "Never know who you might run into these days."
Is that a warning? Does he suspect something? I can't tell, but I don't want to stay long enough to find out.
"Thanks. Have a good day," I reply, taking my bag and heading for the door.
Once outside, I circle back around to where I left James, moving casually until I'm out of Earl's line of sight, then quickening my pace.
James is right where I left him, though his eyes are closed, his breathing shallow. Fear spikes through me. I drop to my knees beside him.
"James?"
His eyes flutter open, focusing on me with effort. "Rebecca. You're back."
Relief floods me. "I reached Dice. He's on his way. Twenty minutes." I open one of the water bottles. "Drink this."
He takes the bottle with shaking hands, sipping slowly. "Good work."
I remove the first aid kit from my bag and open it, pleased to find it reasonably well-stocked. While James drinks, I change his bandage, cleaning around the wound as best I can. The stitches are holding, but the area is angry and red—the beginning signs of infection.
"I got you a shirt," I tell him, showing him the blue Pine Haven Fishing tee. "It's not great, but it's better than a bloody prison uniform."
"Thanks." His voice is weaker than before, concerning me.
I help him change, trying to maintain some semblance of professional detachment as I ease the clean shirt over his tattooed torso.
It's not easy. Even injured and exhausted, there's something magnetic about him.
The extensive tattoos covering his arms and chest tell stories I find myself wanting to hear.
I push those thoughts away. This isn't the time or place for... whatever this feeling is.
"Dice is coming," I say, focusing on what matters. "We just need to hold on a little longer."
James nods, leaning his head back against the tree. "Did anyone in the store recognize you?"
"I don't think so. The owner seemed suspicious, but I don't think he connected me to the prison."
"Good." His eyes close again. "You should go, Rebecca."
I stare at him. "What?"
"When Dice gets here. You should go home, pretend none of this happened. You're not in any system yet, and Miller won’t probably say anything. Cops don’t like confessing to losing fights. You can go back to your life."
“I'm not abandoning you."
"It's not abandoning. It's saving yourself. I'm a convicted felon on the run. Walsh's men are hunting me. This only ends badly."
"I made my choice when I left the infirmary with you," I say firmly. "Besides, you need medical care that your brother can't provide."
He opens his eyes, staring at me with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don't.
"Why?" he asks softly. "Why risk everything for a stranger? For a criminal?"
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself since the moment I decided to help him escape. The logical answer involves my medical oath, my duty to preserve life. But the truth goes deeper, touches on something more.
"I told you about my father," I say instead. The words still feel strange on my tongue. Speaking about him, acknowledging his existence to someone else. "He died because the prison system saw him as disposable. Just another inmate. Not worth saving."
James watches me, silent, waiting.
"I became a nurse because I believe everyone deserves care. Everyone deserves a chance. Even—" I almost say 'even criminals,' but catch myself. "Especially those society has written off."
"Your father," James asks, breathing ragged. "What was he in for?"
"Armed robbery," I admit quietly. "He was desperate. Wanted to help my mother. She had cancer, and he made a bad choice."
"Like father, like daughter," he murmurs. "Both helping the people no one else will."