Chapter 6
Eli
Deep down, I didn’t believe the plan would work out. If the cops caught us, Cesar would end up arrested too, paying the consequences of taking my side. But I’m not good enough of a person to reject help when it’s freely offered. So I let him lead.
A shed behind the grotto contained a snowmobile. Its absence was unlikely to be discovered until morning. By that time, Cesar and I were hours away, on our third stolen vehicle.
I don’t know where my savior learned how to start cars using cables, but I don’t question it as long as he’s taking me away from the manhunt. I can imagine special ops soldiers are trained in things like that.
My anxiety levels after the killing were through the roof, but Cesar’s presence, his confidence and leadership lulls me into such relaxation after the flood of adrenaline that I doze off in the sturdy SUV.
I’m used to sleeping in a car anyway, but this one’s got heated seats, a luxury I didn’t even dream of.
A rumble wakes me up. I’m covered with a blanket, cozy like a marshmallow between two crackers, only my feet turning into icicles.
Maybe it’s good for my swollen ankle? But as I blink away sleep, a lightning bolt cuts through the dark gray sky swollen with clouds.
Wet snow hits our windshield so fast the wipers can barely handle it.
It’s Cesar’s hands that make me worry though. He’s squeezing the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. If he’s nervous, I am too.
“Everything okay? What did I sleep through?” I ask and admire the tall trees.
I hope we’re close to that cabin, because the route ahead might become impassable with such intense snowfall.
The vehicle shakes over a series of potholes just as that thought passes through my mind.
I blink away the haze of sleep to notice we’re going through a dense tunnel of trees that look straight out of a Tim Burton production, complete with bare witchy limbs.
If we get stuck here, at least we’ll freeze to death before anyone can stumble upon us.
“The blizzard’s slowing us down, but we should be there very soon,” Cesar tells me in a strained voice, leaning forward, as if he expects a massive grizzly to storm straight at us from the veil of snow ahead.
“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.
Thank you.” I need him to know how grateful I am.
He has his reasons to help me, but I’m feeling guilty I slept while he drove through the night.
“Us Sullivan haters gotta stick together, right?” I joke to lighten the mood and hold my hand out for a high five.
Cesar glances my way, and my heart sinks when I see that the unnatural tension is still twisting his face as much as it does the muscles in his hands.
He doesn’t high-five me, so I let my hand fall awkwardly.
Is he regretful about helping me after all?
But before I can think of a way to ask, he hits the brakes so rapidly I almost hit my head on the window.
When I look up, the headlights shine straight at a wooden porch far up a long driveway.
“We’re here,” Cesar mutters, offering me a tense smile. I hope the way he’s acting doesn’t mean he is a serial killer. One that takes out murderers like me.
“Oh good. Wow, and it’s not just some shack,” I smile back, unfastening my seatbelt. The storm outside rumbles again, and I have to fight the wind to open the car door. I’m so eager to be inside even if it’s probably as cold as a freezer.
The cabin is a wooden structure, with a sloped roof, but it’s hard to see much more when wet snow slaps me in the face, and a gust of wind is intent on tipping me over, into the slushy carpet covering the ground.
I didn’t used to be such a weakling, but the lost weight and a year living out of a car has taken its toll on me.
I’m about to dip my foot in the dense snow when a dark silhouette looms on the edge of my vision. I can hardly breathe from the sudden fright, but then I smell a pleasant, herby scent and relax into Cesar’s arms.
“Hold me around the neck. We need to watch that ankle,” he shouts so I can hear him over the howling wind.
I’ve not been touched in so long I don’t know what to do with that request and helplessly raise my arms instead of following the order. “Oh? I… Oh, it’s fine. I’ll manage. The snow will be like a cold compress.” I laugh it off, but my heartbeat speeds up by the second.
Fuck.
I have to admit it.
I’ve got a little crush on him.
Who wouldn’t? He’s so fucking competent.
Bought me dinner, saved me from arrest, and made sure I had a blanket.
Let’s be honest—it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as fuck either.
I don’t have to see him naked to know he’s ripped under that jacket.
And that face? He’s one of those guys who walks the fine line between being ridiculously handsome and not standing out too much, with a wide nose, shapely jaw and eyes like two pieces of coal. Even if one of them is fake.
If he was a porn star, I would watch each of his movies and spend my nights dreaming about bumping into him one day.
But he’s here.
He’s saved me.
And even though he’s likely straight, the perspective of physical closeness is paralyzing. Because what if my body reacts and that sets him off?
Would he hand me over to the cops if he knew I’ve sucked him off in my dreams?
I stop breathing when Cesar grabs my hands and leads them to his shoulders, and then, he plucks me out of the car, into his arms.
I gasp when he picks me up with ease. I might be skinny, but I’m still a grown man.
No one ever picks me up. I feel like a fucking princess as he carries me up the winding driveway bridal style.
The wind howls around us, and he squeezes me harder when lightning strikes again, as if he wants to protect me from that too.
I could feel like prey being taken to the serial killer’s lair for dismemberment, but Cesar is warm, smells nice, and carries me with the confidence of a knight saving the damsel from a burning castle.
He must have really hated Sullivan. Thinking about it makes my heart swell with pride. I did that. I killed the fucker. Maybe it wasn’t for Cesar, but he benefited all the same. Maybe we’re both knights. It’s just that now I’m injured, so he needs to save me, keep me warm in the storm—
I have to stop fantasizing. I’m a homeless fugitive with only one good shoe. Reality is what it is. I probably smell. Or is the orange and cinnamon still clinging to my clothes? I can’t tell anymore.
And yet, I lean into him all the same, because I’ve not had a hug in years.
I’m so starved for this connection it’s embarrassing even if Cesar doesn’t know what’s going on in my head.
He stiffens when thunder crashes above us again, icy shards hitting my bare cheek like tiny needles, but then his shoes thud on the wooden porch, and the small cabin protects us from the elements even though we aren’t inside yet.
Cesar fumbles with the keys, but once the door bangs open, we step inside.
It’s not… ideal, since the place is blackout-dark and smells of frost, but I can’t complain when I had a jail cell as my alternative.
“Fuck… never been here in winter,” Cesar mumbles, setting me down on the couch covered with a plastic sheet.
“Thanks,” I say, a bit flustered and feeling as if my debt with him is growing. I need to do something for him or I’ll implode.
I get up as fast as he sets me down, and despite limping a bit, I pull off the plastic cover and look around. The shutters on the windows make the place dark, as if it’s the middle of the night, but I get their purpose if no one lives here.
“Do we have electricity here? Water? Fireplace? I don’t want to bother you if you’d rather just go to sleep after the drive, but I want to be useful.”
Cesar is out on the porch. The wind pushes the door in farther, but I can’t take my eyes away from that tall, sharp silhouette.
He’s hunching, as if bracing for something to dash at him from the storm.
When that doesn’t happen, his feet move, and soon, he’s out of my sight, gone in the blizzard.
Immediately, I feel a sense of loss and distract myself by searching for a flashlight.
There is one on the dusty coffee table, and it comes to life the moment I flip the switch.
Its wide beam reveals bare log walls. To the right of the couch Cesar deposited me on is a compact kitchen, with a small fridge, basic utensils, and a single gas burner, but before I can work out if there’s anything to cook with, something growls, and the electric clock nearby comes to life.
So maybe Cesar went out to turn on the generator.
This means the place might have heating other than the fireplace.
I wonder why he became so quiet, but maybe he’s just tired after a long drive.
I’ll ask him if he wants to eat when he comes back.
In the meanwhile, I pick up some trash to keep myself useful.
A can on the counter, an empty packet of chips.
I pick up a chair that was on the floor as I explore the living room and peel the plastic sheets off furniture.
The house is utilitarian in nature. No pictures on the walls, no particular color scheme, not even a deer head trophy for some rustic character.
I’m not being critical, just assessing the place that might become my haven for a while.
If anything, I’m excited to sleep under a roof instead of in my car.
I’ll miss the few books I had to leave behind, the bundle of photos I had to remember my family by before it all went to shit.
As impractical as it is, I had a Christmas garland I made with my mom as a kid in there and a few very personal baubles.
Nothing fancy, but it stings that I’ll never see any of those items again.