Chapter 32
Going to the nearest town would have been what the men expected us to do, so the rest of the night I watched the hazy glow of civilization give way to day, as my dreams of a quick and swamp-less escape went down the drain.
We needed to stay in the wilds a while yet. Skipping the nearest town in favor of traveling further was a far more unpleasant path, but the lesser of two dangers.
The farther we got in the woods, and the longer it took to pick up our trail, the wider the net the Wardens would have to cast. And I wanted that net to be stretched so thin and threadbare that it left a Delilah and Three-sized hole right at the edge of it.
Getting thwacked with branches left, right, and center, I tried to stay positive. I really did. It was my plan after all, but every single part of me hurt. My feet, roughly bandaged, hurt. My joints hurt. My back hurt. Behind my eyeballs hurt.
To top it all off, Three and I were supposed to be playing the quiet game, but she gave up on that some time ago and had begun humming her prophecy song.
Squabbling with her was a losing battle, it took too much time and energy to get her to quiet when there wasn’t an active threat nearby. And I didn’t want to become the woman-who-cried-wolf and have Three fail to silence when the danger was real.
Doing my best to ignore the tune, I managed to forage persimmons, pawpaws, chicory, dandelions, wild grapes, and hickory nuts, to supplement our granola bar rations, but the portions were meager, and worked only to delay the hunger that gnawed at our insides.
Three also may have gotten a disproportionate amount of the rations because she stopped making noise whenever she ate something. And the pounding in my head was momentarily numbed whenever there was complete and utter silence.
Oh, what I wouldn’t have given for some peace and quiet.
But alas, Three’s humming looped and looped and looped and—
We made it three days in the flooded woods, three full days, and I’d had enough.
What I was doing wasn’t tenable, I knew that. I did. Whether from enduring the elements, or Three, I wouldn’t survive like this much longer. There wasn’t much more I could take. Whatever cluster of buildings we found next was where I’d make my move. The next—
There was a rumble of an engine in the distance. Then the tell-tale sounds of a car accelerating.
It was a road, yes, but it sounded like an intersection. With a stop light. And if there was a stop light, we were getting close to a populated area. Maybe even a town.
Ignoring the chill blooming in my bones, and the ache in my joints, hope flooded my chest. “Do you hear that, Three?”
“Hear what?”
“Shh, listen.”
More cars, more tires accelerated on asphalt. A brief double honk.
“Are those…”
“Cars, and we’re going to need to be quiet until I say otherwise. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
We quick-stepped towards the sounds of civilization, scrambling over the underbrush, getting nicked by thorny vegetation, and—
There it was.
A beautiful beautiful sight to behold.
If I weren’t so dehydrated the view would have brought a tear to my eye. But I needed to keep it together as I took in the magnificent collection of gas stations, convenience stores, fast-food restaurants, and coffee shops. The full parking lot. The smell of gasoline and french fries.
And there, at the far end of the pavement, was a large green box.
“Oh my god.”
Three crowded next to me covering her ears as a jacked-up pickup roared by. “What? What is it?”
“That,” I pointed, the mud caked on my cheeks cracking, “is a clothing donation bin.”
Which would have to wait, admired from afar, until nightfall.
And so, we waited.
And waited, in the vegetation, for night to fall.
We waited until the halogen street lights blinked on in all their electric glory, then together, we dashed, hand-in-hand, towards the bin.
One last stretch before shoes, and pants, and anything other than the shapeless, formerly blue, hospital gowns plastered to us like a second skin.
One last stretch, and we’d shrink the size of the targets on our backs.
The asphalt rippled. The lights swayed.
Nothing was going to get in the way of my good mood, as Three and I came to a stop in the glow of the donation bin.
“I’m going to need you to go in there and get us clothes, Three.” She looked at me like I had two heads. “Something big enough to hide this.” I gestured at my belly.
“You shouldn’t hide it’s beaut—”
I levelled her with a glare.
“Okay, fine. But you don’t let me get stuck in there, okay?”
The door beneath the chute had a rusted padlock. I wrapped my hand in the extra fabric of my hospital gown and gave the handle a rough yank. The lock clanked and fell to the ground, broken. “Deal.”
?
Three rummaged around in the bin for a while, and came out with just about the ugliest outfit I could imagine.
Of course, she had the biggest grin on her face.
“There’s so much color!” she said as she passed me a pile of clothes that appeared to consist entirely of denim. “And look, my sweater has a funky boat!”
Three was wearing a top that had once been a souvenir from Venice, hot pink velour track pants, and the thickest pair of slide sandals I’d ever seen in my life.
“What? Why are you smiling like that?” Three looked down at her outfit. “Am I not fashionable?”
“It’s very you,” I replied as I uncrumpled the pile of clothes meant for me.
I had to do everything in my power not to laugh. Out loud.
Apparently, she thought what I needed was a pair of paint-splattered overalls, a faded orange shirt with yellow sleeves, embroidered with a strange daisy that told me to “Have a nice day, bae.” Whatever that meant. And for shoes, a pair of orange rubber clogs.
My ribs contracted. Fluttered. Air choked my throat. Involuntarily, I… snorted.
And now, I was full on laughing. Whoops.
“Did I do something wrong?” She was genuinely concerned.
“No, no, I’m... I’m laughing because it’s perfect.” I thought speaking would slow down my laughter, but it only gained momentum. “I love it.”
To be honest, it all fit very well too. My stomach was barely noticeable, and even then, that was only if I really looked.
“You did a great job, really.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, I tilted my head to bathe in the glow of the streetlight overhead. “Thank you.”
?
With a somewhat clean outfit, and finger brushed hair, I managed to sneak us both into the restroom of the nearest fast-food restaurant. Without removing any clothes, we washed what we could in the sink, appearing halfway presentable.
I just hoped it was enough to convince someone to let me use their phone.
If the building had an accessible landline, it was my best bet. People were reluctant to give out their cellphones most days, and the odds were not in my favor if I looked like I might be the type of person to scurry away with it. Which I most definitely did.
Of course, my other option was pickpocketing, but my nerves and muscles were shot, my head was still pounding, and I was fairly certain the floor was moving.
Landline first, then begging.
With Three under strict orders to stay in the restroom until I retrieved her, I approached the teenager at the register. My stomach gurgling at the scent of fried food, smoke, and pickles, I solidified my story.
It was quick and simple: I went for a hike, fell into a swamp, and lost my phone. Losing my phone meant losing my map, and now I needed to call someone to pick me up.
It worked, with not a single follow-up question asked.
The reluctant teen watched as I pressed the chunky receiver to my cheek—the short-coiled wire tethering me directly in front of the register—and they kept their attentions on me as I listened to the endless ringing on the other end.
Pick up, pick up.
Click. “The person you are trying to reach is not available. Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system.”
What did I expect to happen? Everyone had caller ID and I was calling from a random landline in the middle of nowhere.
I tried again.
“The person you are trying to reach is—”
And again.
“The person—”
Again, but this time I waited for the answering machine to pick up before saying, “Hi, Todd, it’s me, listen, I—”
Click. Crap, I’d been cut off there was… there was a sharp intake of breath on the other line.
“Todd? Todd, if you’re there, grunt once if you can—”
Grunt.
It was deep and perfect. My hands started to shake. “Listen, we’re…” I looked around and realized I didn’t have an exact address. The teen quickly filled in the blanks, and I relayed our location to Todd. “How soon can you get here?”
By the combination of sounds, I took it to mean three hours. Just three more hours, and I’d be closer to safety. Closer to home.
“And Todd, just you, okay? No team, no Jack.”
Nose exhale.
“Please.”
Silence.
“Todd, I’ll explain, but I—"
There was some zipping and what sounded like the click of a door unlocking. Grunt.
“Thank you.”
There was a familiar grumble on the line before I hung up, which could only mean one thing:
Todd was coming for us.