3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Ben glanced back at Walter standing in front of the rough-hewn cabin with his hand in the air. He stuck his own hand out of the passenger window for one last wave before settling back in the seat.
Trees passed by the edge of his vision as the truck bounced over the uneven ground, but he was too busy fighting the panic welling inside him to notice the scenery. The farther they drove away from the cabin, the more his breathing sped up. Shit. He needed to get it together.
He was literally leaving behind everything he knew—or could remember. Although, that wasn’t exactly right either. He remembered how to read and write. Who the president was, that Tennessee was the Volunteer State. That he hated calamari. Why could he remember that he hated rubbery seafood but couldn’t remember his own damn name?
He glanced down at his duffel bag sitting at his feet. It was full of the cash and a couple changes of clothes. His breathing sped up again.
“You okay?” Larry asked.
Ben cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“Walter told me that you need an ID.”
Ben looked over at the burly, bearded man driving and nodded when he found him staring back. When Ben didn’t offer any further explanation, Larry turned back to the path. “I can hook you up with that.”
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive, which was okay with Ben. Larry finally pulled up to a farmhouse with a barn and a couple of outbuildings. He parked next to one of the metal buildings and unlocked the padlock on the door.
They entered a large room full of farm equipment, and Ben followed Larry over to the far wall that led into a small office.
Larry walked over to where a chair sat, and pulled down on a rolled-up piece of cloth so that it covered the wall.
He gestured for Ben to sit. And then Larry pulled out a camera from the desk. “Hold still and don’t smile—nobody smiles when they go to the DMV.” Then he chuckled.
Ben was officially in Bizarro World. And where had that thought come from? Comics. Wonderful, he remembered comics but not his own damn life.
“Okay. Got it. It will take me a couple minutes to create it. I’m using a Tennessee license so it will be less suspicious. You won’t have to explain why you’re in the state.”
Unless he had to leave the state to find the mysterious Mia White. Baby steps.
“You have a preference for the name?”
“Just first name—Ben.”
Larry nodded and started typing on the laptop he’d also pulled out from the rickety desk. “Benjamin.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “We don’t want to use too common of a last name like Jones or Smith; that throws up flags too.” He clicked away at the computer. “I don’t want to pick a name of someone too well-known on social media.” Click, click, click. “Okay, I’m going to use Benjamin Wells. Lots of hits on this name, so it’s common enough.”
More typing and then Larry printed out the card and handed it to him. “Don’t try to fly with this ID. And don’t do anything to get pulled over by the cops. You don’t want them to run this license.”
“Got it. Can you help me get to Nashville?”
Larry nodded. “Wanda can do that.”
Who the hell was Wanda?
Ben grabbed his duffel and followed Larry out of the building to another smaller building behind it. Larry opened the large double doors and walked over to a tarp and pulled it off to reveal a late-model blue truck.
“This is Wanda. It belongs to Walter.”
Ben shook his head. “I can’t take this.”
“Walter told me not to take no for an answer. Said you could return it once you get settled. I’ve been keeping it in running order.” Larry opened the door and flipped the back seat up. “There’s a hidden compartment here if you want to keep your valuables in it.”
Ben wasn’t going to ask what the compartment was normally used for.
Larry handed him the keys. “You know how to drive stick?”
Ben nodded and hoped that was true.
“And you’ll need this too.” Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “It’s a burner phone. You can text, and it has a camera as well. You can use data too, but don’t spend a lot of time online; it sucks up the minutes, and the phone is prepaid.”
He nodded even though he didn’t know who exactly he was going to call. “Do I need to pay you for the ID and phone?”
Larry shook his head. “I owed Walter a favor.”
“I don’t want to use his favor.”
Larry chuckled. “I owe him more than one. Now let’s get you going.” Larry rattled off directions to Nashville. “There is a map of Tennessee in the glove box. This truck is too old for navigation.”
“Thanks.”
“You ready to be back in civilization?”
Ben gripped the keys and phone tighter. “Not sure.”
“I don’t blame you—there are a lot of uncivilized people in this supposedly civilized world.”
Ben climbed into the truck and took a deep breath before starting the truck, holding down the clutch, and shifting. Yep, he knew how to drive stick. Muscle memory.
If only the muscle between his ears worked as well. He backed out of the building and waved to Larry before heading out to the main road. He patted the paper he had in his shirt pocket. The one that had John Baker’s address. Walter had explained that it was outside of Nashville and suggested Ben head to the city and set up home base.
Ben planned on finding a cheap motel that wouldn’t blink at him paying cash for the room. Then he would pay John Baker a visit after he did some research on him. Walter suggested the library. Said they had computers he could do his searching on.
He rolled down the window and let the breeze blow the musty air out of the truck. If only he could do the same with his brain. Not knowing who he was wore on his nerves. And he couldn’t forget that someone had tried to kill him. And he had no earthly idea why. It was hard for him to imagine himself as being an innocent victim. An innocent victim with fifty thousand in a duffel bag?
He knew he couldn’t keep living in limbo, but the idea of finding out the truth scared the hell out of him.
What if he hated what he had done? Who he was?