Chapter 12
The roar of Nurse Patrick’s truck coming back to life makes me cringe again as I sit in the bed of the truck.
I whip my head from side to side anxiously, but I don’t see any carriers coming for us.
I breathe out in relief. Bless the Midwest for sticking these mega stores in the middle of nowhere off the highway.
“Where to?” asks Nurse Patrick through the back window. “You said you wanted to follow the river?”
“Yeah. It was Lucia’s idea, actually. That way we always have access to food, water, and isolation. Seems worth a shot.”
“How much gas do we have?” asks Keisha.
“We’re almost out. We need to stop somewhere soon,” Nurse Patrick says with worry creasing his brow.
“Then let’s not waste it,” I say, sliding the back window closed and finding a place to sit among our new gear.
We head southeast toward Bartonville on Highway 24. The highway is much easier to navigate than the inner-city blocks. There are far fewer abandoned cars and bodies to navigate, and we move at a much faster clip. But with the extra speed, I imagine the gas in our tank turning to vapors.
My worry lifts a bit when I see a small gas station coming up on our right just outside of Bartonville.
Nurse Patrick slows, but my hope sinks quickly and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, telling me this is not a good idea.
Outside of the gas station, six pickup trucks block the entrance and exit, and three men with shotguns stand guard. I slide open the back window.
“Keep moving. This isn’t our stop.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” Nurse Patrick says, speeding up a little.
Keisha, Lucia, and I duck our heads as we pass up the resource we desperately need. This might be more difficult than we thought. The next two towns give similar results. In Mapleton we’re followed out of town, our pursuers only turning back once they’re sure we’re moving on to the next town.
I peer through the window and see our needle dip squarely within the red. If we don’t stop at the next station, we’ll be walking soon.
I slide open the window. “Pull over,” I say.
Nurse Patrick does as I ask and turns off the engine.
“We need a plan,” he says.
“My thoughts exactly,” I say, but I have nothing to suggest. My best idea is to run our truck over anyone standing in the way of the pumps.
Somehow, I doubt Nurse Patrick will go for that.
I glance at Keisha, and I can tell her wheels are turning, but she stays quiet.
I sigh and try to think through our options aloud.
“The way I see it, we have a few choices,” I begin. “We can take what we want by force, try to bargain with them, or convince them that they want to help us. It’s that or we start breaking in these new boots,” I say.
“We don’t have a lot to bargain with, and I’m not confident we could take anything by force.
What do you have in mind for option three?
” Nurse Patrick asks. Like magic, I see Keisha’s eyes light up.
She’s got something, but that flash of brilliance fades almost as fast as it appears. She’s holding back.
“Say it,” I push her.
She looks hesitant, but with a little more convincing, she finally spills her idea. It’s risky, especially for her, but it could work. It’s not like we have a lot of options anyway.
* * *
We shuffle our seating arrangements before driving into Kingston Mines.
Keisha takes the driver’s seat, and I ride shotgun because I don’t know the first thing about driving.
Nurse Patrick, Lucia, Ginger, and January lie down in the back of the truck, covering themselves with our gear and one of the plastic tarps from the sporting goods store.
Keisha and I will pretend to be alone.
Keisha is not a great driver. Her jerky movements make me doubt we’ll even make it to Kingston Mines in one piece, but after a mile or so she seems to get the hang of it.
Predictably, when we roll into the small town, we see the gas station is guarded, just like the others. Two men in cop uniforms and bulletproof vests stand at attention with their hands on their weapons as we pull up to the pumps.
“Smile, Quinn. It’s showtime!” she urges with a little twinkle in her eye as she rolls down the passenger-side window. She’s in her element now.
I do as she says, hoping I’m lifting my eyebrows just right so my smile reaches my eyes and comes off as genuine, but somehow I doubt they’ll even give me a passing glance.
Beside me, Keisha is absolutely magnetic.
“Hi there, officers!” Keisha says sweetly, waving timidly, batting her eyelashes just enough.
“Girls, please show us your hands,” the tall one says firmly.
We do as he says, but Keisha doesn’t miss a beat.
“Officers, we’re so glad to see you. I’m Keisha, and this is my friend Quinn.
We’re students up at Bradley University, and it’s just a mess up there.
We’re hoping to find a few gallons of gas to help us get to Quinn’s dad’s farm downstate, where we can ride this out.
Are you still selling gas?” she says, tilting her head just right with the most innocent smile I’ve ever seen.
“I’m afraid not, young lady. This pump’s for locals only. You’d be wise to move on down the road,” the short one says stoically, hand on his weapon.
Young lady. The words grate on my nerves, and I have to breathe deeply to make sure my annoyance doesn’t show on my face.
“Officer, I surely understand the need to protect your own. I hope you don’t think we’d ever want to take from those in need. We’d happily do a trade,” Keisha tries.
“Move along, girls,” the tall one says, gripping his weapon tighter.
“Okay, sir,” Keisha says, her voice wobbling.
“I just… I just don’t know how we’ll make it is all.
” She sniffles softly, and two perfect tears drip down her cheeks.
She hiccups right on cue and wipes at her tears, seemingly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think I’d get this emotional.
It’s just that we got turned away in Mapleton and Bartonville too.
We were so lucky to get out of Peoria alive.
I just can’t believe our luck has run out like this. ”
The short cop shifts from his left foot to his right foot uncomfortably and looks down at his shoes. He’s wavering. He elbows the tall cop and whispers something in his ear. When the short cop is finished, he sighs. “What do you have to trade?” the tall one asks, annoyed.
“Well, sir, we don’t have much. We picked up some candy bars on our way out of town.” She holds up a pile of sweets from the sporting goods store. “What will this get us?”
The tall one spits. “That’ll get you a liter.”
“What about a few bottles of pop and a couple pairs of hiking boots? Sizes 7 and 8?” she asks hopefully, still sniffling a bit with hope in her eyes.
Those were our bargaining chips. We can’t afford to give up anything else. If this doesn’t work, we’ll move on to phase two.
“One gallon,” the tall one says. It’s not enough. We need more. Without hesitation, Keisha moves on to the next step in the plan.
“Then, officer, why don’t you name your price?
” She bats her eyelashes a bit, looking down, her cheeks blushing a deep maroon.
It’s not hard to tell what she’s suggesting.
This is exactly how Keisha has navigated through life.
It’s also how she ended up at the Pegasus Center.
I knew she’d be able to seduce them. I knew this was coming.
I try to stay calm, but inside I’m panicking.
I feel an unexpected surge of protectiveness.
I don’t want these goons to lay a single finger on her.
It seemed like a good plan a few minutes ago, but now it tastes sour, and all I want to do is leave.
“Step out of the truck, girls. Let’s talk this out,” the tall one says, smirking.
I lean toward Keisha to unbuckle my seatbelt and whisper angrily, “This is a bad idea. It’s too risky.”
She shushes me quickly. We both step out of the truck and stand in front of the officers.
“That’s a big knife for such a little girl,” the short one says, gesturing at the machete sheathed at my side.
“Can’t be too careful these days,” I say through my teeth.
His smirk falters a bit. His instincts are telling him I’m dangerous, but my size, age, and gender must convince him I’m not a real threat, because he shifts his focus back to Keisha.
“So, about this trade,” the tall one says, licking his lips. I get a sick feeling that nearly makes me double over.
I can’t let her do this. This is the part where Keisha is supposed to start making promises.
This is the part where I’m supposed to demand that we get what we want first, then drive off before we have to hold up our end of the deal.
But something in my gut tells me this isn’t going to work, and I can’t risk it. I can’t risk her.
With their attention on Keisha, I take a subtle step to the right and slowly reach toward my hip for my machete.
The sickening smirk on the tall one’s lips makes my stomach turn. As he reaches up to touch Keisha’s face, I let my machete fly with a backhanded swing, aiming at the short one’s throat. His blood spills quickly, and he stumbles backward, grasping at the wound as if he could stop the flow.
The tall one is stunned stupid, watching his friend bleed out.
He snaps back to reality quickly and reaches for his gun, but his moment of hesitation gives me the advantage.
I yell for Keisha to stand back and swing my machete upward at his hand before it reaches his weapon.
I catch the inside of his wrist, and blood trickles from the wound at a satisfying speed.
He backs away, both hands up as if trying to calm a snarling animal.
“Now, sweetheart, there’s no need for this!” he says desperately. “You can take the gas. As much as you need.” I take two steps toward him, my machete aimed at his belly. I hear the short cop gurgle his last breath behind us.
“You know what? You’re right. There was no need for this. You could have helped us. Just two innocent girls trying to get home,” I say. “But you wanted to play games.”
“Quinn, let’s get the gas and go. I think he’s scared enough,” Keisha says.
“No, I don’t think he is, Keisha. I think he’ll try this again with the next person who comes through looking for help. Won’t you?” I say, moving my machete up toward the soft skin under his chin.
“Your friend is right, girl. You can take what you want. I’ve learned my less—”
I don’t let him finish. I push the machete up slowly into his throat until I feel his spine touch the sharp tip. When I twist the handle, his eyes go wide. I watch until the spark in them goes dim and he slumps to the ground.
“Nurse Patrick!” I shout. “Fill ’er up.”
He’s shaking as he climbs out of the truck bed. When our eyes meet, I think I see disappointment. He looks away quickly but doesn’t waste any time pulling the truck closer to the pump and filling the tank.
When I look at Keisha, she shivers. “You didn’t have to do that. The plan would’ve worked.”
“It did work,” I say flatly. “We got what we came for.” I search her face for any hint of emotion, but she reveals nothing.
What is she thinking? Is she angry? Did I do something wrong?
The questions are maddening. Adrenaline is still buzzing through my veins.
I feel electric. I feel hope that we might actually survive all this.
How could she not feel the same way? Before I can ask, she turns to help Nurse Patrick fill the gas cans.
I head back to the truck and motion for Ginger and January to climb back into the cab.
I get into the truck bed with Lucia and wait for Nurse Patrick and Keisha to finish fueling up.
When Nurse Patrick climbs back into the driver’s seat, Keisha finds her spot next to me.
Lucia curls her small body into Keisha. She gives Lucia a comforting squeeze, then fixes her gaze in the distance, making it obvious she doesn’t want to talk.
I know I should just let it go, but I can’t.
I need to know what she’s thinking, but asking her directly somehow feels too desperate.
“If we keep sticking together like that, we can survive this,” I say, hoping she’ll give me even a hint of where her head is.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she says. But again, her expression is blank.
I sigh and decide to take her words for what they are.