Chapter 12 #2
He arched a brow. “It’s short for Fluffernutter if you must know. Named after the world’s finest sandwich.”
She laughed heartily. “I never understood why you couldn’t use jelly on your peanut butter sandwiches like everyone else on the planet.”
“Because Marshmallow Fluff is sublime, and I’m not like everyone else on the planet.”
“Well, there’s no disputing that.” She unwrapped the purloined cheese sandwich.
“Too bad he didn’t pack two.”
Wet and cold as they were, it was also sublime to be in a moving vehicle with the heater blasting, bumping and jolting as they made their way along the trail. His quads spasmed and he wasn’t sure how he was ever going to pry his body out of the driver’s seat, but for now, it was agonizing bliss.
She divided the sandwich, and they each took half and tried to eat slowly, but the combination of mustard, pickles, and severe hunger had them finishing in minutes. He gulped his like a baby bird after a worm.
“Oh, that was so good,” she said.
“Almost as good as peanut butter and Fluff.”
She rolled her eyes. “At this point I’d happily eat that too.”
“Well, now that you mention it . . . Grab the container behind your seat.”
She snagged the Tupperware and pried open the top. Inside were two neatly filled, squeezable condiment containers, one with Marshmallow Fluff and one with peanut butter.
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? You actually carry dispensers of the stuff?”
“Yes. Jars are too bulky, and I don’t like to get my hands messy. This is my afternoon snack supply.” The box also held two sleeves of saltine crackers.
Her laugh was pure delight. “What? No bread for sandwiches?”
“I was traveling light. Besides, I like the crunch and the hit of salt.”
She seemed to appreciate the logic. “Shall I fix us an after-dinner treat then?”
“Please do.”
With dexterity, she balanced four saltines on her lap and added dollops of peanut butter and a marshmallow swirl to each one.
“Two for you,” she said.
He thanked her and ate them both while she did the same, then they chased them down with pouches of water from his emergency supply. They each drained a pouch completely. The water was so cold it made his molars ache, but he relished every drop.
She closed her eyes and sagged against the seat. “I stand corrected. I’ve been a PB and J fan all my life, but marshmallow and peanut butter really is the world’s best combination.”
Exactly the reason he gravitated to the wilderness—it concentrated blessings down to a strength that could not be ignored. The simple provision of food, water, warmth, companionship. He silently thanked God for it all.
He laughed. “Nice to know I’m right about that at least.” He wondered if he should seize the moment to suggest she change her mind about the airstrip, but he remembered how she recoiled at the fire tower when he’d last brought it up.
At least their route was getting them farther away from the prying eyes of any townspeople whose loyalty Bullseye had bought and paid for.
A small consolation, since they could be walking right into a lethal snare.
Don’t let yourself relax, Gid.
You’re not out of the woods yet.
Not even close.
****
Mackenzie licked a bit of sticky marshmallow from her finger as she steadied herself against the bumps.
The trail grew fouler as it dipped lower, water turning it into a quagmire.
At its lowest reaches, the makeshift road forked into two choices—a soggy path that would undoubtedly get them mired in filth or the paved road.
“No choice,” Gideon said.
She didn’t reply. The route would take them directly past the western turnoff to town, a main frontage road that would be busy with the remaining evacuees. And plenty of prying eyes. No getting around it.
When they passed a string of vehicles packed to the brim with belongings and people, Mackenzie scrunched down in the seat. Gideon kept his eyes on the road until they came to a tiny corner gas station, the only business that appeared to still be operational.
“Your tank’s full. Why are we stopping?”
He pointed to the pay phone. “I have to call Sergeant Rodriquez.”
“Why?”
“Because he needs to know what’s gone down, more or less.”
She skewered him with a look. “More or less?”
“I’m not giving you up, Mackenzie, but there has to be a record of what Bullseye’s done. If things go badly . . .”
Then the two of them would disappear into the maw of the floodwaters and no one would ever be the wiser. He was right. The police could carry on the work against Bullseye even if she couldn’t.
She looked longingly at the shop. “All right. If we’re risking a stop, I’m using the facilities.”
“Mind the cameras. I’ll keep my head on a swivel until you’re done.”
Head ducked low, she hurried into the convenience store and beelined to the restrooms. A quick check of her phone revealed there was no service in the mini-mart either.
The sheer triumph of indoor plumbing infused her body with happiness.
Washing her hands after, she was again struck at the reflection in the mirror.
She looked exhausted, vulnerable, hunted.
Intentionally she wiped her face with a paper towel, cleaned off a stain from her jacket, and even applied a slick of ChapStick from a tube she’d found in the Jeep and stuck in her back pocket.
Better. She nodded at herself. Still on the ragged edge but slightly more civilized.
Since there were undoubtedly cameras near the register as Gideon had noted, she didn’t stop to see if there was anything left on the ravaged store shelves worth buying. It was a herculean effort only made possible by the fact that she’d eaten two of Gideon’s Fluffernutter cracker specials.
She’d almost cleared the door when the mouthwatering aroma of coffee hit her nostrils. A percolator was set up on a card table by the exit with a hand-lettered “Free” sign and a few remaining Styrofoam cups. She’d been in such a hurry on the way in, she hadn’t noticed.
“Help yourself,” the cashier called out. “Trying to keep people warm as they head out of town. You evacuating too?”
“Uh-huh.” Keeping her head turned, she waved a grateful hand and filled two cups to the brim. She wasn’t going to dilute this precious bitter brew with any sugar or creams.
“Best not dillydally.”
“Airstrip’s still open?”
“Yeah, but not for long.”
Long enough, she thought with a surge of hope. She hurried out before the clerk could start up a conversation.
Was he watching her closely as she left? She didn’t dare check. Probably paranoia born of constant danger. There were only two convenience stores in town. Had her brother been a customer here when he came?
To meet with the handlers who set him up in the drug trade?
Outside, Gideon leaned against the Jeep. He, too, wore his hat down low, pretending nonchalance but clearly tracking her every move.
“They have a free table,” she said, handing him the coffee.
He held it under his nose and inhaled. “There are good people in the world, even in this town.”
“I guess the clerk hasn’t gotten the memo we’re wanted individuals.”
“Hopefully, but he could be sending a message right now if he’s got a ham radio or sat phone.”
His response sent a deeper chill into her body as she followed him to the pay phone.
The receiver looked clunky in his grasp, but the ancient technology worked impeccably well.
In a moment, he’d reached an operator who put him through to the officer who’d been driving the jail van when they ended up in the river.
Gideon held the phone so she could hear.
“Where are you?” Rodriquez demanded.
“On the road.” He told the officer as best he could about the situation and the locations of the redhead at the Jeep and Kevin in case the guy was a complete dufus and still hadn’t gotten loose.
“Is Mackenzie Bardine with you?”
Mackenzie sipped the hot coffee. What would Gideon say? She couldn’t be sure as she stared into his somber eyes.
He cleared his throat and moved the mouthpiece closer. “Can’t tell you anything more right now.”
“She needs to turn herself in,” the cop said. “We can work through all this but not if she’s running. Tell me where you are and I’ll try to get someone to you. I can’t leave my post, we’ve got to help with evacuations, but—”
“That’s all I can share for now,” Gideon said.
Mackenzie felt a lump in her throat. This wasn’t Gideon. He didn’t hold back or cover for anyone since he’d lied for her brother and paid a terrible price. Yet here he was, putting himself and his career at risk to help her.
“Listen to me,” Rodriquez said. “You proved yourself back there at the van. I’ll give her as much slack as I can, but you have to come in before you both die.”
The coffee burned her lip. If she was in the cop’s shoes, she’d say the same thing. Five more seconds ticked past as the line of cars continued to move by them.
“Do you know the identity of the man who’s trying to kill us?” Gideon said.
The cop paused. “I have an idea.”
She squeezed the cup, listening. He knew. A name . . . that’s all I need.
“Guy’s trying to kill us,” Gideon said. “We have a right to know who he is.”
The cop lowered his voice. “I can’t talk right now. Do you read me?”
She and Gideon locked eyes. The officer’s hesitation was clear. Bullseye might have people in the police department on his payroll too.
It suddenly seemed as if every passenger in every car and all the people stopped at the gas pumps turned to stare at them.
Their position had just become even more isolated.
“Thanks for your help, officer,” Gideon said. “I’ll be in touch when I can.”
“Don’t—” she heard the cop say as Gideon disconnected.
“You won’t listen, but he’s right, you know,” Gideon said.
She pretended not to hear him, examining the cars as they passed. He wasn’t going to be put off.