The Drowning Game

He drove east on US 56, which led us into Council Grove, a little town that was dark except for a Phillips 66 gas station. Dekker pulled up to a pump, grabbed a hat out of the backseat and put it on, yanking it down over his eyes.

“It’s only midnight?” he said. “Feels later. Do you think it’s safe to use my cell to call my grandma?”

“Better not,” I said. “They might be able to track us. You might want to turn it off altogether.”

He pulled it out of his shirt pocket and powered it down. “I’ll pump the gas. Do you need to use the restroom? Either way, put your hood up and keep your head down.”

I yanked up the hood on my sweatshirt and got out of the truck. I was stiff from sitting. There was no one else at the gas station, and the door to the restroom was outside, so I wouldn’t have to go inside the cashier station. When I came back out of the bathroom, Dekker was standing at the pay phone, smoking and talking. I didn’t get too close because I wanted to give him privacy.

When he hung up, he said, “I’ll be right out. Get in the truck.”

I got in, closed the door, and leaned my head against the window. I was so tired, but now at least we had a place to go. A stray dog trotted by the truck, and I wondered if Sarx and Tesla were all right. I’d slit open a giant bag of dog food and left it for them, and there was a pond out back of our property, so I thought they’d be okay.

But nothing else was going according to plan. Mr. Dooley had come back from lunch too early. I should have been out of the office before he’d even finished his coffee over at the restaurant. Dekker would have driven me to Salina without me having to threaten him, without being blockaded on the highway by Mr. Dooley and Randy, and they wouldn’t have even known I’d left Saw Pole. I would be waiting at the bus depot without looking over my shoulder. I’d have never met that awful Ashley, and the cops wouldn’t be after us. I’d have gotten on that Greyhound bus in the morning and never seen Dekker again.

There was one aspect of how things actually happened that I did like. I enjoyed being with a person who talked to me, even though he was angry. I didn’t blame Dekker. His anger and the way he expressed it stood in stark contrast to how my dad had gotten mad. While Dekker yelled and lashed out, Dad had grown dangerously silent and sometimes wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me for days. I preferred Dekker’s way, as it turned out.

Still, I regretted leaving the bathroom in the bus depot and coming with Dekker, because now I didn’t have any idea how I was going to get to Detroit.

I was startled by a tap on the window. I turned and saw a large man standing there. Adrenaline flooded my system. The man didn’t smile, but motioned for me to roll the window down. I reached into my hoodie and put my hand on Baby Glock. I shook my head at him. He made the motion again.

Where was Dekker?

The man tapped again.

I rolled the window down about an inch.

“Hey, gal, your seat belt’s caught in the door.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked away. I saw my seat belt was indeed trapped in the door. Dekker was on his way out of the store, his hat tipped low over his eyes, walking casually toward the truck. I took my hand off my gun, opened my door and yanked the seat belt inside. Then I slid down in the seat, my heart flopping around in my chest at the thought of being recognized, of being caught and arrested—-and then sent back to Randy.

Dekker got in.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Uncle Curt says we should drive over to Council Grove Lake and the Neosho Park recreation area off Lake Road. There’s a loop there, and he says we need to leave the truck. He’ll come get us.”

“Lake?” I said. “Why a lake?” Even the thought of being so close to a large body of water spooked me, as if the water would sense me there and erupt out of its banks and drown me, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Nobody will be out there this time of year,” he said, “so there’s no chance of us being spotted.”

Pulling off Lake Road and toward the lake itself, I could see the spiky skeletons of tall poplars and expansive oaks ringing the lake. The water sparkled, in constant dark motion, making my heart race in a way that running from the cops never would.

The roads and parking lots were deserted. We didn’t see a single vehicle. He drove off road and pulled the truck behind the tree line so we couldn’t be seen from the parking lot. The clock on the dashboard said 12:44.

Dekker shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it up. Then he said, “I’ll do this outside if it bugs you.”

“It does.”

He made an irritated noise and got out of the truck. I watched the lit end of his cigarette glow as it arced through the air to and from his mouth, but the dark water kept drawing my eyes. Dekker finally tossed his cigarette away and got back in the cab.

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