“It’s too bad you had to get her involved,” they added.
I wanted to break down and cry, but I knew now was the worst time. This was reminding me of a few times when I had been with my ex-boyfriend. I knew he’d done some things that were less than legal, and sometimes he would bring me along. I’d seen him beat people until they could barely breathe, and then his boys would just take the loser away and I wouldn’t see him again.
The odd part was, that wasn’t the reason I stopped seeing him.
“Get in,” the cops said, gesturing toward the hole. Jimmy acknowledged his fate and stepped into the hole. I, on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood to die tonight.
One of them waved his pistol at me, trying to usher me into the hole.
“Just get in, Celia. They’re probably just trying to scare us, right?”
Bang. Jimmy was dead. He slumped over in the hole, lifeless. I panicked and kicked the officer near me. He must not have had the best footing, because he toppled over on top of Jimmy. It was my break, and I took it.
I sprinted through the forest toward the road we had just left. I could hear the officers starting to chase me from behind, but they were a ways off.
I considered my options. I remembered they had left their keys in the ignition before we left. Cops always did stupid things like that. So, I just kept running.
Their footsteps grew louder, and I could hear the brush cracking under their weight. I could barely see a thing, but in the heavy moonlight I was able to make out the silhouette of their car. The lights were still on inside.
Then an arm reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I yelped in surprise.
“Stop right there, girlie,” he said.
I grabbed the thing nearest to me, a stick, and stabbed it into his hand as hard as I could. He screamed in anger, and I heard him try to draw his gun with his other hand, but it clanked to the ground.
I sprinted the last distance, completely out of breath, running entirely on adrenaline, until I was nestled into the driver’s seat. I heard a smash on the passenger side door; the officer I had stabbed was frantically trying to get in the car. I reached over and locked the door before he could open it.
I cranked the key and the car started up.
“Get out of the car, you bitch! I will find you, and I’ll do worse than shoot you,” he shouted.
I floored the pedal and the wheels burned out as I shot off into the darkness. I breathed my first sight of relief as I drove down the road. Finally, I gave in to all the emotions I had denied myself until now. Jimmy was dead, murdered by two officers. I couldn’t go to the police; they wouldn’t believe me. I couldn’t call any of my friends, the few that I had; they would just be put in harm’s way.
There was only one place I could think to go, the only place I had ever really felt safe in my entire life. I had to go back home; I had to find Rex and get him to keep me alive.
2.
I ditched the cop car when it finally ran out of gas. It was a liability anyway, as I’d heard that their cars were easy to track, so it was for the best that I left it.
I had driven more than 200 miles last night, and I was exhausted. It didn’t help that blood was spilled all over my shirt. Some of it was Jimmy’s and some of it was probably the officer’s I had stabbed.
I hitchhiked my way into a small town that didn’t seem to have much more than a gas station and a diner. That was fine, though. People who live in parts like this were tougher than most. I let my guard down a little bit.
Rex and his boys liked to keep to the open road, and I hoped they’d be somewhere nearby. At least I was 200 miles closer to the place I’d last seen him.
I pulled out my phone and dialed his number only to get his voice mail.
“Don’t bother,” it said.
I was about to hang up, but I couldn’t help myself. I left a message.
“Rex, it’s me, Celia. I’m hunkered down in a diner called Jack’s Shake Shack, and I was hoping to see you again. I’m in a tight spot,” I said. Then I remembered the money in my bag, “I can pay you!”
The message clicked off, and I returned the phone to the receiver. I felt completely hopeless. I sat down at the café bar and rested my head in my hand. I laid my phone on the table in front of me and stared at it, hoping it would ring.
“Can I get you some pie?”
I looked up at a waitress holding a pot of coffee and leaning on the bar.
“How about a cup of that coffee to go with it?” I said.
She smiled and poured me a cup.
“Waitin’ on somebody?” she asked.
“Something like that,” I replied.
She came back with a slice of pie. I pulled a few dollars from the envelope of cash, and as I did so, she held up her hand.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. It’s on the house,” she said.