In the backseat with Hank’s head in her lap, even with her wrists tied together, she had applied constant pressure to his wound. In the dark she couldn’t tell if the bleeding had slowed. She would need to remove the jury-rigged dressing to make a visual inspection, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up. The rattle in his chest hadn’t worsened, so she hoped he had stabilized for now. At least he was alive.
“We’ve got to ditch this car,” Tony suddenly blurted out. “Start looking for something.”
Rudy tuned his eyes to the windshield and searched both sides of highway for a car to steal. He knew this would only get him deeper in trouble if they ever got caught, but he didn’t know what else to do. Besides, he was in so deep now one more crime didn’t matter. For his sake and for Natalie’s he had to try to build trust with Tony. That, he thought, would be their salvation. Get Tony to relax and then spring at the next opportunity. Up ahead, he saw the sign for an upcoming intersection. He swallowed hard and worked up his take-charge nerve.
“Let’s turn down here,” he said and stretched his voice to assert a confident tone. “I’ll bet there’s something there, more off the beaten path.”
They made the turn and drove for a couple of miles. Just ahead Rudy made out a dim light on the peak of an old brown barn. Beneath it, a van sat alone.
“Look … there.” He pointed his finger toward the barn.
Tony tore his fatigued eyes away from the country road and looked to where Rudy indicated. As they approached, he slowed down and looked for signs of life. He found none. A Ford Econoline with broad, dark and light blue bands painted around the entire body, looked to be about twenty years old. It sat in the open with the driver’s side exposed to the road. Tony steered the Impala in behind it on the passenger side and stopped parallel to it about five feet away.
“Get Hank ready to be moved,” he said, and jumped out of the sedan.
He started with the side cargo door, and tugged each door handle until he found one unlocked. The rear door opened. He glanced inside. By the light coming from the security lamp on the barn he saw that it was made for cargo with no seats in the back. The bed was full of tracked in dirt, mud, manure, hay and god knows what else, but he didn’t care, so long as the engine fired off.
Tony stepped on the rear bumper, pulled himself inside and climbed through the cargo area. He lifted the lock on the side door and then stepped between the two front two seats. When he reached the driver’s seat, he felt under the dashboard and found the two ignition wires. He yanked them free with a quick jerk and touched the bare ends of the wires together. When the engine roared to life, the tautness in his chest relaxed.
He rotated in the seat, and stepped to the double side doors. Once on the ground, he opened the back door of the Impala next to Natalie.
“Get into the van,” he shouted at her. He put his hand on the butt of the gun to inculcate again he was in charge and that this wasn’t a request.
She held up her hands which were tied to her feet. The “you’ve got to be kidding” look pissed him off.
“Don’t give me your shit, move your ass over there, now.”
Natalie clenched her jaw to steel herself against Tony’s cruelty, maneuvered herself out from under Hank’s head and swung her feet out to the ground. As she reached for the arm rest on the door for support, Tony grabbed her left arm and pulled her to her feet. He shoved her hard in the direction of the van. Without being able to move her feet and with nothing to hold onto, she lost her balance and fell to the dirt on her knees.
“Ah,” she groaned as the grit ground into them and the warmth of blood wept from the fresh wounds.
“Get the hell out of my way, bitch,” he screamed and toppled her over with his foot.
She fell hard onto her left side, still tender from being kicked by Tony just after she shot Hank. Her hip and elbow took the brunt of the impact but the pain radiated through her whole body. She wanted to lie there to recuperate for a moment but she could see that Tony had already reached into the back seat of the sedan for Hank. If she stayed there, it wouldn’t be long before he would kick at her again.
She rolled to get out of his way and realized if she rolled another time, she would be close enough to the van to get inside. The alternative, to slide the distance on her hands and knees, and with her knees raw, that wasn’t an attractive option. When she was close enough to reach the opening, she supported herself with her hands on the step and pulled herself to her feet. She hopped closer until she could turn her body and sat on the step. She shimmied backwards into the cargo area.
Tony turned back to Ma’s car and looked into the open rear passenger compartment. Hank was unconscious, wrapped like a burnt orange mummy in the bedspread stolen from the motel. Rudy had opened the other door of the Impala, ready to move Hank. Tony grabbed his friend’s shoulders and with Rudy’s help slid him across the Chevy’s back seat. Once Rudy stepped out the car and took Hank’s feet, they carried him to the side cargo door of the Ford van. Tony backed his way up the single step and laid Hank on the floor with his head toward the front of the vehicle near Natalie. Rudy followed and placed Hank’s feet on the steel floor.
As Tony stepped over Hank to get into the driver’s seat, Rudy stepped back through the rear opening and turned to the sedan to gather all the supplies and personal belongings. By the time he dropped the last thing—Natalie’s purse—on the cargo floor, Tony, glared back to him from the driver’s seat.
“You wanted to drive,” Tony shouted over the whine of the engine, “take the Chevy and follow me, and don’t try anything. Remember, she’s with me.” Then he faced Natalie and continued, “Keep pressure on that wound, damn it.”
As Tony slammed the van into drive and gunned the engine, Natalie adjusted herself behind him on the dirty, cold, corrugated floor. She pulled Hank toward her and placed his head on her thighs. Even through her jacket she felt the cold steel of the van when she leaned back against the side.
After her second attempt to escape had failed, she had begun to lose hope she would survive this nightmare. Two police officers had been within a stone’s throw, possibly searching for her, and yet she failed to flag them down. As she set her mind to find other chances of escape, she remembered her mission. She reached to Hank’s chest with her bound hands and applied pressure to his injury. The wound felt wetter than it had been. In the motel room she had seen Hank’s face turn pale. Through the back window, the headlights of the sedan reflected off the white roof and she now saw it had faded to a sallow gray. He couldn’t last much longer without medical help and if he died, her immediate future also was terminal.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
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