“They found me,” he whispers, his face losing color in a matter of seconds. “We have to leave now. Get in the car, quickly!”
Who found you?I start to type, but River shouts, “Not now! Come on!” He almost jumps into the Porsche that is parked along the side of the forest road and starts the engine.
I run to the tent and crawl inside to grab my phone.
“Damn it, Kans!” River shouts. Then he shouts, “Grab the sleeping bag too!”
Sounds like we need to stay somewhere else. Where is the bag? I can’t find it. I quickly stuff everything lying around into my bag: T-shirts, two sweaters, the two newspapers, and finally, our cell phones. I tuck the sleeping bag and whatever no longer fits under my arm, put on my flip-flops, and slip out through the tent flap. Luckily, I put on a pair of jeans earlier.
I glance nervously toward the highway. The headlights of the strange car split the darkness like two blades.
With everything in my hands, I climb over the door into the car. My foot gets stuck, but River is already accelerating. I kneel on the seat, pull my leg into the car, and buckle up.
With the engine roaring, the Porsche flies over the bumpy forest road. I turn in fear. The headlights are rapidly approaching, and the situation reminds me of the day with the Camaro.
Not so fast!I plead inwardly, but River seems to put the pedal to the metal without even turning on the lights. The uneven path shakes me as if I was holding a jackhammer. Instinctively, I grab the handle and stow the bag and the rest ofthe stuff in the footwell with my other hand. River races deeper and deeper into the forest. Low-hanging branches whiz over our heads, one brushing my hair as if it wants to scalp me.
River!I scream silently, but he’s possessed.
I turn again. The lights of the other car appear around a bend.
They’re still following us. Maybe they’re rangers trying to make sure we’re not poachers. But what if they aren’t?
Who is searching for River so hard that they’d follow him to Idaho? And, more importantly, how did they find him? Did they track his cell phone?
Or did they follow me? Is it Chester? My dad?
I glance at River again. He growls something under his breath, but his words are swallowed up by the roar of the engine. This will not end well. Not this time. It’s dark, the dirt road is full of potholes, and the Porsche isn’t a Jeep.
At some point, River rounds a tight curve far too fast for the poor visibility. A fir tree rises up in front of us. River curses, unable to brake in time, and swerves. The car crashes through the bushes. Branches whip the windshield, scratching my face. I am bounced around as the Porsche shoots forward. Before I even understand what is happening, we are hurtling toward an abyss.
“Holy shit!” I hear River yell, and everything happens incredibly fast yet in slow motion. The Porsche rushes down an embankment and tilts up at a sharp angle. A loud “Hh!” escapes me, nothing more, as River hurls another wild curse into the night. Pain throbs in my temples. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that we’re lucky in our misfortune. The slope isn’t as steep as it looked, nor is it as high. The Porsche sails through the air for a panicked breath, my stomach flip-flopping, before we hit the surface of the water with a loud splash.
For a moment, I feel like I’m sitting in a rubber dinghy. The impact wasn’t as catastrophic as I feared; not even the airbags deployed, and the car is floating.
As I sit there in complete shock, River jumps over the closed door.
“Damn, that’s fucking cold.” He doesn’t even mention the accident at all. He’s wading through the water that reaches up to his thighs. “Come on, we have to get out of here now! They’re close behind!” In the frightening seconds of falling, I completely forgot about our pursuers.
Suddenly, he stops. “Are you hurt?”
Confused, I shake my head. No, I’m fine. I simply don’t understand what is happening to me and my life. Who is River, and why do we have to run away? Otherwise, I’m fine, everything’s fine! I climb over the car door, which wouldn’t open anyway because of the water pressure, while River works on the trunk.
As I stand in water almost up to my waist, my teeth chatter because the lake is so cold. I hate it when I make uncontrollable noises, but River doesn’t seem to notice. Besides, I was already drinking before him.
He shoulders the backpack. “Toss me the sleeping bag. Come on, hurry up!”
Stretched out over the door, I fish the stuff out of the footwell and throw him the sleeping bag.
“Luckily, we have the slackline equipment and some clothes. And even something to eat!” He grins, then turns and hurries toward the embankment, his back hunched.
I stow two of River’s long-sleeved shirts in the bag, as well as my bat blouse, before starting the trek to the shore. One last time, I turn to the car, which is slowly rocking like a duck in a bathtub. The S-shaped scratch is half submerged, suggesting the car will probably be swallowed up within a few minutes.
I think of Chester and allow a triumphant smile to slip out, then hurry after River, my flip-flops smacking on the narrow pebble shoreline.
I quickly fish his cell phone out of the bag.Who is following you?I type as I catch up to him.
“Not now!” he hisses, barely audible as he scans the words.
