Page 8 of Rough Choice

“You running from something?” he asked, turning to look at her more fully. “Or someone?”

“No, no. I won’t bring any trouble on you. I just have to get out of here.”

“Alright then, miss, hop in.” Eliana didn’t wait for a second invitation before she began rounding the trailer. She saw Grier exiting the store with bags in his hands, and she moved quicker. It was too late, though, as he spotted her.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled and sprinted across the parking lot toward her. Eliana was climbing into the truck when he caught her. “Get out of there!”

“No! I’m not going to sit in a vehicle with you a moment longer.”

“So you’re going to sit in a truck with him?” Grier asked, gesturing to the very confused looking man. She remained silent but adverted her eyes. “What about Kye? Hmm?”

“What about him? He hasn’t sent any word. He’s probably dead!”

“Yeah, he probably is!” Grier yelled in an uncharacteristic level of emotion. She’d not suspected he was capable of this level of emotion based on his usual monotone behavior toward her. “So you’re going to tell me he died in vain? He sent himself to his grave, buying us time to escape, so you can drive off with this fucking Santa-Claus-looking motherfucker?”

“That’s it, get out!” the trucker yelled. When Eliana didn’t move fast enough, he reached for the gun under his seat. She practically flung herself out of the cab. She shoved past Grier and began walking away from him in no particular direction.

“Get back here,” Grier said, grabbing her arm. She yanked it away from him then reared back and slapped him hard across the face. The crack was sickening, but Grier didn’t so much as flinch.

“I hate you!” she screamed. Still, Grier didn’t make the slightest movement. She slapped his chest, and when he remained silent still, she began hitting him repeatedly. “I hate you and I hate him! I hate Kye. I hate him!” Her body fell weak with sobs, and when she lost her strength to hit Grier anymore, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her against his warm chest. “He left me again. He sent me away. I hate him. I hate him!” She wept as her arms wove around his torso.

“I know,” Grier murmured, resting his chin on her head. “I hate him too.”

Just before dawn the next morning, Grier pulled the SUV onto another highway exit. This was no truck stop; however, it was a small town. Resembling most small towns, Eliana ticked off the usual staples: a steepled church, a couple of motels, a bar, a consignment shop, and a café. It was like every small-town architect used the same blueprints. She could almost guess what would be around every corner based on the town she’d grown up in. Even the people looked typical.

Early morning pedestrians were flocking to the streets. It must have been Sunday due to the well-dressed individuals who were walking toward the church. Little girls in cute dresses stood safely between modestly dressed women and men in button-down shirts. Eliana wracked her brain. She felt so disoriented, had it not been for the guide of the churchgoers, she wouldn’t have been able to tell what day of the week it was had her life depended on it. All of her days rolled together like one long blur. Come to think of it, other than the snacks from the gas station, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

“What are we doing here?” she asked when Grier drove through town and pulled onto a dirt road. Since her meltdown at the truck stop, their relationship had hardly become more sociable, but there seemed to be a quiet understanding that passed between them. Grier was Kye’s best friend. Eliana was Kye’s true love. Their affection for the man united them, and at the present, their mutual hatred and anger at him bonded them.

Eliana felt ashamed of herself for being so selfish. Since their departure, she’d only been thinking of her own suffering and misery without Kye. Not knowing if he was dead, alive, or something in between. She hadn’t stopped to think that Grier was grieving too. Not knowing anything about the man, she hadn’t realized he’d been expressing his pain through silence and determination. He’d torn through a third of the country in just under two days, trying to keep them safe, making sure there was no one tailing them. No one could follow them. In days of modern speed cameras and surveillance, especially anywhere within the proximity of state borders, he had to make sure he didn’t trip any sensors. If he did he was seen driving in and out repeatedly to throw anyone off the trail.

It was meticulous work, and the more she observed his driving and spent less time brooding she could appreciate his mastery. Especially running on Snickers bars and energy drinks for the last thirty-six hours. Grier was a warrior from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Even now as she stared at his profile, she felt a new appreciation for him. Though he still scared her, unnerved her, and Lord knows annoyed the hell out of her with his silence, he’d rescued her. They were free from Max’s reach. At least for the time being.

“It’s an old storehouse,” Grier answered when they reached the end of the dirt road. An abandoned house sat at the end of the long driveway. Based on the peeling shingles, broken windows, and hinged doors the house hadn’t been used in years. Before she had the chance to ask how on earth this rundown foreclosure could serve any purpose, Grier turned sharply and drove to the back of the house and across a short field toward a barn.

The red paint was now tinged orange from age, but it looked otherwise unfazed with time. There was only a single round window toward the top of the structure, and there was a chain bolt on the door. Grier pulled the SUV to a stop next to the barn and killed the engine.

“What did you store here?” she asked and followed him as he exited the SUV. “Ghosts?” she asked sarcastically, and when she stepped on the remnants of a broken fence, she kicked a plank that housed several rusty nails. “Tetanus?”

“And scurvy,” Grier chided. He used a set of deadbolt cutters that had been hidden in the bushes to break the lock on the door. The chain rattled to the ground, and he tossed the cutters aside before he flung the doors to the barn wide open. The only light in the barn was a single bare bulb that Grier turned on via the small switch chain that hung beside it. Not that it did much good. However, the open barn doors were more than adequate to illuminate the fortress inside.

Eliana gaped as she saw the inside of the building. It was meticulously organized save for the wooden planked floors underfoot. The walls to her right were lined with gun racks that held everything from handguns to assault weapons and what she was pretty sure was a bazooka. All hung perfectly on pegs; she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were alphabetized. The tool chests on the far wall held containers of ammunition and medical supplies.

Grier moved about the room as though he’d been here several times before. He was soon out of her sight as the center of the room was occupied by a large structure she assumed was a concealed vehicle under a gray tarp based on the shape of it. Having no desire to see the guns any more closely, she moved instead to the left side where the wall to her left was lined with a long map of the US.

It looked as though someone had charted several routes and circled a few key locations, Pine Hill being one of them. What she saw seemed more of a battle strategy than a road trip map. On the right side was a list of locations— cities, the names of roads, or possibly even hotels or buildings. Between the colored pegs were strings of matching colors that possibly guided the reader. Her eyes moved over it quickly, her mind eager to have any bit of information to devour. Two days with nothing to do but stare out the window and a veritable mannequin to talk to, she was starved for stimulation.

“So…” she said, trailing off as she surveyed the map that was lined with colored pins. Her eyes darted back and forth as though reading it like a textbook. “We’re in Kentucky.”

“What makes you think that?” Grier asked as he put an empty duffle bag on the table and began filling it with items he’d gathered from around the room.

“This pin is red,” she said, pointing to the one pinned on the state of Kentucky. “The ones in the north are green and the ones in the south are yellow.”

“So.”

“So, this is the only red one. As in… ’you are standing here’ kind of red,” she stated as she explained her line of reasoning. “We’re in Kentucky.”

“If you say so,” Grier muttered as he continued in his task without looking at her.