Song: Falling Apart by Michael Shulte
***
What the hell just happened?! The phrase repeats itself in my mind over and over again as I speed down the road, most definitely over the speed limit. I turn on the radio for background noise, and the breaking story on every local station is about the stabbing by two kids at a high school.
Brooklyn sits silently beside me, staring out the windshield. Her mouth hangs open ever so slightly, and her eyes are wide and unblinking.
I flex my fingers on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. "You didn't do anything horribly wrong, you know," I mutter.
Brooklyn shoots me an upset glare, both of her eyebrows pointed upward. "I killed a boy. A kid. Someone who was probably my age with a whole life ahead of him," she chokes, her voice shaking.
"He would have killed you if you hadn't," I reassure her. "It's not like you killed him in cold blood." Brooklyn says nothing, and I sigh. "Look, you're gonna feel guilty, and that's okay - but think about it this way: Wesley has murdered too many innocent people," I add.
"He was just doing his job to protect his family," she whines, and I begin to feel frustrated.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel. "Why do you keep trying to defend that son of a bitch?" I say. "He's done nothing good, nothing. He could have been given a kill list with no consequences if he didn't do as told, and he'd still kill people. Just for fun."
Brooklyn rests her head in her hand. "I don't know!" she shouts. "I just feel guilty. And now I guess I am guilty of a crime."
"Yeah, so am I," I snort. "I threw you the knife, after all."
Taking the hint, Brooklyn passes me the knife. I stuff it in my pocket. "Well, now the government has the perfect reason to convict me," Brooklyn says, shaking her head. "And you too."
I shrug. "They were gonna get me in trouble anyway, probably. For not doing as told," I say, and we both fall into silence, listening to the radio.
A reporter on the radio station describes both of us, giving our names. He even places Brooklyn as the crazy gang leader, and names me as her accomplice.
Brooklyn audibly sighs. "So what do we do now?"
"We obviously can't show our faces anywhere. People will be looking for us everywhere," I say. "And no disguise is going to help us."
"So what? We just hide?"
I nod feebly. "That's our only option," I mumble. "And the car's gonna run out of gas eventually."
"It's not solar?" Brooklyn asks, astounded.
"Nope," I say, popping the p. "It was the cheapest car on the lot too."
Brooklyn rolls her eyes. "Figures," she huffs. "Where are we supposed to go, then?" she inquires.
I stare at the long, empty road ahead. "No idea. You got any suggestions?"
"What about a motel? Or somewhere with someone you know?" Brooklyn suggests.
"The motel's out, because we can't be seen in public," I repeat. "And I don't have anyone who I know and trust in this state or anywhere near here," I say, shaking my head.
"Why can't we just go back to your house?" Brooklyn asks, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"Because that's the first place they'd expect us to go," I say. "There's probably dozens of cop cars swarming around my house as we speak," I sigh.
I turn down a small road heading into a densely wooded area. "Are we just gonna have to live like hermits in the woods, then?" Brooklyn scoffs.
I shrug. "Maybe, unless you can come up with something better," I retort. My car makes a strange sputtering sound, and I shoot a glance at my fuel gauge. "And we're almost out of gas, so we can't get much farther anyway."
"Great, just great," Brooklyn grumbles. "And don't you think they'll check the woods eventually? I mean, that's probably the most stereotypical place we could go."
"They're gonna check everywhere, eventually," I say. "And besides, what other option do we really have?" The red needle on my fuel gauge points dangerously close to the E. I stare at it for a brief moment when suddenly, a crazy idea hits me.
Without warning, I swerve off of the road and into the woods. I jerk the steering wheel right and left to avoid trees, debris, and tight spaces. The car bounces up and down over numerous rocks and stumps, and I cringe at the thought of what this is probably doing to my shocks.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Brooklyn shouts over the loud thumping noises.
"Improvising," I shout back, my voice undulating in time with the car.
After twenty minutes of deep forest spelunking, my car finally sputters to a stop. Everywhere I look it's just trees, trees, and more trees. I can barely see the night sky through the canopy of green above me. I figure we're pretty secluded at this point, and I step out of the car.
I stretch my hands up, placing them behind my head as my back cracks loudly. Brooklyn steps out of the car as well, slamming her door shut angrily.
"Great," she says, slapping her hands down to her sides. "We're stranded out in the middle of the woods with no food and no water. Nice going."
"Ah ah," I say, wagging a finger at her. "Everyone in my family loaded their cars with survival packs - food, water, first aid, and thermal blankets. And now, we even have a car to sleep in; shelter, if you will." I fold my arms and stick my chin upward in pride. Only thing you forgot was your backpack, I tell myself, thinking about how I left it in the dressing room.
Brooklyn rolls her eyes. "I'm forced to live in a stinky car for the rest of my life. Wonderful," she snorts.
"It could be a prison cell," I shoot back. "And you can't beat the great forest view," I tease, gesturing all around me as I turn in a circle.
Brooklyn mumbles something inaudible and places her face in her right hand.
I walk around the hood of the car and over to her. "Look, I'm sorry. I know it's been a long day; a long few weeks even, for you. Let's just try and get some rest, okay?"
"I'm probably not going to," she huffs.
"Me either, but we may as well try," I say, placing my hand gently on her shoulder. "But one of us should probably stay awake while the other one sleeps, you know: for safety reasons."
"Right," she says with a feeble nod. "I'll let you take first watch," she says, patting my shoulder with a smirk and climbing into the car.
Slightly baffled, I chuckle to myself as I walk back towards the driver's side, sliding myself in.
Life is about to get either really interesting, or really boring, I think to myself.
***
