The next few days pass in a blur. As soon as Alix and I arrived back in Durango with the car, we grabbed Liz and our road trip began, taking us down the long, middle-of-nowhere highway called North Street. And sure enough, we were headed south.
Along the way, we stop at numerous gas stations and hotels. At first I was worried that there might be a problem with money, but each night Alix would disappear for a few hours and then arrive again with something of value. He never explained where he got them, and Liz and I never asked.
Over the days, our disguises fade. Alix's natural light brown color is coming back at the roots slowly, infiltrating the blond. Black streaks are starting to work their way back into Liz's temporary platinum hair. As for me, I look like a disaster. My normal fiery hair is coming back slowly, making the blue seem more dull.
As for clothing, I've given up wearing my clingy black dress and have switched back to my normal clothes. Alix and Liz also haven't been as strict about what they wear and how they act because we try to avoid going out in public anyway.
Every night since we got on the road, we'd stop at a hotel every night and check in, making sure to ask every single person at the front counter if they'd seen a black car pass down the road. We got vague answers from every single one of the staff, and though I know I shouldn't give up, I can feel my hope leaving me.
"Hey. Are you okay?" Liz's voice causes me to pull myself back to reality, lifting my head from my hands. I'm lounging on the queen sized bed in the hotel we're staying in tonight. We've reached Albuquerque, New Mexico, and if we continue going at this pace, we're going to end up in Mexico, and eventually the Pacific Ocean.
"Yes," I lie. She sees right through it.
"I know what it feels like to miss someone." She says, crossing her arms across her chest and staring at the ground. "It isn't fun. I'm not going to tell you that I'm sorry, because it's not something that just you as a person goes through. Everyone goes through it. That you have to deal with it in this way makes me sympathetic."
I look at her. "I know. I guess that I just wish my life never changed."
"Everyone changes. It's a part of life." Liz says. "You just managed to get hit with it in the head harder than everyone else." I cough out a laugh. "It's not a bad thing that you've taken some hits. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, yeah?"
I nod after a time. "Yeah."
"What are we talking about ladies?" Alix's voice joins the conversation, and I can't help perk up at his constant upbeat attitude. We haven't been butting heads nearly as often these past few days, and a fool can see that being partners has changed something in both of us.
"Mangoes." I lie, rolling my eyes.
"Oohh, mangoes are good. I bet I could steal some for y'all." He says, puffing his chest out slightly in that 'I'm the boss' type manner.
"No, thanks. We were talking about how the two of us actually don't like mangoes." Liz joins in.
Alix frowns. "You don't like mangoes? Now that's just depressing."
"Not as depressing as the fact that you like mangoes." I say. I'm pretty sure he knows we weren't talking about mangoes before he came in, but obviously we don't have to tell him everything. Everyone deserves to have secrets.
Liz and Alix continue to fight about the strange fruit while I'm drawn to the window. None of our hotel rooms along the road trip have been quite as nice as the one we got first, but they've been good enough to suit our needs, including the fabulous thing called a washer and a dryer.
Pushing aside the curtain, I peer around it. What I see petrifies me. I find that I have to force air into my mouth and into my lungs.
Why are there so many police? At a hotel? I blink a few times, almost one hundred percent positive that what I'm seeing isn't real. There are not hundreds of police officers swarming around the front entrance like flies around a dead body.
"Oh, my God. Jess, get away from the window." So my eyes aren't deceiving me. The police have finally found us. Alix's voice comes from near my shoulder, which means that he must have walked over here to see what made me stop in my tracks. When I don't do anything at his command, a hand grabs my arm. His. Only this time it's cold as if he'd just been holding an icy drink. I just keep staring.
"Jess, come on. There's no doubt they're here for us. We have to hide."
I turn my head slightly as if in a daze. My movements feel stiff, as if someone else is controlling my limbs. His eyes are searching mine desperately, looking for reason or maybe fear. But still I don't answer. I feel absolutely nothing. No warmth in my heart, no fluttering sensation at the contact between his hand and my arm, no fear of what could possibly happen next.
The police below scan the building with sharp eyes and vacant expressions.
"What's going on?" Liz calls, striding over. I can see a flash of blonde out of the periphery of my vision as Liz walks toward Alix and I. When she catches sight of the police below, her cloudy eyes widen and Alix's grip on my arm tightens.
"Jess, what are you doing? Do you want to get caught?" Her voice is stiff and clipped, fear obvious. I don't respond.
A lone officer with brown hair cut close to his scalp, settles his eyes on me in the windowsill. His eyes narrow and he shouts something to the other officers.
"We have to get out of here. I'll drag her if I have to." Alix says, almost to himself before backing farther into the room again, letting go of my arm. I can imagine my skin is white under the pressure of his touch, outlining the shape of his hand on my skin.
I can see enough to tell that his eyes are wide and frightened. Frightened. I would never have thought of Alix as easily frightened.
Just then, a loud knock rings through the room. "Open up!" The unmistakable sounds of a police officer yells. "You're under arrest. Any attempt to exit this room and we have orders to shoot you on sight!"
The officer is right. Any attempt to jump out of the windowsill would be suicide, and even if we somehow made it down there, there are hundreds of police who would catch us in less than a second.
Suddenly, my heart jolts to life in my chest, snapping me back into reality like a rubber band. Liz's eyes are trained on the door, her hand extending backwards, only to grab at empty air. It's like she's used to having a weapon.
Alix's eyes, however, are focused on me, confusion darkening the normal light blue color away and replacing it with a dark indigo. My breathing is loud suddenly. I'm gasping. Blood pounds in my ears, and I'm remembering. Everything is coming back to me. The police. How I refused to move. Why did I refuse to move?
"I—" I start, but I'm cut off. The door bangs open, revealing four police officers in the hallway, guns up and aimed right at us. The expression on all of the officer's faces is the same. Blank stares, as if they don't know what they're doing. I wonder if that's what I just looked like a minute before. All the same, none of us dare move save for the slow motion of the three of us lifting our hands above our heads.
We've been caught. There's no continuing now. Someone must have seen us and recognized us, or someone must have seen Alix on one of his errands. Either way, it's over.
My head pounds louder as police begin to infiltrate the room. I suddenly feel the metal barrel of a gun pushing uncomfortably against my skull. Then we're being marched down the halls, resulting in people exiting their hotel rooms to see what is going on. Finally, we're walking out of the hotel and into the back of a police vehicle. None of us give a fight. Because there is nothing to fight for, and nothing in our favor.
The door slams on the three of us. We're sitting in the large trunk of the vehicle; the only view the back window showing us the outside world. The car vrooms to life, and I jump at the vibration, causing Alix—who's pressed against my right side—to tense instinctively. It's silent for a time before I have the urge to speak. Liz is staring intently out the window at the fading road, and Alix is staring at his hands. Now's as good a time as any.
"I—I don't know what to say." I whisper so that the driver won't be able to hear me.
"There's nothing to say." Alix's words catch me off guard, and the conversation is over just like that. Liz's position hasn't changed, but her shoulders relax a little at my words. That will have to be comfort enough for now.
The hours pass slowly, and eventually it starts to rain. Liz has fallen asleep on my left, but Alix's gaze has been fixed on the fading road for the last three hours. A light drizzle turns to a pouring rain, and rain drops drip down the window like hesitant tears. Despite the circumstances, I can't bring myself to even think of crying.
My eyelids slowly drip, and I find that I'm leaning on Alix's shoulder, staring at the droplets as they seem to chase each other across the glass window. Fingers curl around mine, and recognizing the strong, slender fingers as Alix's, I return the gesture, for a moment not caring who he is or what he's done. My hand in his is a sense of hope—a sense of possibility.
Right now, hope is the only thing keeping us alive.