Very little stood out to me as I trudged along for the first few hours, and I started to feel a growing hunger and thirst attacking my body along with the aching and cramping I went through. At least my body was no longer trying still to expel the fluid I had retained. Eventually, though, my eyes came upon something that made my heart jolt with renewed hope. It was the unmistakable sight of car lights passing by on a moonlit highway.
I stumbled towards it quickly, ignoring once more the throbbing my body did in protest. My body hurt in so many places. Some, I didn’t even want to think about. Cuts and bruises were the least of my problem. I could barely see out of one eye. My nose felt misshapen, making it hard for me to breathe. My left wrist had a stabbing pain, and it hurt when I moved my fingers. I knew there was probably much more along with malnutrition, and God knows whatever they injected me with. I was a complete mess, and I was done with this shit. I’d rather die than get captured again.
The closer I got to the road, the freer I felt.
I was almost there.
I could taste my freedom. Just a few more steps and my feet would touch the asphalt, and everything would be over.
Making that step. I touched the rough treaded surface on the ground, and I cried.
I was free.
With renewed energy, I stepped onto the road just as a semi-truck came around the bend. It was funny, I thought, now that I could reach out and touch my freedom, all my energy waned, evaporating into nothing. Crying out as I raised my hand, I pushed myself through the pain and frantically flagged the driver down. I heard the breaks before seeing the smoke emitted from his tires as the big semi tried to stop. I sighed as relief washed over me. When the large semi stopped moving, the driver-side door flew open as the driver jumped from his rig and ran over to me.
Crouching down, he asked, “Miss, are you okay?”
I knew he was shocked at her appearance, but I could do nothing to ease his discomfort. I mean, it wasn’t every day you’re just truckin’ along the highway, and a broken, battered, and naked woman comes crawling out of the tree line, begging for help. Nope, that stuff was reserved for movies. Regardless, I needed help badly.
“I need a ride. I need to get to the Golden Skulls in California. Can you take me?”
I had done my homework. Right after the nightmare I was living in began, I managed to snag an iPad from one of my captors. Thankfully, he had wi-fi, and I looked up the only name I knew who could save me. Of course, I was shocked to learn the national chapter was in upstate California in wine country, and the National President was someone called Reaper. I wondered if that was Max’s dad. I prayed that Uncle Peter was still there. He would remember me. I hoped Max would too. I memorized the address and phone number and recited it every day, knowing that I would escape one day. Now all I needed was to get the driver to take me to them.
The driver nodded, taking his shirt off, and handed it to me. “Yes, I’m headed to California.”
I cried and thanked the man profusely. I tried not to cringe, scream, or cry out when the driver helped me to her feet and into his cab. Laying me on the small bed he had in his cabin, I stayed quiet as he grabbed a couple of blankets and covered me up.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”
“No. Please take me to California.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t know how long I slept in the back of the semi. The driver was kind, allowing me to sleep in his bunk. Not once did he say a word. He even stopped at a truck stop in Arizona, bought me some clothes and food. I was grateful for his help, but I refused to rest until I reached the Golden Skulls. I didn’t know why I only thought of them, but remembering the story Max told me before, I knew the only person who could save me was Max.
I needed to get to Max.
From the moment my parents showed up and took me back home to Nebraska, my life was never the same, and only my thoughts of Max and his family were able to keep my nightmares at bay. But even those nightmares came to reality when I turned sixteen. Since then, my life had been a living hell. All because I trusted and believed in someone I shouldn’t have.
The semi rolled to a stop as the driver turned to me, “Remi. We’re here. Are you sure about this?”
Sitting up, I spotted a large building, almost like a barn but more prominent, with a sign clearly stating ‘The Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club’ over the large double doors.
“Are you sure you want me to leave you here? These clubs can get rough.”
“I need them to be rough. Only they can help me.”
The driver, whose name I learned was Tom, helped me from the rig. She I shook his hand and watched as he drove away. Turning to the building. It was huge. Looking up, I spotted thousands of stars as a light breeze blew in from the ocean. The area was stunning. I only prayed that Max was here, and he remembered me. If not, I didn’t know what I was going to do.
Every inch of my body still hurt. The bruising had only gotten worse
