“Fine,” Jack said. “But that doesn’t mean they’re going to keep us prisoners.”
“We
car?”
Good question, Jack thought. He felt his mouth going dry. Suddenly being grounded didn’t seem so bad.
“Maybe—” He had to clear his throat. “Maybe they don’t want us going home and talking about it and bringing a bunch of people back before they’re
through.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said. “I’m just worried they might not want anyone
Eddie started working his handle again. “It’s getting stuffy in here.” He sounded panicky.
Weezy leaned toward Jack and lowered her voice. “He doesn’t like enclosed places. It’s cal ed—”
“Claustrophobia—I know. I may not know ‘gravitas,’ but I know that.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
They fel into silence; the only sound was Eddie’s continuous rattling of his door handle. Jack’s mind raced. They had to get out of this car. But how?
Possibilities popped into his head but he tossed them out one after another as unworkable. And then …
He grabbed Weezy’s arm as a plan leaped ful -blown into his head.
“Wait! Eddie, can you fake getting sick—I mean, puke-type sick?”
“If I’m cooped up in here much longer I won’t
“Great. Look sick.”
Jack began rapping on his window. The trooper stood a few feet away with his back to them, arms folded across his chest, watching the excavation. He
didn’t turn. He might have been ignoring them, but most likely couldn’t hear them over the racket.
Jack began pounding on the glass with his fists.
Weezy said, “Jack, you’re going to break it.”
“I wish.”
No way he could break auto glass with his bare hands—which were starting to hurt from the impacts.
Final y the trooper turned. His expression turned from bored to annoyed when he saw Jack pounding. After a few seconds of hesitation he walked over
and yanked open the door—not al the way, just a foot or so.
“What the hel do you think you’re doing?”
Jack jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Eddie. “He’s getting sick! He’s gonna puke!”
Right on cue, Eddie retched.
“Oh, no, he’s not!” the trooper said, eyes widening. “Not in any car I’m driving!”
As Jack watched him slam the door and hurry around the rear to Eddie’s side, a question nibbled at his brain. Wouldn’t a real trooper have said
car”?
When he reached Eddie’s door he pul ed it open and yanked him out.
“If you’re gonna puke,” he said, pointing Eddie away from the car, “you do it out here.” He turned and jabbed a finger and Jack and Weezy. “Don’t get
any ideas.”
As soon as he turned away, Jack crawled over Weezy.
She gasped. “What are you—?”
“Shhh!”
He stretched out across her lap, reaching for the edge of the half-open door, then hesitated. The trooper was behind Eddie, holding a fistful of the back
of his T-shirt to make sure he didn’t try to run. But if he happened to reach back and slam it closed with Jack’s hand there, it could be bye-bye fingers.
Do it!
He stretched his arm to the limit, ran his fingers along the rear of the door edge until he found the little toggle switch. He pushed it up—no go. But a
downward push clicked it into a new position—the unlocked position, he hoped.
He straightened up and looked out the rear window. He could see Eddie bent over, retching, putting on a
