they were around the next turn and on the straightaway headed for the highway.
They passed the Pine Tree Motel doing eighty. He was doing ninety in third gear, with the tachometer pinned, as they shot from the ramp onto the highway, and she was holding her breath when he shifted into fourth at a hundred and five.
The Corvette was flying, but Sarah wasn’t enjoying the experience. Tail lights were coming up fast. Coffee moved into the left lane, passing a milk tanker, then a UPS tractor trailer at a hundred and thirty. The speedometer went up to a hundred and sixty, and he still had a gear to go.
She wondered what he would do if he passed a Highway Patrolman. They had high powered cars fitted with skilled drivers. Would he try and out run one of them? It wouldn’t be as easy as surprising a small town sheriff.
But there were no Highway Patrolmen on this section of the highway at this hour of the night and the road became his. He shifted into fifth, pinning the speedometer, keeping his foot on the floor, gobbling up the road as he increased the distance between themselves and whatever it was that had surprised them in the night, back on the twisty, curvy Solitude River Road.
He eased off the accelerator after about ten minutes, letting the speed drop to a hundred and thirty. He held it there. Every now and then they passed a truck or car doing sixty-five or seventy and he would slow to a hundred as they passed, then promptly bring the speed back up.
Two or three times they came up on vehicles in the fast lane doing about eighty, but a quick flick of the bright lights got them to pull over. She wished the top was up, because the cold wind stole through to her soul and her naked skin was covered in goose bumps. She wondered what he was going to do when they reached the part of the highway, coming up fast, that bent and twisted along the ocean.
He slowed to ninety during the first bend, testing to see if the car would hold the road. He took the speed back up to over a hundred when he found out it would, taking the turns without backing off on the speed or downshifting. She grabbed a quick hope-she’d given him the car with hardly any gas, but, when she glanced at the fuel gauge, it was quickly dashed. Ever the gentleman, he had filled the tank.
Sometimes the highway bent into a sharp curve and he was forced to slide down to eighty, but he averaged over a hundred for over an hour, before he brought the speed down to a respectable sixty miles per hour. Sarah lay back and breathed in the misty air coming in from the sea. After that wild ride, sixty seemed like slow motion.
Up ahead, she saw the glowing lights of one of those off ramps that offered fast food, fuel and lodging. He eased the battered Corvette into the right lane, dropping the speed down to fifty. Sarah slid back further into her seat. Maybe the insanity was almost over.
She wondered why he was stopping, and why here. He wasn’t stopping for gas, or directions. She couldn’t imagine he was going to McDonald’s, and keyed up like he was, she didn’t think he had the motel in mind. She would just have to sit tight and be quiet and wait and see what developed, because it didn’t look like he was going to tell her.
He took the car off the ramp at thirty five, passing a Shell station, and turned into a parking lot shared by a Denny’s Restaurant at one end and Jack’s Honky Tonk Saloon at the other. He drove up to the bar, parking between a Ford Van and a Chevy Pickup. She could hear Johnny Cash on the jukebox filtering out from the bar. Nice music drifting through a quiet night. Her ordeal was finally over. Now, all she had to do was find some clothes, get a ride home and see if Harrison got the fire department to her house in time to save anything.
“ Stay here,” he said, turning to her. He tried to look her in the eyes, but his gaze drifted down to her naked breasts. She wanted to cover them, but she appreciated the look, despite everything he’d put her through, and besides he’d seen them bobbing, thumping and rolling for the whole wild ride, a few more seconds wasn’t going to hurt. But it would be the last time he’d ever see them, she thought.
“ Where are you going? she asked.
“ To get another car and you something to wear.”
“ Then what?”
“ Then we drive back to Palma. I still have a little girl to protect.”
“ It was just an animal. It’s dead.”
“ Lady, what will it take to convince you. You saw it last night and you refuse to believe. It crashed into your house tonight, bent on killing us. It tried to get us on the road, and would have succeeded if not for your shooting, and still you doubt?”
“ I feel bad about the bear. It’s illegal to shoot them. They’re endangered.”
“ That was no bear.”
“ It was a bear.”
“ Then why’d you shoot.”
“ I was frightened and not thinking clearly.” She met his gaze head on and this time held his eyes with hers.
“ Okay, Sarah, I don’t want to fight with you. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“ What about me?”
“ You wanna come with me?”
“ No, but I don’t want to sit here with the top down, naked in the moonlight.”
“ All right.” He restarted the car and tried to get the top to come up, but all they heard was the struggling of the electric motor. He got out of the car and tried to raise it by hand, but the collision with the police car had done enough damage to keep the top permanently down.
“ Great, now what do I do?” she asked.
“ Sit low in the seat till I get back,” he said and then he was gone, leaving Sarah to bask alone in the glow of the red and white flashing neon sign of Jack’s Honky Tonk Saloon, while she listened to Johnny Cash sing his truck driving songs.
After a few minutes she settled in. Johnny Cash shifted into Dolly Parton who became Patsy Cline. Then the music went up and she popped open her eyes. The music was louder because the tavern door was open. Someone was coming. She slunk low in the seat as two men passed by the rear of the Corvette.
She heard a car start, then another. She listened as the sounds they made disappeared into the night. The highway, close by, reminded her of a river as she settled back and closed her eyes again. The passing cars, like running water rippling by. She thought of those drivers going on their long trips, some in a hurry, others taking their time, all with the radio on or a cassette playing to drown out the silent night and pass away the time. None of them giving a thought to the people and lives in the small towns they were driving through.
“ How does it feel to be like a rolling stone,” she heard the gravel twangy voice of Bob Dylan and wondered who slipped that one in there. She imagined howls of protest when the song started. Then she smiled. Maybe not, she thought-it was a great song. Maybe it was on the juke for a reason. Maybe they liked it.
She was so caught up in the music, she didn’t notice the volume rise when the bar door opened again, and she didn’t notice it fade back down when it closed. But she did notice the sound of heavy breathing, the smell of beer breath, and the feel of eyes crawling along her naked flesh.
She opened her eyes.
A beefy hand clamped around her jaw, thumb and fingers pressing against her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. She gagged as a man with a ruddy face shoved a bandanna into her mouth.
“ Get the door open, Willy.”
“ Yeah, Gus, yeah Gus,” Willy said.
She stared wide-eyed as a short, stubby man fumbled a key in the door of the Ford Van. She tried to scream through the bandanna as the door slid open. Then she felt the knife at her throat.
“ I never had me a dead woman,” the man with the knife and the fleshy hands said. Dead came out, dayed.
She choked back the scream. Whatever these men were going to do to her couldn’t be as bad as that knife at her throat, but she wasn’t going to give in easily.
“ Better, lady,” Gus said, and he opened the door of the Corvette and pulled her out.
“ This is gonna be great, Gus. This is gonna be great, Gus,” Willy said.
“ Into the van,” Gus said. He had a large hand wrapped around her wrist, but when he lowered the knife to push her into the van, she jammed her elbow into his stomach, causing a whoosh of air to rush out of his lungs. But he didn’t let go of her wrist, and he didn’t drop the knife.
“ You okay, Gus? You okay, Gus?” Willy whined.
