“What do you think?” she whispered.
“I don’t like the way it’s just sitting here.”
“Do you think he can see us?”
“I doubt it.”
For a while, they watched the car in silence.
“This is crazy,” Deana finally said. “Why doesn’t he go away?”
“Maybe it
“With the engine going?”
“It’s like he’s waiting,” Allan said.
“Yeah. For us.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing can happen as long as he stays in the car and we stay here.”
“What if he gets out?”
“Comes looking for us?”
“Yeah.”
“It’d be easy to hide from him. He wouldn’t know where to start looking. Maybe we could even double back to my car.”
“Maybe we should just go to your car. Right now.”
“You think so?” Allan asked.
Her heart pounded so hard, it made her chest ache.
“At least we’d get it over with. We can’t wait around all night. And we don’t really know what he’s doing in there.”
“Maybe just enjoying the scenery,” Allan suggested in a nervous whisper. “You want to give it a try?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was your idea.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about it.”
“It’s either that or we try to wait him out.” Allan looked over his shoulder at Deana. “Maybe we should go ahead with our original plan.”
“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“He might be gone by the time we get back.”
“And if he isn’t and he nails us,” Deana said, “at least we’ll have shared a few moments of bliss.”
“Bliss?”
“Ditto.”
“We’re going to feel like a couple of prize idiots after we stroll out to the car and drive off and he’s still sitting there.”
“Does that mean you want to do it?” Allan asked.
“No, I don’t want to do it, goddamn it, I’m scared shitless, but what sort of choice do we have?”
“We’d only be out in the open for a few seconds.”
“Yeah. What’s he going to do, spray us with lead?”
Allan pushed himself away from the tree trunk and stood up straight. He took a deep, loud breath and blew it out. He had the wadded blanket under his left arm. He dug his right hand into the pocket of his cords, took out his keys, and picked through them until he found the car key.
“Did you lock your side?” he whispered.
“Yeah. I always do.”
“Okay, you take the keys. Once you’re in, reach across and unlock my door.”
“Don’t give me this ‘ladies first’ stuff. You’re quicker than me.”
“Deana.” He sounded ready to argue, but paused. He was silent for a few seconds. “I know what we’ll do,” he said. “You wait here. I’ll go out to the car and bring it right up to here. Sideways, so it’ll shield you. Then you just jump in, and off we go.”
“Don’t be a…” She shook her head. That’s right, she thought, snap at him for offering to take all the risk. Leaning closer, she kissed him softly on the mouth. “You’re all right,” she whispered.
“You too.”
She stroked his cheek. She almost said that she loved him, but decided it would sound too sappy and melodramatic. This is it. End of the road. I love you. Violins. Hand in hand, the lovers stride toward their rendezvous with death.
An hour from now, we’ll be laughing about this.
Sure. Maybe in a week.
“We go out together,” she said.
“I really think…”
“You and me, pardner. Butch and Sundance.”
“Please.
“Let’s get it over with.” She took the blanket from him. He didn’t put up a fuss, apparently realizing that they would have to rely on his quickness if something went wrong. She held his hand. It felt wet and cold.
They stepped out from behind the tree and walked through the high grass, straight toward the front of his Mustang.
The headlights of the other car came on. Deana’s stomach gave a cold lurch. One of the beams was high. It crossed the other. She moaned.
“Just act normal,” Allan said.
A foot in front of the bumper, they parted hands and split up, Deana walking to the passenger door while Allan stepped to the driver’s door. She gripped the handle, thumb on the latch button, ready. Forcing her eyes away from the other car, she looked across the Mustang’s low roof and watched Allan bend over. She heard the rasp of his key entering the lock, the quiet thump of the button popping up. Allan swung his door open.
The other car sprang forward, roaring. Allan’s head snapped toward it. He was bright in the glare of its headlights, hunched over, mouth wide.
“Get in!” Deana yelled. Dropping the blanket, she ducked and peered through the door window. The ceiling light was on. Allan dived at the driver’s seat. The car got his legs, yanked him out. Deana lurched back, numb, as the speeding car ripped off the driver’s door.
It was slow motion.
It was impossible.
It was the door flipping upward, twisting, skidding across the hood of the Mustang with a trail of sparks and the car rushing past with Allan in front, hooked over the bumper, out of sight from his waist down, the rest of him draped across the side of the car, arms flapping loosely overhead.
Brakes screaming, the car had too much speed to stop before the edge of the lot. It bumped over the grass and smashed into a tree. The tree caught Allan in the rump. He was thrown backward from the waist, hair flying, arms flinging out.
The backup lights came on. The car shot backward. Allan rolled loose, hung in the air for a moment in front of the one working headlight, then dropped and tumbled.
Deana was numb, frozen. But there was a lucid corner of her mind that somehow took control. She peered through the window of the passenger door as the other car shot backward. Allan’s keys lay on the seat where they must have fallen when he was hit. Though she knew her door was locked, she thumbed the latch button anyway and jerked. The door stayed shut. The other car had stopped slightly ahead of the Mustang. Its door opened.
Deana ran.
She ran for the woods, not looking back.
FOUR
