Lacey smiled and then wiped away a few tears. Throughout the ordeal, she’d appreciated the kindness and love everyone had shown them.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I wish you could’ve known Owen. He was perfect in so many ways.”
Tucker walked toward his mother and provided her a cup of coffee. He’d added just the right amount of cream and sugar. She took a sip and smiled at her son as she mouthed the words thank you.
“Some ladies made you a few pastries. You know, if Dr. Brady approves.”
The door opened wider, and Dr. Brady suddenly appeared with a clipboard, a Styrofoam cup of coffee, and a disapproving look.
“Lacey, just where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he looked her up and down.
“Good morning, Doctor. I’m feeling much better, and there are some things I need to deal with.”
“More important than your health?” he asked, confirming he wasn’t happy with her actions.
“It’s just. Well, I need to breathe. I mean, I need to get out—”
Tucker noticed his mom getting emotional, so he rushed to her side. He hugged her and then helped her sit down.
Dr. Brady set the clipboard on the bed and handed his coffee to Sheriff Mobley, who continued to watch with a concerned look on his face. Dr. Brady approached Lacey and crouched in front of her.
“Lacey, I get it. You wanna run as fast as you can and as far away from here as you can. I don’t blame you. But you’re not a hundred percent yet. I’m talking about mentally and physically.”
Lacey was sobbing. She choked up as she spit out the words. “I feel better. I even dressed myself. I’m fine.”
“You’re still recovering from a dangerous, traumatic injury. Coupled with your loss, it’s premature to be galivanting around. Please consider staying in the hospital one more day.”
“Are you not gonna discharge me?” she asked, wiping away the tears.
He chuckled. “We’re a little short on formalities nowadays. Of course you’re free to go. I’m just concerned for you.”
She began to reel off a litany of things she needed to do, from getting their truck fixed to finding gasoline. Sheriff Mobley stepped in to reassure her.
“Mrs. McDowell—” he began before she interrupted him.
“Lacey.”
“Okay, Lacey. We have your truck right down the street, and it’s repaired. We’ve filled up your fuel cans. The only thing left to do was a suggestion I made to Tucker.”
“What was it?”
“Black & Blue stands out too much for a long trip, Mom. We need to make it look busted up.”
“You want to bust up Owen’s truck?” she asked, causing a few more tears to flow.
Sheriff Mobley quickly replied, “No. No. Not at all. Just a unique paint job to make it less noticeable, that’s all. You can fix it back later.”
She furrowed her brow and then thought for a moment. “I have to bury my husband.”
Dr. Brady and Sheriff Mobley exchanged glances. “Lacey, the ground is frozen solid now. I took the liberty to speak with Curtis Peacock at the funeral home down the street. He has a crematory at their place. It’ll take some creative work with our portable generators, but he said he can help.”
The cremation process requires superheating the retort, or the cremation chamber, to a temperature ranging between fourteen and eighteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The device needed a combination of electricity and propane gas to operate.
“That would be okay,” mumbled Lacey. “May I take his ashes with us? If he has something …” Lacey’s voice trailed off as she began to cry again. Tucker welled up in tears in despair over his mother’s sadness. He tried to calm her down.
Dr. Brady saw the grief they continued to experience and tried to convince them to stay in the hospital. He offered them a vacant room on the top floor, far away from any activity, where they could be alone.
Lacey recovered and thanked him but declined. She was adamant and finally gained his acquiescence. The doctor made her agree to one more physical examination and to promise to dutifully take the medications he would obtain for her.
She agreed by providing him a simple nod. She suddenly found herself unable to speak again.
Part V
Day eighteen, Monday, November 4
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Monday, November 4
North Florida
That night, Peter and Rafael dragged the bodies behind the motel and covered them with a tarp they found. The two men piled cinder blocks on top to provide them some protection from wild critters that roamed the woods behind the buildings. The two men didn’t think the four deserved a proper burial. They were the worst kind of criminal opportunists, who preyed on the innocents, and therefore, they got what they deserved.
The rest of the group helped clean up the truck and later thanked the guys for their bravery. None of them questioned their motives, especially after they learned of Mr. Uber and Greyhound’s plans for the two women. After a cold night in which Peter and Rafael took turns standing watch, they piled into the military-surplus cargo truck and began their ride south along U.S. 301 that would take them through the heart of Old Florida toward the Tampa Bay area.
It was agreed that Rafael and his family would keep the truck. They promised to deliver everyone to their destinations if their fuel supply allowed.
Early that morning, with everyone else, including Peter, bundled up in the cargo bed, they made their way through Jesup and then into rural southern Georgia. They crossed the Florida state line, expecting warmer temperatures to greet them. They were disappointed, but not surprised. Even the palm trees had a dusting of white snow mixed with grayish soot.
Along the way, they encountered more refugees on foot. Stalled cars had been abandoned. Some had been broken into while others had their doors left open, hoping to
