Destination 1974

Chapter 19

|The youngest criminal on death row was a 16-year-old boy |

~***~

"Let's face it, we're lost!" I cross my arms and start tapping my toe impatiently on the earth.

"I know I left my truck here somewhere," Clyde replies as he continues ahead, "It shouldn't be much farther."

"You said that ten minutes ago," I roll my eyes and release my arms, "we're lost, Clyde." He stops in his tracks and turns around.

"Look, we're not lost until I say we're lost," he waves his hand, "now follow me."

"Why'd you have to park your truck in the middle of the forest?" I groan as I trudge behind Clyde, pushing leaves and bushes out of my way as I follow him.

"I parked it here because I couldn't be seen anywhere near that facility in my pickup," he looks over his shoulder, "they'd never believe anything I'd say, otherwise. It's all about appearances, Mona."

I nod and push another branch out of my way, "oh - also, where'd you get that car we were in?" I add after he faces the unmarked path in front of him. He lifts his head but doesn't say anything.

"We're in the willowwacks, Clyde. Nobody else is gonna hear your master plan - unless there's a witch in a gingerbread house nearby," I wave my arms around, "why didn't you at least leave a goddamned breadcrumb trail - or anything that would mark where we're going?"

Clyde stops and sighs as he rubs his face with his hand. He turns around, his features sweaty and strained from the amount of stress he's probably feeling right now. "Look, would you do me a favour," he steps closer to me, "and shut the f*** up?"

"Sorry, it just feels like this was extremely under-planed," I reply, and Clyde waves his arms frustratingly, turning around to walk away from me. I start marching behind him, "you couldn't have possibly done any of that without making a detailed plan," he ignores me as he pushes branches out of his way, allowing them to smack me in the face, "I mean, you even brought spray paint to cover up the cameras. How could you've thought of everything, except how to find your truck in the woods?"

He stops, causing me to walk right into his sweaty back. I back up and look up at him as he turns around again, this time he looks even more irritated. "I thought I told you to shut up. I can't concentrate with you constantly bickering behind me."

"Well sorry for being skeptical. I just wanted to know--"

"Shut up," he looks distracted as his head snaps one way to the next, completely dismissing me.

"I swear to god, Clyde. If you---mmph mmm!" his hand covers my mouth as he shushes me, looking around us with a focused stare. He hears something that I can't hear. I look around, ignoring his clammy hand on my mouth as he holds me close, squinting at the bushes in the distance to our right.

"Do you hear that?" he whispers, letting go of my face. I instinctively wipe my mouth and furrow my brows towards his line of sight. I aim my ear towards the area, trying to hear whatever it is he hears.

It's quiet, but I can hear it.

"It sounds like music," I say, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. He nods in agreement, and carefully starts walking towards the sound. I stand still with wide eyes, "what the f*** are you doing?" I whisper harshly at him.

He turns and shushes me before waving me over to him. I roll my eyes and cautiously follow behind him.

Crunch, swish, chirp. The music gets louder.