The Run

189

The man drives on Interstate 70. He's holding the wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, and the muscles in his forearm are starting to hurt, but he is not in a position to let go. His mind is foggy and he is angry. In fact, he's been in a constant state of anger for the past six months, and he doesn't think time will manage to calm him down this time. 

He glances at the dashboard, then pushes his feet down on the accelerator. He is tempted to go over the speed limit, but he knows he can't take the risk of being pulled over. This would ruin his plans. So he breathes out through his mouth, and in through his nose, and the tension in his leg relaxes a little bit. He's not over the speed limit, but he still goes as fast as he can. 

The sun is slowly rising, the first rays warming up the man's back as he glanced over to the passenger seat. That girl is still there. What did she say her name was? Emmie? The man rolls his eyes, not at the girl's pretty name, nor at the fact that she is sleeping again - how can she sleep so much when he can't even close his eyes? - but at himself.

He shouldn't have accepted to drive her to Columbus. He shouldn't have let her into the car again after she came back from her place, sobbing. He shouldn't have asked her to go back to the treehouse to retrieve the bag that was now sitting in the trunk of the car, full of dollars he didn't even know how he would use.

But yet again, the bag wouldn't be sitting in the trunk if it wasn't for her because he would never have been able to go up there himself. And as much as he didn't really need the millions of dollars filling the back of the car, he sure needed some cash to go on for another six months at least. He could have used one of his many credit cards, for sure, but that was too great a risk. And he didn't have them anymore, anyway. He had thrown them all into the Ohio River back in Cincinnati after making sure all his bank accounts were emptied.

As the man continues driving, staring straight ahead, his mind reels back to the previous night, when the girl had finally woken up and realized they were in the middle of the woods. 

"Are you gonna rape and kill me, Tyler?" she asked with a scoff, visibly unsure if the joke was appropriate or if she was just laughing out of nervousness.

The man had closed his eyes then, the name still painful in his ears, before he dismissed her last words with a wave of the hand. "Don't be silly," he said, "I just... I need you to do something for me."

She raised an eyebrow, gauging him with a hesitating look on her face. "What is it?"

"There's a treehouse down that path," he said, "like, five minutes away. I need you to get up there and get a bag that's inside a safe." 

"Why don't you do it yourself?" she said, a hint of curiosity in her voice. 

"Because," he dismissed her again. "The code is-"

"Why n-"

"Just because, okay?" he clapped back, his hand hitting the wheel forcefully, and she jumped a little bit in her seat. Yet, when he glanced back at her again, inhaling deeply to calm the trembling in his hands, she didn't look scared. "Please don't ask questions and help me out?"

"What am I winning in this?"

This time, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow as she let out a quick laugh. "You don't think I do stuff for people just like that, do you? What's in it for me?"

The man watched her silently for a few seconds, his mouth agape as he wondered what kind of woman he had fished, before he mumbled, "Fine, what do you want?"

She twisted, satisfied, in her seat. "I want to travel with you."

"Wh- Why? Where are you going anyway?"