Destination 1974

Chapter 4

| The clown car's glove department |

~***~

We walk in bitter silence for the entire quarter of a mile until his truck is a few feet away from us. Clyde shoves me towards his pickup, and I stumble to catch my balance. I stand beside the driver's seat while he opens the door to toss my bag on the bench. He leaves the door ajar and faces me while crossing his arms.

"You're gonna help me push my truck to a gas station," Clyde states while impatiently drumming his fingers on his crossed arms.

I casually lift an eyebrow and frown. "No. I don't have to do anything for you."

Clyde's eyebrow cocks up at my remark, and he simply smirks. "You're the one handcuffed, sweetheart. I have the upper hand here."

"Where the hell did you even get handcuffs in the first place? --" I quickly change the subject while gesturing as much as I can with my limited arm access. I wiggle my arms to get the cuffs to chime with a raised eyebrow.

"They were in my glove department. Now start steering while I push from the back," Clyde replies while walking to the back of the truck. I don't move, however, and I just ask, "Jesus, what else do you have hiding in your glove department?"

Clyde releases the truck with an irritated sigh and grumbles, "That's not important. All you need to worry about is getting your sorry ass to start steering the truck back to where we came from. I'll push from behind."

I groan but finally submit to his orders. I grab the steering wheel and turn it to the far left before gripping it to start pushing. Clyde counts down from three, and we start pushing in sync. The truck slowly starts moving, and it makes a pretty smooth U-turn - considering the circumstance.

Once we're finally heading towards the town we came from, and have a pretty good momentum going, I ask the burning question that's probably been on both of our minds this whole time, "So...are you gonna let me go once you get gas in your precious truck?"

Clyde mockingly laughs. "Hell, no! I'm taking you straight to the police once we're finished here."

I stop in my tracks, "What, no!" Clyde stubbornly stops pushing with his features twisting into boiling frustration at my lack of coöperation, "Why‽"

Clyde sighs and rubs his palm across his cheek. "You had dirt and dried blood all over yourself when I found you. My initial reaction was to help you --"

"Well, I never asked for your help!" I interrupt, trying to cross my arms, but they fumble awkwardly since I forgot about the handcuffs.

"Well, I'm sorry for trying to be a reasonable human being!" I try to speak, but my breath hitches, and I'm stuck with my mouth open like a trout. Clyde bangs his truck and steps round to approach me, "-- and another thing! I pick you up, buy you food, offer you help to escape whatever the hell you're coming from - and you repay me by stealing my truck, draining the gas tank, and leaving 'er on the side of the road! I even saved you from a potential threat, and you still go through with screwing me over!"

"You're the moron who decided to help me," I reply while leaning into his boundaries, and it causes him to just squint and lower his head.

"Just steer the goddamned truck, kid. The sooner we get to town, the sooner you can be out of my life."

"Fine."

"Good."

~***~

We manage to make it to the gas station on the edge of town, and I tiredly switch gears to park as we roll up beside a gas pump. I slam the door shut, and I rub my irritated wrists while Clyde walks over to the gas pump to place it into the gas chamber of the pickup. He walks up to me and grabs my wrists with a key in his hand.

Is he gonna take these damn things off?

Clyde unlocks one cuff, but swiftly holds my hands behind my back and re-cuffs me before grabbing my elbow again. He leads me to the passenger seat, and I sit there in bitter silence as he shuts the door behind me. I stare at the gas station sign and raise an eyebrow at the price. "Fifty cents for a gallon?" I turn to face Clyde. "You're getting ripped off by eleven cents," he shrugs at my remark with the gas hose in his grip.

"It's not like I have much of a choice, sweetheart," Clyde replies while finishing off with pumping gas in his tank and gesturing to the entire situation. "Touché," I mutter while turning to stare out the windshield. As I hear the bell jingle, indicating Clyde is in the store to pay, I start to devise some sort of escape plan. I fumble through my back pockets. I feel my hair elastic, two bobby pins, and my knife in the other pocket. Thank God I only own one pair of jeans. I casually slip a bobby pin out of my pocket, and I jiggle it into the lock to pick it open. Clyde entering the truck causes my fingers to stumble and lose the bobby pin down the cushion. Dammit. I nonchalantly reach for the second, and last, bobby pin while he closes the door and starts the car.

"-- happen to see, the most beautiful girl in the world?"

"Oh God, I hate this song," I grumble under my breath while rolling my eyes at the overplayed song. Clyde just cocks up his eyebrow and glares knowingly at me. Clyde leans forward and turns up the volume before simply driving out of the gas station without exchanging another word.

Wow, he sure can be an asshole when he's angry.

I know we're headed to the police station now, so I have to move fast. I keep fiddling around with the lock on the handcuffs while I make small talk with Clyde. He keeps blowing it off, however, thinking that I'm trying to distract him from going to the police station in town. Crocodile Rock comes on the radio just as I free myself from the handcuffs. We come to a stop at a red light intersection, and I glance out the window at the sidewalk.

"I love this song...too bad I'm gonna miss it," I mumble as I stare longingly at the sidewalk. Clyde scans me with furrowed eyebrows like I'm some puzzle. I swiftly handcuff him to his steering wheel and book it out of his truck. He sits stunned for a moment and tries to soak up the situation like a fish out of water.

"Son of a b!tch!" I hear Clyde yell as he turns down the road to drive after me. I lift my arm in the air and point my middle finger at him.

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