I swallowed. “Okay.”

  “They also know that we’re going to Florida, which means they’re looking for us.”

  I ran my hand over my face. “How current is that information?”

  “Current.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with fright.

  “Okay. Do they say anything about what we’re driving?”

  She shook her head.

  I clenched and unclenched my hand on the steering wheel, then shifted into gear and pulled back onto the road.

  “What d’you wanna do?” she asked.

  “Go for it. They don’t know what we’re driving, and they don’t know what road we’re on. That means they won’t have time to set up a road block.”

  She tapped a few keys on the laptop. “They’re setting up checkpoints.”

  We reached the toll booth just before the bridge over to Fishermans Island. There was a line of cars ahead of us.

  “We should switch seats,” Mel said.

  “You sure?”

  “Cameras at the booth aren’t the real problem. The toll booth operators are.”

  “They’re looking for us both,” I said, taking off my seatbelt.

  “Yeah, but I’m less conspicuous.”

  I shifted into park as soon as the cars ahead of us stopped again and quickly stepped out of the truck, hurrying to the back seat even as Mel climbed across the center console into the driver’s seat. She shifted back into gear just before the cars ahead of us started moving again. I kept my head down and stared through the windshield at the cars ahead of us, and the toll booth just up the road, trying to judge whether or not they’d noticed our little ‘Chinese Fire Drill.’

  Nothing looked suspicious, though, so I ducked down as Mel approached the booth. She slipped a pair of sunglass out of her jacket pocket and put them on, fronting an air of bored disinterest.

  I stayed low, listening to the sound of the engine, pressing my face into the fabric of the back seat. The truck pulled up to the booth, and Mel opened the passenger window, paid the fare, and then pulled on through.

  I rose from the seat. “Well, that went off without a hitch.”

  She shook her head. “No it didn’t. He recognized me.”

  “You don’t know that—”

  “He recognized me, Ger! I saw it on his face.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, unsure what to say. I glanced at the passenger seat, where Mel’s laptop sat. “Think that’ll give us an update?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t check and drive at the same time.”

  “All right.” I reached over the seat and put my hands on the wheel. “Set the cruise control, then we’ll switch.”

  “You just gonna climb over the—oh, all right.” She hit the cruise button and moved over while I steered from the back. Once she was out of the way, I slipped over the console and into the driver’s seat.

  Mel opened her laptop and began checking the database she’d hacked into. I took the truck off cruise and hit the accelerator.

  She swore. “He’s just called it in. Wait, says nothing about you, though.”

  “Okay. That’s good. That might help.”

  “It’s a BOLO alert for the truck.”

  I sucked in a breath and glanced in the rearview mirror. There was no real traffic behind us. At least not for a couple miles at least. “Okay. I’ve got an idea.”

  I steered the truck to the side. Mel’s eyes formed a question. “Get out.”

  “No, Ger.”

  “Get out of the truck, Mel!” She looked hurt and frightened. “Trust me,” I added.

  Reluctantly, she packed up her laptop in her duffel bag and climbed out. I shut the door behind her, started the truck moving again, and hit RESUME on the cruise control. As soon as the engine revved to put the truck back up to speed, I opened the driver’s door and jumped free.

  Hit the pavement. Rolled. Pain shot up my legs, arms, neck, back. Kept rolling. Mel screamed. Kept rolling.

  I came to a stop in the grass of the median, spitting dust and gravel out of my mouth. I looked up and saw Mel running toward me, the duffel bag cradled in her arms. Looked the other way, and saw our truck barreling down the road in a more or less straight path. Come on, I thought. Come on!

  The truck began to veer to the right. It rolled over the rumble strips with a loud hum just as Mel reached me. “Are you crazy?!”

  You know it, I thought. The truck passed the rumble strips, hit the guardrail. A shower of sparks with the screech of grinding metal filled the air. The truck peeled away, its direction shifting from the impact with the railing. Turning, it crossed the median as other vehicles raced toward it.

  With a screech of brakes, the other cars narrowly averted disaster as our truck hit the guard rail on the far side and plunged over into the waters below.

  All manner of cars stopped and people rushed out, hurrying toward the side to see what had just happened.

  “Come on.” I grabbed her arm and hurried across the median, nearing the crowd of people gathering about the site of the doomed truck.

  “What are you doing?” Mel panted beside me.

  Together we raced passed the crowd to the first stopped vehicle on the other side. The doors hung open, and the engine was still running. It was a white Camry.

  “Get in,” I ordered.

  Mel climbed in the other side, and without looking back I slammed the car into drive and quickly steered out of the road. The car bucked as it crossed the median, and then we were home free on the other side, hurtling toward the bridge and the tunnel. Mel stared at the crowd milling around.

  “Holy crap,” she breathed. “Holy crap! I cannot believe you just did that!”

  I glanced her way and grinned. “Think he’ll notice his car is gone?”

  “Yah.”

  “Then we’ll ditch it once we’re across the bay.”

  “You do realize this leaves us without a set of wheels.”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  “We’ve also got no money and nothing to get us the rest of the way to Jacksonville.”

  “One thing at a time.”

  “And you’re bleeding.”

  I reached up and turned the rear view mirror to my face, seeing the line of red flowing down my cheek from my temple. Glancing down, I noticed now that my pants were shredded, along with my jacket, and more blood was seeping into my clothes. “Yep,” I said.

  “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “Trying not to think about it.”

  A pair of police cruisers, lights blazing, blew past us heading in the other direction. “Attaboy,” I muttered.

  “We gotta get you cleaned up.”

  “Let’s get through the tunnel first.”

  Chapter 14

  More emergency vehicles sailed by in the other lane, hurrying toward the scene of my little accident. My legs and arms burned from the road rash I’d earned in that little stunt, along with my back and sides. The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how lucky I’d been not to have snapped my neck or broken a leg. An arm I could’ve dealt with, though Mel would have to have driven the car. I was damned lucky, and I knew it.

  Still, I looked like I’d been worked over by some of my old cell mates. We reached the tunnel without a hitch, though, and soon we were cruising through.

  “Ger, why don’t you pull over and let me drive?”

  “Just wanna get through the tunnel, first.”

  “Yeah, but you should really clean yourself up. Look, this guy’s got some handy-wipes in his glove box. You can use them to at least get the dirt out before you get an infection or something.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No. It’s not. Come on. I’ll drive. You clean yourself up.”

  “Mel—”

  “Damn it, Ger? Will you listen to me?”

  “You gonna quit nagging me?”

  “Only if you do as I say.”

  I sighed. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up.”

  I stopped the car, reasonably confident no one was behind us, and climbed out. Mel joined me nearly on my side as I limped over to the passenger seat. She helped me in, and then hurried back to the front. I winced as I put the seatbelt on.

  “Wipes in the glove box, tough guy,” she said.

  I reached forward, pulled out the wipes, and took off my shirt.

  It was a little worse than I’d thought. No, make that a lot worse.

  Mel swore when she saw the damage. “Ger, we gotta get you to a hospital.”

  I’d torn a major gash in my side. Blood flowed freely down, soaking my pants and the seat. I balled up the shirt and stuffed it against my ribs, holding it in place with my elbow. I undid my belt and took it off, then started wrapping it around my midsection. “Little help here?”

  Mel reached over and took hold of the belt as I slipped the end through the buckle. “Pull that tight,” I instructed. She cinched it against me, tightening the belt against the ball of my shirt, which was pressed against the worst of my wound. I slipped the tongue through the hole and nodded.

  “You need a doctor.”

  I shook my head.

  “It needs stitches.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I breathed. “But ain’t no way we can go to a hospital.”

  “Well, what do you want to do then?”

  “Gotta do it ourselves.”

  “With what?”

  “Get us across the border, and then find us a pharmacy.”

  She nodded. “We don’t have any money.”

  “I know. We’re gonna have to take what we need. Just a sewing kit. Some… alcohol… to sterilize. Pain… med. And… clothes.”

  I wheezed with every word. Pain flooded my body, making it hard to breathe. A red miasma swam before my eyes.

  “Ger? Ger?!”

  I passed out.

  ***

  I don’t know how Mel did it. Most of my memory on that point is somewhat hazy. I remember her saying to hold on, and thinking her voice sounded like it came from a hollow drum. And I remember her hovering over me, when somehow I was no longer in the car. There was a light above me, then. Not a bright one, and nothing like the kind of thing that people say they see when they die and go down a tunnel.

  Then I distinctly remember her saying I was gonna be okay.

  After that? Nothing.

  I woke up, a dull ache seething through my body and pulsing between my ears. I was in a room with a fluorescent tube overhead that flickered and pulsed, like the ballasts were going inside. I lay on a single mattress, covered by a foul-smelling, ratty blanket.

  I shoved the rag off and sat up.

  My pants were new. Jeans I didn’t remember. I had nothing on top except a heavy bandage wrapped around my ribs.

  Looking around, I spied a shirt hanging over the back of a folding chair beside a low table, but there was nothing else in the room. Some foul graffiti had been scrawled across the walls, and the room stank of urine and some other malodorous scent I didn’t recognize.

  I stood up and the room spun a bit. I grabbed the chair with the shirt to steady myself, taking in copious gulps of air till the red miasma before my eyes finally cleared. There was an unopened bottle of water sitting on the table. I grabbed it and unscrewed the cap, then powered it down. The last few ounces I splashed over my face, rubbing down my cheeks and my eyes. There was another bandage on my temple that came off in my hand. The blood inside it was dried, though, so I figured I’d be okay.

  Assuming the shirt was for me, I slipped it on and tugged it over my ribs. It was a little tight, but it was either that or I go around half-naked. My feet made a scraping sound across the floor, and the wooden planks felt rough and uneven, as if they hadn’t been properly cleaned or maintained in some time. A sandy grit now covered my soles. I glanced around, hoping to spy some shoes, but there were none to be had.

  I crossed the room to the only door, grasped the handle, and tugged on it. The door refused to budge. I glanced up and realized it had a deadbolt lock turned from the inside.

  Someone had a key and had locked me in here. I twisted the lock, and then opened the door.

  The smell that assaulted me in the room was much stronger in the hallway. The fluorescent tube in the ceiling glowed a little brighter than the one in the room had, but that was about all that could be positively said for the place. The walls still showed the same kind of random graffiti I’d seen in the bedroom. There were a number of other doors in the hall, looking similar to my own, and all securely closed. I moved through the hall cautiously, grimacing at every creak in the floorboards. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  When I reached the corner, I nearly tripped over a body. I swore and caught my balance, gaping at the form lying prone against the wall. The woman was covered in sores, and bore a hollow, jaundiced look. Her eyes were open, staring vacantly at the opposite wall. I was certain she was dead, until her chest rose and fell with a slow breath.

  Her arms were full of needle tracks.

  I excused myself and stepped over her, narrowly missing the hypodermic needle that lay discarded on the floor beside her, its jagged tip pointing menacingly in my direction.

  Now I was really wishing I had some shoes.

  I encountered two more people before I reached the stairs, and there things did not improve. A young man, looking no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, sat naked on the steps. I stepped over him, and as I did so he looked up. “Hey,” he said.

  I nearly missed the next step. “Oh. Hey.”

  “Got any?”

  I frowned. “Any what?”

  He shrugged. “Anything at all?”

  I opened and closed my mouth. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I get it. You want some first, right? No problem.” Then he made a dive for my crotch, pawing at my zipper with his fingers.

  “Whoa! What the hell?!” I shoved him back. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

  He almost looked hurt. “I thought…”

  “What?”

  “Just… thought you’d wanna get laid.” He half-smiled.

  “If I did,” I bit off each word, “I’d ask my girlfriend. Definitely not someone I’d just met, and certainly not a guy.”

  “Dude. Sorry.”

  “Why don’t you go home? Get yourself some clothes.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Sure.” He pushed himself up and climbed down the stairs, his fleshly backside looking ghostly in the pale light of the stairs. Puzzled, I followed him. At the bottom steps, he turned and walked outside.

  Someone near the door said. “Whoa. That guy’s like, totally naked.”

  I glanced in the speaker’s direction. He looked like a thirty year old punk with a scraggly beard and torn jeans. The girl beside him wore a mini skirt and a chamois, with a knitted cap on her head. She looked Asian. “Where’s he going?” she wondered.

  I looked back at the boy. He’d reached the sidewalk and had turned, shuffling down the street in his birthday suit. “Home,” I said. “Though he’ll probably wind up in the tank before long.”

  The Asian looked at me. “Who are you?”

  “Gerrold. Who are you?”

  She smiled in response and didn’t answer.

  “Anybody seen Mel?”

  She seemed to have perfected a blank look of innocent ignorance.

  “Look,” I said, “I don’t know how I got here—”

  “Join the club,” the guy muttered.

  “I just woke up in a room upstairs. I’m pretty sure I came in with a girl named Mel, and it’s very important that I find her again.”

  “Everybody’s looking for something,” the guy said. “Somebody to love.”

  The Asian turned to him with a smile and started kissing him. For the moment, at least, I’d been forgotten.

  I put my hands on my hips, took a deep breath and bellowed, “Hey! Anyone seen Melissa Cooper?”

  The couple stopped necking long enough to stare at me.

  “Mel Cooper,” I tried again. “Anyone at all?”

  “Gerrold!”

  I whipped my head around, stunned to see Melissa come through the door, her eyes wide, cradling a plastic bag.

  “Found her,” the guy sing-songed. “Love’s come calling.”

  “Shut it, Vic,” she said.

  Vic mumbled something incoherent, soon overtaken by the Asian’s affections.

  “Where’ve you been?” I demanded.

  “What are you doing out of bed? Randall told me you’d be out for another hour at least.”

  I shrugged. “I woke up. Half-naked. On a filthy mattress. In a locked room. Coming down the stairs I have nearly caught AIDS twice. Once from a dirty needle I almost stepped on in my bare feet, and once more from that naked kid who tried to service me on the stairs.”

  Mel blew out a frustrated breath. She came into the foyer and took me by the wrist, leading me into a living room where she sat me down on a couch covered in dubious stains. “I got you some shoes and socks,” she said, opening her bag. She pulled them out and deposited them in my lap.

  “Thanks,” I muttered and put them on.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Confused. A little disoriented. Maybe even a little angry.”

  “This place ain’t exactly your speed, is it?”

  I licked my lips. “I don’t think this place is anybody’s speed. This is where you come when you hit bottom and don’t wanna get back up again.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed tight.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Hiding.”

  “Okay. You wanna fill me in?”

  “You remember the tunnel?”

  I nodded.

  “Anything after that?”

  “Not much.”

  “Okay. I’ll start there.”

  Chapter 15

  Mel proceeded to relate to me all that happened since getting out of the tunnel. Evidently, my little dive out of the truck had earned me a set of broken ribs, along with all the other cuts and bruises I’d endured.

  Penniless, on the run, and in a stolen vehicle, Mel did the only thing that made a lick of sense. She drove us to an underpass where the homeless hung out, and with me languishing in the passenger seat, she asked around until she found the name of a doctor who wouldn’t ask questions. Randall. Through this man, she managed to get me patched up and then she drove south until she found her way here, where I’d spent the last three days recuperating upstairs in that room.