Page 36 of The Stranger

“And you, honey?” The woman stares at Walker in the rearview.

“I live in South Carolina. A tiny little town.” He runs a hand over his cheek. “But I have family on the Illinois side of St. Louis, which is where we’re heading.”

“How nice. Going home for the holidays, then?”

“Mm-hmm.” Walker barely seems present in the conversation—either incredibly stressed or lost in thought. Perhaps seeing Ernest’s body messed him up more than I realized at first. Neither of us could’ve prepared ourselves for that.

“We’re just passing through.” The woman reaches for the man’s hand, kissing it lightly. “It’s our honeymoon. Just got married.”

“Congratulations.” I force a smile.

She beams at the man in the seat beside her. “Thanks, doll. We were supposed to be going to Chicago to catch a flight for Aruba.”

“Sounds nice. Anywhere warmer than here sounds pretty amazing right about now.” I run a hand over the glass, tracing a pattern in the fog on the window.

“Would’ve been.” The man grunts, adjusting in his seat as he lights up a cigarette and cracks his window so that from the back seat, we’re getting pelted in the face with the smoke and cold air all at once. “If we weren’t stuck in this hellhole.”

“The storm came on fast,” I agree. I look over in the seat next to me, unsure why Walker is being so quiet.

He’s staring out the window, his head turned away from me.

“We pulled over to let it die off, but now that things have calmed down, we’re hoping to still make it to the airport. Do you want to go all the way to Chicago with us? Maybe you could catch a flight to St. Louis from there. Or would you rather I just stop at the next gas station and drop you off?”

“The next gas station will be fine.” Walker pulls out his phone, staring down at it. He opens the screen to his call log and tries to call 911 again. I hold my breath.

Call Failed

“If there is one,” he adds, locking his screen with a sigh. “I just need to find someplace with cell service or a landline we can use to call for help.”

“There should be a store or gas station once we get into town. I imagine most places have closed down from the storm, though.” She clicks her tongue as we near a city limit sign. “Oh, here we go. We’re coming into a town now, it looks like. Help me keep an eye out for a good place to drop you off.”

In almost perfect unison, Walker and I turn to look out our windows and search for not just a good place, but any place that seems open in the sleepy little town.

“Everything looks closed to me.” The man puffs out the last of his cigarette, tossing the butt out the window before rolling it up.

She sighs, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, that’s what I was worried about. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I don’t think there’s much here, but I’m sure we can find you kids someplace that’s open or that has a pay phone outside if nothing else.” She falls silent as we search for a place, driving past one closed store after another. With another deep breath, she adds, “Things sure were easier back in the days when there were pay phones on every corner. I know everyone loves their cell phones nowadays, but when something like this happens, look where it leaves us. No one has any way to contact anyone else. ”

The main street running through the town is a solid sheet of white. There are no lines to be seen and no other cars on the road. The traffic lights are out, blinking red, and every single place we pass has been shut down, either for the night or because of the storm. Either way, finding somewhere that’s open is beginning to feel impossible.

“Oh, dear. We might have better luck in another town. I don’t think it hit up north like it did here,” she says. “Will you guys be okay riding with us a little while longer? Just a few hours north, and things’ll be easier. The bigger cities all still seem to have pay phones and, with any luck, we could end up with enough cell phone service not to need it. Of course, that could be wishful thinking on my part. My daughter must be so worried?—”

“Wait!” Walker shouts suddenly, causing the woman to slam on her brakes. The car jerks forward, sliding rather than stopping, and she curses.

“Oh, shoot! Shoot! Sorry! I’m sorry!” Her hands fly up into the air as if she’s surrendering.

Panic seizes in my chest, my entire body rigid as I brace myself for impact. No. No. No. No. No.

“Pump the brakes!” the man shouts at her, reaching for the steering wheel.

“I am! I’m pumping, I’m pumping!” She snaps her hands back onto the steering wheel, eyes wide. Slowly, the car comes to a stop against a curb, and she lets out a loud sigh of relief. “Is everyone alright?” She whips her head around to look at us, and we nod. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her, running a hand along my body as if to assure us both. I glance over at Walker. “We’re both fine.”

She puffs out another sigh of relief, brushing her hair back from her face. “I really didn’t think we were going to stop.” Glancing in the rearview mirror, she eyes Walker. “You screamed, and I just panicked. Is everything alright? What was the matter?”

“There’s a pay phone,” Walker says, pointing to the store parking lot to our right. I follow his finger’s path, realizing he’s right. “I barely saw the sign in time. I didn’t want us to pass it.” He pats his pockets. “Does anyone have any change? I didn’t even think about looking for coins in my car before we left, and I never carry any in my wallet.”

The woman opens the center console. “I do. Tony, can you find them some quarters in here? I’m sure there are a few.”

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