Page 60 of Out of Sight

We crept forward the last hundred feet or so, stopping at the edge of a dirt road. It wasn’t just any dirt road: I could see Jim’s old Honda parked a little ways up. Against all odds, we made it back to the campsite.

“Should we make a break for it?” I asked.

“Maybe. It could take me a minute to hotwire the car and if Antonio is here waiting that's one minutetoo many.”

“Oh! I have the keys!” I unzipped them from my pocket, bringing them up with a little jingle.

“Great. Then we get the key ready, run as fast as we can, and lock the doors the second we’re in.”

“You drive,” I offered. “I’d have to waste time adjusting the seat to reach the pedals.”

He nodded and took the key ring from me, shifting the keys until he held the correct one at the ready.

“Wait! What if he sabotaged the car? He’s planted a bomb before,” I warned. I didn’t think of that possibility when I was alone, but with Will at my side I was decidedly more aware of the danger.

“I don’t see any other cars around and we can’t just keep walking forever,” he countered, but didn’t move from my side.

“So you think getting blown up will be worth the risk?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“If the car blows up then we’ll die together. It’ll be romantic.”

I rolled my eyes, but he had a point. About there not being any other options, not about the romance of dying together.

I shrugged. “What the hell.”

He met my eyes and I nodded. I was ready.

“One. Two. Three!”

His hand grabbed mine again, pulling me behind him, head darting back and forth to make sure no one was watching us.

We made it to the Honda without incident. Will let go of my hand to run ahead and peek in the backseat when we were close, opening the passenger-side door for me on his way around to his side of the car. We both hopped in our respective seats, slamming our doors behind us.

He shoved the key in the ignition and I smashed my fingers against the door-lock button. Will threw the car into drive, making a dust storm as we sped down the dirt road, exiting the campground.

“I can’t believe we actually made it out of there,” I said in disbelief.

“Same,” he said, eyes glued to the road, shoulders tense as he pressed down on the gas. “What’s the plan now?”

I reached into my back pocket for the business card Jim left for me, but the card was destroyed from my trip down the river.

“I don’t know. We could look up a local US Marshal office? We don’t really need to worry about a mole anymore since you were the mole all along.”

His eyes flicked to me, then back to the road.

“Unintentionally the mole,” I clarified, busying myself by checking out all the compartments. Hm, nothing interesting in the center console.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “We could do that. I could drive us into Portland and to a police station. They could look up a number for us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay. We’re shouldn’t be too far from the city.”

“Alright.”

Our silence hadn’t been so awkward since the days when we were first thrown together. I opened the glove box.

“Knife!” I announced triumphantly. It wasn’t some big scary knife with a handle, but a smaller folding emergency knife, like to cut your seatbelt if you got trapped in a car accident.

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