Page 23 of The Hitchhikers
“I can’t.”
Simon was sweating profusely, his face red, and his hair flopping into his eyes as he stepped toward Alice, who tried to back up, but she wasn’t fast enough. His hand wrapped around her throat. Not squeezing, but tight enough that it was a clear warning.
“If you don’t hurry, a car is going to come by, then I’ll have to kill them too, and that’s going to be your fucking fault, get it?”
She nodded and he released her. She didn’t know if a car could see the back end of the RV if it drove past, and the road felt unused. More like a lane between farms. But it wasn’t a risk she wanted to take. She rubbed at her neck, still feeling the imprint of Simon’s hot hand.
He was watching her with a strange expression, like he was surprised by his actions but not ashamed. His hands were now clenched into fists, waiting for her next move.
Alice bent and grabbed one of the biker’s legs, her hands around his ankle. Simon picked up the other. The man was heavy, and they were both breathing hard as they dragged him out from under the RV. When the man’s torso and head came into view, Alice stopped moving, suddenly lightheaded, like she might pass out then and there.
His chest was crushed, nearly concave, and his T-shirt was ripped, exposing a hairy belly marked with black tire treads. Blood had leaked from his nose, mouth, and ears. His eyes were closed, his nose flattened. His face had been scraped across thedirt, showing raw, open skin. His arms, spread wide, were also mangled. A white bone stuck out of his bloody forearm.
Alice gagged and tried to catch her breath, but she could smell the blood. Metallic, like a dirty copper coin. Something else too. Urine. She retched again, her eyes watering.
“Hurry up!” Simon kicked at her leg, snapping her out of her shock.
Alice turned her face away from the body and continued dragging the man to the ditch, where a ravine dropped into a thicket of trees and shrubs. They lowered him at the edge, and then Simon pushed him over. The man’s body caught partway on a branch.
Simon pressed his hands to the side of his head. “Shit.” He looked up and down the road, before turning to Alice. “Climb down.” When she hesitated, he lifted the gun again, this time shoving it into her belly below her rib cage. She gasped at the sudden pain.
“Getmoving.”
Alice used roots and branches to clamber down the embankment. When she reached the man’s body, she closed her eyes and gave him a push. The body didn’t move at first, so she had to open her eyes, unfold his arm from where it had caught on a branch—she’d never forget the feel of his still-warm skin, the smell of him. Leather, cigarettes, stale beer, and campfire smoke. He’d been with friends the night before. He might have a family, wife, kids.
His body rolled a few more feet, coming to rest against a tree trunk. She peered up the embankment at Simon. She could barely see him through the brush. She looked around the ravine. Nothing but forest. How far could she get if she ran? Could she lead him into the bush? She’d still have to circle back to the RV, and he was likely faster than her.
“Toss branches on him,” Simon shouted down.
She gathered fallen pieces of brush, dried wood, and leaves, heaping them over the man like a blanket. She whispered a quick prayer. “I’m so sorry. I hope someone finds you.”
She climbed back out of the ravine, scraping her hands on rocks and roots, her lungs strangling in the dry air. She hadn’t had any water. She feared she might get sick. She collapsed onto her knees in the gravel and dirt, her head bowed as she tried to stop the spinning.
Simon was lifting the bike up from the ground. The handlebars were bent, one of the tires wobbled as he wheeled it to the edge. The saddlebags were still attached. He rummaged around in them, pulling out a wallet, which he shoved into his pocket. Then he gave the bike a push and it crashed down through bushes. Simon broke a branch off a tree and used it as a broom to smooth out the dirt, the blood trail, the drag marks. Then he walked around and picked up glass, pieces of metal, the rod that the biker had used, and threw them into the bushes too.
Alice got to her feet, slowly, and stood by the RV door, thinking about the morning that they’d left the first campground. When the bikers had been parked in the shade by the restroom.
Simon had finished and was walking back toward her now.
“You stole something from him,” Alice said. “That’s why he was chasing us.”
He just looked at her silently and rubbed his arm across his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt and blood. Alice stared at the crimson line. She hoped he saw it the next time he had to face himself in a mirror.
Simon pulled the door open, and she followed him up the steps.
Jenny was standing by the table and chewing on a fingernail. Her eyes went to Simon when he came inside and widened when she saw the blood.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“He was a bad guy who was going to hurt us.” Simon gently drew her hand away from her face. “I took care of it, babe. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Alice, stuck behind Simon, didn’t know where she was supposed to go, but she didn’t want to be part of this moment. She edged past Simon to check on Tom.
The rear of the RV was stifling. Tom’s shirt was damp, his face feverish looking. The bag of corn had completely thawed. In the time that they’d been parked, there’d been no air-conditioning, no way for him to cool down.
“Oh, Jesus.” She rushed to the kitchen. Did they have any ice left?
“What the hell are you doing?” Simon said.
