Page 12 of The Hitchhikers
“Good night.” But Jenny didn’t go straight to the tent. She paused in front of Alice as though she was waiting for Alice to say something else. The seconds stretched. Alice’s heart was racing.Her muscles cramped. She wondered if she might be having a heart attack.
Jenny shifted her weight, gnawing on her bottom lip as she looked at the tent and then back at Alice. “Would we be able to borrow those pillows again?”
Right. Last night she’d treated them like guests.
“Of course.” She fetched the pillows, handed them to Jenny, and scurried back to the RV, tossing out a final, “Well, good night then!” over her shoulder.
Alice paced inside the RV. What was taking Tom so long? Finally, she heard his voice as he arrived back at the campsite with Simon.
She peeked out the window. They were putting out the fire. Their outlines turned to shadows. Then one shadow moved toward the tent and the other toward the RV.
Tom opened the door, and the RV filled with the scent of wood smoke. His wet hair was neatly combed, and he was carrying his shaving kit, with his towel around his neck.
“Lock the door!” Alice whispered urgently, and when he didn’t move fast enough, she reached past him and did it herself.
“What’s going on?” Tom looked confused as she began to close all the curtains, swishing them closed so fast she nearly tugged them off the rods.
“They’re wanted formurder!” She yanked the newspaper article out of her purse, unfolded it, and shoved it into his hands. “Look!”
When he saw the photos, a wave of red climbed his neck and into his face. “Jesus Christ.” He took a ragged breath and sat down at the dinette so hard that the RV rocked.
“We should leave.” Alice sat across from him. “We should just drive off.”
Tom was staring at the article, his eyes flicking side to side.He shook his head. “We’d have to unhook the RV—and the awning is out. They’d hear us.”
“Then one of us has to walk and see if the office has a pay phone.”
“We’ll go together. I don’t want you alone with them.” He got to his feet, opened the closet near the bed, and slid out a dark-walnut wooden case.
The handgun. She was relieved—then terrified. Tom knew how to shoot, but Simon might also have a gun. He could shoot them from the tent before Tom was able to fire back.
Tom took his key from his ring, opened the case, and lifted out the gun. She’d seen him clean and load the gun before, but it was more ominous now as she watched him pull the slide back, insert a loaded magazine, then pull the slide back again, and smoothly release it.
She felt like she needed to say something, but what? It was all happening so fast, danger and fear, spinning out of her grasp.
“Don’t do anything rash. If you get hurt—” Her voice broke, and she had to stop.
“I won’t.” Tom tucked the gun into his waistband, sat beside her, and then pulled her close with his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into his warmth.
“We’ll wait until they’re asleep, okay?” Tom said.
They turned off all the lights inside the RV except for the one above the stove, which cast a dim glow. Tom shook open their map and they sat at the table as he traced the highways with his finger. They found White Cliff—north of Vancouver. Simon hadn’t lied about that part.
“They must have boated up the river.” Tom tapped a spot on the map. “Remember when Simon said they’d slept on the beach? They were probably traveling at night.”
Alice thought back to when she first saw the couple walkingon the road, how tired they looked. Then when Jenny was in the bathroom. She’d feltsorryfor her.
They switched off the stove light so that Simon and Jenny wouldn’t see their silhouettes moving around in the RV. Tom and Alice sat close at the table, fingers entwined.
“It’s going to be okay,” Tom whispered, and Alice wished she could believe him, but he’d said the same thing when she’d gone into labor early, when he’d rushed her to the hospital.
Her legs were jittery, muscles vibrating like violin strings. She got to her feet a few times and pulled the corner of the curtain back, staring into the dark, at the quiet campsite and the barely visible triangle of the tent. Then she’d sit back down and grab Tom’s hand again. They talked about the couple. Each memory and conversation was suspect. Every interaction clouded. A suffocating dread settled onto Alice’s chest. She’d never felt the presence of evil before. Now it was only yards away.
When thirty minutes had passed, they slipped on their shoes, and Tom carefully opened the RV door and stepped out. Alice flinched at the creak of the metal stairs. Everything was so loud in the dark. She felt Tom’s fumbling touch as he reached back for her hand.
Alice set her feet on the steps, clinging to his hand, and held her breath until she heard the door softly click behind her. She looked at the tent. Tom tugged on her hand. He was moving them toward the road, passing the picnic table, the fire pit—the scent of charcoal still lingering in the air.
They were close to the entrance of the site when the unmistakable sharp zipping sound of the tent flap broke the silence. Tom stopped so abruptly she hit his back.
