Feed (12 page)

Her touch was cool, her skin soft. Why did she do it? He couldn’t say, for sure, but he let it be. Ramone was unused to loving gestures, though he’d been with Sue for so long. They didn’t display their love much. Things were comfortable. Until Blythe and this touch, this connection she was establishing in the midst of hell and high-water crashing against them, buffeting them along on a unknown course, Ramone would never have said he longed for a hand upon his like that. A pleasant almost absent-minded gesture that said, “I’m here. Don’t fret. All will be well.” A sob began to form between his ribs. He quashed it quickly. He wondered if he should reciprocate somehow, but didn’t, choosing to remain as still as a wild bird in a glade. That was reciprocation enough.

“Who are you?” Marci’s voice broke through the dark stillness between Ramone and Blythe. Snatching her hand away quickly, Blythe sat forward and stretched her shoulder-blades as though uncomfortable at being caught.

Ramone sighed. Why had they brought this straggler again?

“Where am I?” the girl went on. Ramone used Blythe’s bucket seat to help himself turn to face her.

“The middle of nowhere. With two strangers.”

“Ramone,” she said, rubbing a hand across her face. Out the back window, the sky was pink with a few thin clouds stretching across the peaks they’d traversed through the already visually redundant passes. “Sorry. I was dreaming.”

“Of course you were. You’re just lucky we’re not one of your frat boyfriends.” Her face was lined with a floral pattern from her luggage and her hair on that side stood up in a messy loop.

“I don’t hang out with frat boys,” she answered, digging a fingernail at the corner of her eye. Ramone turned and settled in his seat rather than watch. “Are we almost where-ever we’re going?”

“We don’t know,” Blythe answered.

“Wow, we’ve been driving all night, then? Are you tired yet, Blythe? Do you want me to take over for a while?”

“Thanks, but no.”

“You sure? I’m pretty rested now. I bet you’re tired.”

“I need to stay awake in case our guardian angel calls again with instructions.”

“I could answer your phone, you know,” Marci pressed.

“Really, it’s ok,” Blythe said, her voice turning firm.

“Fine.” It sounded sulky and Ramone turned enough to see the girl pull her slate out. He almost took it away, thinking of being tracked, before he remembered that they were most certainly being tracked. The girl using her slate could hardly matter.

Chapter 11

Ramone needs some clean clothing,
Blythe thought with a sigh as she pumped gas and stared in through the car window at his dirty pants. Bloodstains were sure to attract attention. His long fingers rested atop his thighs, some of the nails already dark with bruises. She bit her lower-lip. Still, his hands were beautiful. She wished . . .

No. Lifting her eyes, she studied the mining town littering the hills of the dusty, ugly mountain range. Where could they find clothing? A hardware store? Her own skirt and blouse had collected a layer of dirt from the wind that whipped around her face and pulled hair from the band at the nape of her neck. She licked her lips and tasted sand. The grit found its way between her teeth and she cringed, putting the nozzle back in the pump.

“Do you want anything?” she asked, leaning in the open door. The college girl was still inside the station.

“Just a coffee. Cream and sugar, please,” Ramone answered.

The gas station smelled of stale cleaning solution, though it was old and grimy, the white floor tiles black and peeling up at the corners. Blythe found two blueberry muffins and some bottles of orange juice.

“Hello.”

The voice at Blythe’s side startled her. “For the—please. Don’t sneak around like that,” Blythe hissed nearly dropping everything. “Hold this.” She loaded the groceries into Marci’s arms and filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee from a machine, leaving room for cream and sugar.

“Sorry. I can totally pay for this. My treat, please,” Marci said.

“No chance. I have no idea how much sugar he wants.” Blythe grabbed a handful of cream and sugar packets.

“Blythe, please. I want to pull my own weight. I mean, I just showed up out of nowhere, let me get it.”

“If you want to help, don’t be so conspicuous,” Blythe said, heading to the counter and ignoring the girl’s pleas. Blythe slapped her card onto the counter after taking the items out of Marci’s arms and placing them next to the cash register.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marci asked, sounding offended.

Blythe gave her an appraising look.

“What? My hair? My clothes?”

“Maybe you have an outfit that doesn’t scream prostitute? This is the state for it, of course, but if there’s any chance we’ve slipped under the radar, you’re going to undo all of it.”

“Wow. I mean, I can’t believe you just said that. Wow. You. Of all people.” The girl said, trying to pull her top down to cover her flat, tan stomach.

Blythe turned from the attendant, who was watching the interchange with wide eyes, and felt her blood running cold. She hoped her dispassionate irritation showed in her face as she stared at the girl.

“I’m sorry, Blythe,” the girl whispered, at least having sense enough to try to keep their conversation quiet. “I am. It’s just that I dress like all the girls my age.”

“I suspect you could find your way back home if I left you here. Ramone and I–” she cut off with a sigh and barely kept her eyes from sliding towards the attendant. Now he’d know. “We,” she corrected, “we don’t need you. The only reason you’re with us and not back there with that maniac is because of a few words from some stranger who insists that we need you.”

“Um. Alright, alright. Calm down. I might have a T-shirt in my suitcase. It’s my extra pajama top, but I’m sure I can wear it in the daytime too.” She tucked her hair behind an ear and looked around uncomfortably. Blythe turned back to the attendant, finished paying, took the bag of goods in one hand and the coffee in the other.

“Let’s go. You can change in the bathroom. Afterwards I’m going to find a change of clothes for Ramone. And me. I feel like a vagabond suddenly.” She headed for the door. Pushing it open with her backside, she caught a glimpse of the attendant lifting a slate closer to his face and tapping the screen in a rushed manner. She hadn’t noticed the slate before. Her stomach sank.

In the car, Ramone took the coffee with a quiet thank-you. “There’s a muffin, sugar, and cream in the bag for you. You shouldn’t drink coffee on an empty stomach.”

“Thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite,” he answered, opening a packet of cream and pouring it into the coffee. “This is so I can stay awake.”

Blythe sped away from the gas station, unable to resist a second glance in the rearview mirror. She half expected to see someone chasing after them. The police? Some delusional monster in a blue suit? Who? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to tell Ramone. What she wanted was to get him somewhere safe.
Where’s that?
Anywhere on God’s green earth, as her mother used to call it. But, was anywhere safe?

“I need a change of clothes, Ramone. And I’ll find you some too. What’s your size?”

“Blythe, um, sorry to interrupt, but didn’t you want me to change my clothes too? I thought I was going to do that back there, at that gas station?” Marci leaned forward between the seats. Didn’t the girl know how to put on a seatbelt?

“What’s wrong with your clothes?” Ramone asked, pressing the lid back on his coffee and trying not to spill it as they went over a pothole.

“Nothing, Ramone. She’s cold. Not used to this elevation,” Blythe answered before Marci could say anything. They exchanged a look in the rearview mirror. “You can change when we stop again, Marci.”

“Fine. Maybe I should get some other clothes too. Do you think we’ll be in the mountains when we arrive wherever we’re going? I didn’t exactly pack for that kind of weather.”

“Sit back and put on your seatbelt, please, Marci.” She caught the girl’s look as she flopped back into her seat, rolling her eyes and tossing her too-perfect hair. Even though she’d slept on it, it still managed to be shiny and fresh.

Ramone sipped his coffee carefully, glancing over his glasses at Blythe. “I, um,” he began, after putting the cup between his legs. “I don’t know my size. Sue always bought my clothes for me. She, uh, knew what I liked and what I didn’t like, and that was shopping.”

Blythe hid a smile and nodded. “You can wait in the car while I find something for you. And then we’ll find a spot where you can change. It’s probably best if you don’t go out in public much with your shirt like that.”

Ramone glanced down at his dress shirt. There were smudges of blood along the white sleeve. From the corner of her eye, Blythe saw his face blanch. She quickly touched his forearm.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to be fine, now.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, though he nodded. “What could they possibly do that’d be worse than what they’ve done?”

“I admire your nihilism. But there
are
worse things, I think, than what’s already been done,” Blythe said, trying to keep the admonishing tone out of her voice.

He became pensive and silent. His jaw firmed and he stared straight ahead. Blythe drew her hand away feeling rejected and placed it on the leather steering wheel.
It’s not a rejection,
she told herself. It’s a reaction to his feelings of impotence. Probably.

Quiet reigned in the vehicle. Shaking her head, Blythe realized she was rather tired of playing get-away driver. Not for Ramone, really, but for the lot of them. The girl she didn’t know and the entire situation. How long would they have to run? And were they even safe to stop and get a change of clothes? And shouldn’t they do something more about Ramone’s injuries? So far all they’d done—aside from the salves and ointments—was wash them with a bottle of water and some napkins. It was hardly enough. And when would their guardian angel call again?

“You should probably be sleeping,” Blythe said gently, her voice breaking the weighty silence in two.

“Thanks but I feel pretty rested at this point. All that sleep during the night.”

“I didn’t mean you. I meant Ramone,” Blythe said, unable to keep the cold tones out of her voice.

“Oh right,” the girl said, but Blythe was certain the girl was playing with her. There was a new attitude about her that hadn’t been there before. As though the dynamic was now confrontational where before, the girl had seemed to worship Blythe.

“I’m doing fine, thank-you,” Ramone said, avoiding her gaze. He continued to stare out the windshield, pretending to be enamored with the veritable shanty-town. Houses cluttered up and down the hills on either side of the road, dirty old pink insulation and building-wrap bare to the elements on many of them.

“It’s just,” Blythe began, uncertain how to address what he’d gone through with that sick man, “you know, what you endured. Before. There has to be more recovery time, Ramone, that’s all.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more and they drove on in silence.

*****

Blythe was a bitch, Marci realized now. How could she be so cruel? It was totally unlike her….or was it? How could Marci know for sure, anyway? Well, she thought she knew, thought she’d known Blythe from watching her on the feeds. Apparently people could be more complex than how they appeared.

It wasn’t like Marci didn’t understand that Blythe might be uncomfortable with Marci there. But couldn’t Blythe just give her the benefit of the doubt? If she hated Marci so bad anyway, why’d they let her come along?

Marci sighed and looked down at her outfit—a tight pink top that showed off her chest and stomach, and a jean mini-skirt. What was wrong with it? It was her traveling outfit. Comfortable. She didn’t dress any differently from the girls on campus. In fact, Marci doubted if anyone even noticed her half the time.

Well, obviously it bothered Blythe. And if they were going to be together much longer, Marci could at least appear to respect the older woman’s wishes.

“What are you doing?” Ramone asked, turning in his seat to face Marci.

“Opening my suitcase,” Marci answered, raising an eyebrow. 

“What’s in there?”

“My clothes…what people usually carry in their suitcases.” It sounded like a question. She couldn’t help it. Suddenly she wondered if, because of his inquisition, there was another use for suitcases that maybe she hadn’t heard of yet. 

His eyes flashed behind the lenses of his glasses. Marci felt her stomach turn somersaults beneath his scrutiny. 

Blythe glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just getting out a new outfit. I thought you wanted me to do that.”

“What’s wrong?” Blythe asked Ramone.

He turned back around and heaved a sigh loud enough for Marci to hear. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just on edge, I guess.”

Marci finished unzipping her suitcase, slowly, watching to make sure it didn’t bother Ramone. After rummaging through her things she pulled out a black T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts.

“What are you doing?”

This time it was Blythe.

“Just changing my clothes, no big deal, really.”

“Can’t you wait till I stop somewhere?”

“This is fine, really. I don’t mind.”

“Well some of us do, for hell’s sake.” Blythe’s eyes glared at her from the rearview mirror and Marci saw them harden, as though she wanted to annihilate Marci. Ramone didn’t turn around.

“Really, you make no sense, Blythe, you know that? All around us, thousands of cameras watching our every move and you think I ought to be worried about changing in the back seat of a car?” Marci pulled her top off and put the T-shirt on.

“You think that’s better? Honestly.” Blythe shook her head and hunched over the steering wheel, a tell-tale sign of a glower if Marci had ever seen one. 

“What’s wrong with it?” It was form fitting and one sleeve hung down off her shoulder, exposing her purple bra-strap. There was a faint diamond pattern on the shirt with alternating diamonds being almost sheer. 

Blythe didn’t answer. Instead she shook her head and closed her mouth tight into a thin line. As Marci was putting the shorts on, Blythe swerved quickly into the parking lot of a small ranch store, throwing Marci into the driver’s side passenger door.

Marci laughed and muttered a thank-you. If that infuriated Blythe, so much the better. So far Ramone had kept his eyes turned forward and, apparently, his ears plugged. Whatever Blythe was trying to do, Marci wouldn’t take the bait.

They parked at the end of a row of vehicles, most of them dusty beat-up trucks. They stood out like a cheetah among kittens, Marci noticed. If they were hoping to stay inconspicuous, Blythe would have a sore awakening driving a vehicle of that caliber in a town so noticeably poor.

“This will have to do,” she said, turning the Lexus off. “I didn’t see any department stores. They probably have at least
some
clothing here.”

Marci carefully folded the clothes she’d removed and ignored Blythe until the woman opened Marci’s door and said, “Coming?”

“No thanks. I’m all changed. I’ll wait here.” Blythe glowered at her before slamming the door shut, causing a gust of cool air to rush into the car and give Marci goose bumps.

The sudden silence startled Marci. It was thick and cold, like how she imagined a battlefield felt after the gunfire died down. She ought to be used to silences, really. Since joining them, there’d been a weighty silence almost every hour. The thought made her laugh quietly. Ramone lifted his head in response and if he’d been able to, Marci was sure he’d have checked on her in the rearview mirror.