Love Ahead: Expect Delays (9 page)

thought had been how furious Bubbie would be now that he’d bled all over the

steering wheel.

But all his thoughts thereafter were about Austin, who would be dead within

the hour.

Tears stung Zach’s eyes, but he kept his focus on the treacherous road ahead.

The look of shock and fear he’d seen in the rearview mirror as he’d driven away

from Austin would tear at his soul forever.

“Go faster,” Dave urged, jamming the barrel of the pistol against Zach’s neck.

“You don’t have to press harder, I hear you.” Zach sped up infinitesimally.

“You can have the car. I’ll get out. I won’t stop you.”

“I need you to drive,” Dave told him. He unwrapped his scarf and hat to reveal

a head of greasy brown curling hair, a pockmarked, scarred face, steel blue eyes, but

a large, surprisingly sweet smile that was at odds with the rest of his harsh

appearance.

“I can’t drive stick,” Dave told Zach. He laughed. “What a bitch, huh?”

Part of Zach hoped they’d end up stranded, because it would increase the

chances of Austin being able to catch up to them.

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57

But that was a ridiculous fantasy anyway, Zach chided himself. Austin was

dying from hypothermia. He was in a T-shirt in a blizzard. Zach choked back his

tears and focused on the road.

They passed a car going the other direction. Zach considered flashing his lights

for help but realized the driver would assume it meant some warning about road

conditions. Nothing about blinking lights in a blizzard suggested,
I’m being held at

gunpoint. Please alert the appropriate authorities.

“I could teach you how to drive stick,” Zach offered, but Dave poked the gun

hard against his neck.

“Just fucking drive!”

Zach flinched and stayed quiet for several minutes. Dave relaxed, and he

lowered the gun from Zach’s neck. “You got anything to eat in here? I’m starved.”

“Our food was already stolen by someone else,” Zach said bitterly.

Dave seemed to think this was pretty funny. He stretched out in the passenger

seat. Zach knew if he were a braver man, now would be the time to make a move—

punch the guy or swerve the car violently to knock Dave over and steal the gun.

But Zach was a land-use planner who liked sad Asian flicks, barbecue, and a

good book. He had no delusions of grandeur. He was not, nor would he ever be, an

action hero.

So he kept driving as Dave familiarized himself with their backseat

belongings. He sniffed at the empty chicken container, then tossed it back, heedless

of the grease he was no doubt spilling onto Bubbie’s seats.

“Where are we going?” Zach ventured. His voice shook.

“None of your fucking business,” Dave said. He stared out the front window,

grimacing. “You’re gonna take the Yellowstone Highway out of Casper, got it? To

fucking Bethany’s goddamned house.”

Zach didn’t ask for details. However, Dave wanted to share them.

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“Never trust a fucking woman, boy,” Dave told Zach. “They’re all lying

bitches.”

“Good to know,” Zach said shakily.

“And that bitch Bethany’s the queen fucking liar of them all.” Dave gave a half

cough, half chuckle, and for a moment Zach hoped he was dying, but he was just

clearing his throat. “Couldn’t wait two fucking years until I got out? That’s all I

asked. Two fucking years! And that son of a bitch Riley’s in her fucking shorts.”

Zach offered nothing in way of response. He started calculating what a man

might be imprisoned for two years for. Armed robbery? Assault? Probably not

murder. He felt slightly better.

Of course, that assumed Dave had been officially released from prison.

“I shoulda known with her. Girl like that, she’s destined to be a whore.”

“So why do you want to see her?” Zach asked.

“Because she’s going to fucking pay for cheating on me!” Dave yelled. “Nobody

fucks with me like that and gets away with it! I’ve dreamed of gutting her for

months now.”

Zach’s hands shook. He needed to be smart, not witty, or else he would end up

dead and would never be able to report Austin’s location to anyone.

As Dave continued to detail what he planned to do to his ex-girlfriend, Zach

realized this whole tragedy was his fault. Austin was freezing to death, alone in the

middle of nowhere, and it was because of him. It was his stupid idea to do this road

trip. Some consolation prize for Austin.
Not only do I not trust you enough to live

with you, I’m going to leave you to freeze to death in a ditch in Buttfuck, Wyoming
.

Zach wondered what it would feel like to freeze to death. Probably very terrible, he

decided.

Dave occasionally interrupted his diatribe on the evils of Bethany to describe

the generalized depravities of womankind. He’d turn to Zach for feedback but

continue on before Zach even had enough saliva in his bone-dry mouth to answer.

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59

At one point Dave asked Zach if he had ever been married, and when Zach croaked

a weak no, Dave seemed to think this a bonding moment. He let the gun go lax in

his hands as he launched into a fantasy of all the things his old best friend Riley

would feel before he died an excruciating death for sleeping with Dave’s girl.

Zach’s fear, after time, mellowed into an exhaustion. He didn’t have the energy

to be terrified on high alert much longer. And he found Dave’s monotonous revenge

soliloquy tiring, although he didn’t offer any critique.

Dave’s attention was distracted by the Star of David keychain dangling from

the glove-compartment lock.

“What’s this shit?” Dave asked, flicking it.

“Star of David,” Zach answered.

“What are you, a Jew?”

What amazing powers of deduction you have
, Zach nearly said but censored

himself by saying nothing.

Dave might have found women and Riley offensive, but apparently being

Jewish was okay. He shrugged. “My uncle’s a Jew. Rest of the family’s Swedish.”

“Oh yeah?” Zach offered neutrally.

“Hey, how many Swedes does it take to grease a combine?”

Zach’s fear nearly made him incapable of answering. “I don’t know.”

“Only two, if you run them through real slow.” Dave cackled at his joke.

Dave offered another. “Did you hear about the Swede who went ice fishing and

came back with ten pounds of ice?”

Zach laughed nervously, a sound that sounded a bit like crying with a smile.

Dave didn’t seem to mind.

Luckily, Zach knew a few racial jokes himself. “Did you hear about the Swede

who couldn’t eat spaghetti? He didn’t have long enough dishes.”

To his relief, Dave laughed. “That’s a good one, boy!”

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Astrid Amara

Zach nodded. “Or about the Swede who loved his wife so much he almost told

her?”

Dave smacked Zach on the side of the face. It stunned him and left him cowed

into silence.

“Not funny!” Dave yelled.

Zach cursed himself, only imagining what Austin would have made of this

repartee. Austin had told Zach he couldn’t joke his way out of every situation. And

boy was he painfully right.

Zach remained silent until they reached the outskirts of Casper. They passed a

sheriff’s patrol car. Zach racked his mind for ways to alert someone to his plight, but

nothing came to mind.

Thanks to the heavy application of deicer through the city, the interstate was

cleared substantially better than other segments of the highway. But they didn’t get

to enjoy the bare route for long, because Dave prodded Zach with the gun.

“Take that exit there, the US 20 bypass.”

The car fishtailed through a loose snowdrift, but it exited without crashing.

Zach kept looking behind him. Now that they were going off the interstate, there

would be no way for anyone to know where he was.

“We’re nearly out of gas,” Zach said quietly. He hoped they would stop

somewhere populated, where he could attract attention.

Dave grunted and leaned close to Zach to check the gauge. Zach felt an

overwhelming repulsion for the man and almost swerved the vehicle to push him

away.

“Do you want me to pull off at a gas station?” Zach asked hopefully.

“Not yet. Keep going.” Dave looked pissed.

They headed west on the bypass road until they hit the Old Yellowstone

Highway and curved north. Even with the gun and the terrible weather, this change

in direction scared Zach more than anything else. He was heading into the

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61

wilderness of Wyoming with an armed convict in a blizzard, and no one would know

where to even look for him.

As they hit a service road, the population of slow-moving vehicles increased,

and so did Dave’s attention to Zach. The gun resumed its position at Zach’s head.

“Nice and easy,” Dave told him. “Nothing fancy.”

“I don’t do fancy,” Zach reassured him.

Dave was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded at a truck stop. “Turn right.

We’ll get gas there.”

Zach obeyed orders, keenly aware of the gun as the car bounced over a pothole

and his hands were nearly jerked from the wheel. It would only take a slip of Dave’s

finger, and Zach would be either dead or spending the rest of his life with a feeding

tube, watching others eat without him.

The gas station appeared nearly buried as plows cleared the roadway and piled

filthy snow in front of the establishment. Zach bypassed the commercial fuel tanks

and stopped the car alongside one of the four car gas pumps. If he was planning on

escaping, now was the time. Anxiety coursed through him.

Dave took the keys from the ignition and put them in his pocket. “Give me

your credit card,” he demanded.

Zach fumbled for the wallet in his pocket. He handed Dave his card.

“You make a move, a sound, so much as a hand wave, I shoot you.” Dave got

out of the car and stood outside Zach’s window, processing the card, then facing him

as he filled the tank. The gun was visible, tucked within his belt, and he kept his

left hand close to it as he held the fuel pump in his right.

Terror nearly froze him, but Zach knew this would be the last chance he had

before they headed west on Highway 20 and to doomed Bethany. He slowly reached

into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He kept it low, under the dash, and

Dave didn’t seem to notice. He watched the other vehicles warily.

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Astrid Amara

Zach hit the number 2 button on his phone, which was programmed for

Austin’s mobile. He knew the chance of Austin still being alive to answer the call

was slim, but he had to try.

He heard the opening riff of “Back in Black” muffled somewhere in the

backseat and quickly hung up the call.

Zach glanced up to see if Dave noticed Austin’s phone ringing, but Dave was

still preoccupied with filling the tank. But then he glanced down and made eye

contact. He reached for the gun, and Zach stared straight ahead.

Fuck.
Why the hell had Austin chosen AC/DC as Zach’s ringtone?

Zach shook his head. That wasn’t important right now. What was more

pressing was the fact that Austin didn’t have his phone with him, which meant

there had been no way for him to get help. He had to be dead by now.

Before he lost his nerve completely, Zach dialed 911 on the cell, turned the

volume to low, and dropped it into the well under his seat.

* * *

rumbling along Interstate 25 at a slow but steady thirty miles per hour.

Austin had to speed to reach them, and the Lincoln didn’t have chains. Several

times the car slid, but he remained calm and avoided fishtailing his way out of each

slip. It was reckless driving that he’d never condone in any other circumstance. But

Zach’s life was in danger, and it was all Austin’s fault.

Austin slammed his palm against the steering wheel. What kind of fucking

idiot picked up a strange man on a highway at midnight? Austin’s confidence in his

strength was worth nothing against a loaded weapon. And now Zach was paying for

Austin’s stupidity.

When Austin finally spotted the Spectrum, he moved close enough to make

certain there were still two people in the car; then he backed far enough away to

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63

allow a sizable and safe gap between cars and to make sure Dave could only see

headlights and not the make of Austin’s vehicle.

They didn’t stop for over an hour. Austin’s gas tank was low, and there was a

chance he’d have to abandon the chase and pull over at a station to alert the

authorities if they didn’t fill up soon.

Luckily, shortly after they turned off I-25, the Spectrum pulled onto a service