Page 30 of Devil's Due: Sarge

“Don’t worry, baby,” Sarge tries to reassure me, though it falls on deaf ears. How can I not worry? “It won’t last long,” he finishes.

With tears in my eyes, I step from the truck and sit on the crumbling pavement as directed, moving my hands behind my back and wait for him to cuff me, too.

“Can’t be too safe,” the deputy asshat says on a snicker.

It’s humiliating, all the cars passing us, seeing us cuffed and on the ground. I’m not totally sure he won’t try to plant something in the truck just to take us in. I wouldn’t put it past him because I’m not even sure cuffing us to search the vehicle is legal. Is this standard protocol?

He searches the large, black plastic tool box in the truck bed. Then he moves inside the cab, searching under the front seats and in the glove box. When he runs his hand between the top and bottom cushions of the back bench, I start to sweat. He’s getting awfully close to the latch. Now, the latch is black like the rest of the seat and fits flush with the rest of the seat.

Unbelievably, he attempts to wedge his hand down between the back of the truck and the top cushion but completely misses the latch which lies flat, blending in with the fabric. He misses it. My heart is pounding a million miles a minute and he missed the latch.

“Looks clean.” The deputy surprises me further. I swear I thought he’d plant something.

“Itisclean,” Sarge replies.

“Then why you only stay in long-term for fifteen minutes?”

“Because we took the wrong exit. We were trying to get out of the airport and I took the road thinking it would lead us out. Didn’t realize it was long-term parking until it was too late.”

“Please, sir,” I say and he looks at me as if he’s forgotten that he has me cuffed on the ground, too. “I really need to use the restroom.” And at this point, it’s not a lie. All the stress has gotten to me and I have to pee like a racehorse. There has to be something more to that saying. It doesn’t exactly make sense as is, at least not to me. But at this point I’m beyond thinking up any better metaphors.

For a moment, I’m not sure which way it’s going to go until thankfully, he releases me and finally he releases Sarge.

We’re back in the truck and safely on the road when I tell Sarge, “I wasn’t lying. I have to pee now.” He and I both glance in the rearview mirror to see if the deputy is still following us. He followed us for a few miles but apparently lost interest, seeing as he’s gone now.

As much as I’m not looking forward to seeing my family or Halfway again, I’m more than ready to put Oklahoma behind us. We make a quick pit stop at McDonald’s for me to do my business, and then head south for Texas.

The plan is to drive to the closest town to Halfway with a hotel and stay the night there in order for us to reach the Podunk town early.

Despite my unease about returning, I can’t wait for a change of scenery. The sceneryneverchanges: long, flat stretches of road. Before I can help myself, my mind drifts back to the conversation we had in bed about where he’d like to visit, and I realize that we’re not too far from either place right now. I suppose I’ll still go if he wants me to. Lord knows if we survive this, he’ll have earned it.

Even with truck stops a plenty in this part of the country, there’re no places to grab a quick bite to eat or fill up the truck when necessary along this road.

After the stress of the day, I could cry when we finally cross into Texas. This part of the country seems positively barren compared to the mountains thick with trees—especially the black walnut trees where we live—the forests practically full of them. They’re gorgeous, as are the other varieties, full of thick, green leaves. Going from Las Vegas to Miami, I’d never encountered forested mountains until I fled Southern Florida for my life.

Now, strangely, I miss it.

More hours pass and I’m far too nervous to engage him in much conversation. I really know I’m in Texas when I see a mountain lion dead on the side of the road.Only in Texas…

The sky begins to gray overhead and the wind picks up. It appears we’re driving headfirst into a major storm system. We’re certainly not disappointed when the first strikes of purple rods streak the sky. The thunder rumbles, and then, finally, the heavens open up. Sarge continues to push us straight ahead through a wall of water with the wind shaking the truck. It’s relentless. If we come upon another car, we wouldn’t know it until plowing into the rear end. The same for anyone coming up on our tail.

The change in weather causes a change in the plan that I never anticipated. An emergency alert siren breaks the silence of the cab. Sarge reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, looks at it a few seconds, and he shoves it at me.

“Check,” he commands. And I get right on it. When I pull it up, I see the app has been tracking our location, which most apps do, and I scroll.

“It’s warning us of severe thunderstorms,” I tease.

“Funny. It’s amazing how inaccurate these things are.” We both laugh softly because at this point, we need to.

As I keep on scrolling, I finally find the information we need. “The map is showing wall clouds and funnels.”

He whips his head to glare at me. “Where?”

“We keep on this road, they’ll be right on top of us. Oh—it’s warning of flash flooding, too.”

“How far from Halfway?”

I have to consult the map again seeing as the outside offers nothing in the way of visibility. “We’re more than halfway to Halfway.”

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