Page 75 of Into the Dark, We Go
"Take a left, now!" Nick’s words snapped me out of my panic.
"Where?" I asked, already turning the wheel, blindly heeding his instructions. We were mere feet away from the oncoming car, its relentless signaling piercing the air.
Just as suddenly, the forest road appeared like a lifeline, almost invisible from the main road. It was a close call. We swerved, narrowly missing a tree. I brought the car to a halt and sat stock-still, still clenching the wheel.
"Everyone okay?" Nick asked, looking back. I turned to check on them as well. June’s eyes were like saucers, her face pale. Mitch opened the side door and carefully glanced back at the road. Dust motes danced in the air.
"I think they’re gone," he said, and I finally released my sweaty grip on the wheel. With stiff fingers, I fumbled to open the door, stepping into the cool air. The adrenaline coursing through my veins left me queasy, but thankfully, the nausea subsided quickly. I pretended to inspect the car, running my hands over the scratches and dents left by the hostile Jeep. The right taillight was broken.
"Fucking hillbillies," Nick said through his teeth, "Can’t stage a believable suicide and can’t organize a car crash."
"You think they were trying to kill us?" I asked.
"You think that was normal road rage?"
"Probably not," I agreed, still shaking.
This Caravan was a family car. It was intended for long drives to Florida, not for car chases. It didn’t deserve to be treated like this, nor did it sign up for such adventures.
"I don’t think they are coming for us, but let’s wait a few to be sure," said Mitchell.
"Why did they try to make us crash into that other car?" she asked, still doubtful. "Why didn’t they just follow us here to finish the job?"
"Maybe they were trying to scare us," Nick offered.
"So we’d leave?" I prayed we would.
"Are we going to?" June asked.
"We’ll leave town, for sure," Mitchell said.
"Are weleaving-leaving?" June didn’t seem ready to throw in the towel just yet.
"No, just leaving. These woods are giving me the heebie-jeebies." Mitchell looked back into the trees as we were loading into the car.
"Can someone else drive, please?" I asked plaintively. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving a heavy, draining sensation in my limbs.
"Sure thing." Mitchell took the driver’s seat.
We renteda room at a highway motel, the kind where no one checks IDs and guests come and go so frequently that blending in is effortless. The letters on the "Riverbend Inn" sign hung in tattered strips, and the floors were filthy, but the place had two advantages: its remote location and its cash payments.
Mitch insisted we get food first, so we walked in carrying bags of Chinese takeout. "Gotta fuel up after that adrenaline dump," he said. I didn’t know how he could eat after that car chase. I was still shaking, and it felt as though if I put anything in my stomach, it would come right back out.
We squeezed into a tiny room reeking of stale fabric and dust. The bathroom faucet dripped nonstop, but no one complained.
"It’s just for one night," Mitchell said, trying to reassure June, who hadn’t spoken since we arrived. She didn’t even seem to notice the stains on the covers.
"And then what?" Nick asked.
Mitch didn’t respond. His eyes had gone glassy, brows drawn tight like he was bracing for something. I half expected him to say we needed to leave before anything else went wrong.
"We should stay," Nick said instead. He glanced at each of us, then added, "Find that place. The one with the trees with eyes, or whatever Duane was talking about. Find the boy."
Mitch looked contemplative, his jaw shifted from side to side. A vertical line formed between his brows. He put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands.
June sat quietly, her gaze flicking between the two men as she held her fork upright, the tines pressed into the plastic plate as if it were a battlefield.
I thought about Nick’s mother, Duane, Sammy, Amanda, and Lucas, and what had happened to them, wondering whether there was anything we could still do.
