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“I’ll go with you,” Mitchell promised quietly. “Let’s just see what they say, and then I’ll keep my mouth shut if they say everything is fine. All right?”
“You know they aren’t going to say that,” Max said flatly, feeling tears sting his eyes. “You know as well as I do what they are going to say.”
“Then you know we need to get it looked at –today.”
The next morning, Max was being flown out to Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany – where they wanted to amputate his foot.
He refused.
3
DAPHNE
Somewhere west of Laramie, Wyoming
“C’mon baby… pleaaase,” Daphne whispered to her truck, begging it to limp along. The last few weeks had been beautiful, traveling where she wanted when she wanted, and camping out in her truck under the stars. Her only worries were gas, food, and where to go to the restroom or shower… until now.
Now, her truck’s check engine light was flashing, and it was sputtering like it was going to die on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. She could feel the front-end bucking and surging, just like her anxiety levels. It was almost dark, and she was on some country road not far from Interstate 80 that would take her to Salt Lake City.
And the truck died.
Daphne cursed fluidly since no one was around, letting out a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush. Popping the hood, she grabbed her big Maglite from the pocket of her driver’s door and got out. If someone tried to grab her, she could bash ‘em over the head with it, but the reason she got it was to look in the engine compartment.
“Like I know what I’m looking for,” she muttered angrily glaring inside the compartment. “Yup. Engine’s there, and I’m soooo completely screwed.”
Her bank account was dwindling, and she had been thinking about trying to get a job in Salt Lake City for a bit before continuing her travels. She really didn’t want to weather the winter up this way because it was already very brisk at night inside the cab of her vehicle and she really needed to eat or go to the bathroom.
“Baring it all on the side of a road, no matter how empty it is, is not what I would prefer to do,” she uttered, shaking her fist upward to the sky in frustration. “This is not funny, you know…” and saw headlights in the distance. “And now here come the serial killers. Well, just thank you very much for taking a bad situation and making it soooo much worse. ‘Preciate that, Big Fella.”
Sure enough, the vehicle was pulling over.
Daphne bolted back to the driver’s door, yanking it open and getting inside quickly before locking it. She had her Maglite in her hand and her gun in her purse, but still, she was pretty sure she couldn’t shoot anyone in self-defense.
Horrified, she saw two men getting out of the van and walking toward the truck. Their boots were crunching in the gravel as the sun was starting to fade slowly over the horizon. Coming to a stop directly next to her truck she stared straight ahead, terrified.
One was in camo, and the other was wearing a flannel shirt.Great, I’m going to end up raped and killed by Sergeant Pepper and Paul Bunyon,she thought despondently.
“Miss, do you need some help?”
“Nope.”
“She’s scared, Houghton. Heck, I would be too if you walked up on me – since when did you grow a beard, ya’ big hillbilly.”
“Logan, would you shut your pie-hole? I swear, man. You are the only jerk who could get away saying that to me, you know that?”
“It’s because I love ya’ man,” the other guy chuckled – causing Daphne to turn and look at the duo. They were in love? Maybe she was going to be okay after all?
“Miss,” the man in camouflage began gently. “My name is Logan, and this is Houghton, even if he looks like the Brawny-Quicker-Picker-Upper… and if you are having car troubles, we can take a peek for you.”
“I’m a medic, not a mechanic, you moron…”
“Houghton, I swear…”
“Miss, pop the hood and see if you can start the truck,” the man calling himself Houghton said quietly and pointed at the locked door. “You can stay here if you feel safe – just please don’t run me over.”
“Me neither,” Logan volunteered. “I’ve got a wife and kid at home, okay?”
“I don’t know,” the man with the beard joked looking at the man in camouflage that just called himself Logan. “Juliet might be grateful sometimes…”
