Chapter 7
I can’t believe we didn’t think of it ourselves. Texas is huge and sprawling and there’s miles of small backroads that link it all together. I’m so glad Toby gave Ethan the advice to ditch the interstate. It took us a while, but once we made it to that exit, we took off and didn’t look back. Driving on the backroads is a lot nicer, too. It’s getting dark and the sky is a soothing deep blue, and the roads stretch on forever with lots of empty space between them. It was getting stressful as hell to be sandwiched between dozens of cars on the highway. I felt claustrophobic. I think everyone else was feeling it, too. I especially feel bad for the families with little kids. If I’m going crazy and getting restless as an eighteen year old, I can’t even imagine how the little kids feel.
But now we’re free. The speed limit is only 40 on these backroads, but at least we’re moving. I’ve seen a few cars here and there, and some ass in a jacked up Chevy truck even blew past me and Ethan, driving way over the speed limit a while back. I guess he was in such a hurry to leave this place that he didn’t care about breaking the law.
And I’m pretty sure cops won’t care if we drive a little faster than normal, but Ethan keeps to the speed limit, so I do too.
I roll down my windows and let the warm summer air blow my hair all around, grateful to be moving again. My car almost feels it too, like she’s a living breathing vehicle again instead of a hot piece of metal stuck in a traffic jam.
I blast the music and take deep breaths and don’t think about the stupid hurricane we’re running away from. I think about me and Ethan. I think about how he held my hand in the diner and looked at me like he genuinely wanted to know what was making me feel bad.
Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe, once we’re at the hotel and we can relax, I can pour my heart out and let him know about my fears for our relationship. Maybe he’ll understand.
Maybe we can make it work.
We approach a four way stop sign and there’s three cars at each intersection. It’s the most cars I’ve seen in the hour we’ve been driving. I guess more people are getting the brilliant idea to take the long way by diverting off the main highways. Ethan stops, then lets the car to his right go, and then he pulls forward. I stop and wait my turn.
Only the silver SUV to my right is turning, and now they’re in front of me and behind Ethan. Ugh. I lean over and see his taillights just up ahead. We’re only one car apart but it feels like so much more. The road ahead of us is straight for as long as I can see, so we’ll be fine.
I sing along with the radio as another half an hour goes by. We reach another stop sign and the SUV turns, but we go straight. Finally! I speed up to get behind Ethan again, and although it’s pretty dark outside with no streetlights on these old back roads, I can make out the Ford emblem on his tailgate. I pick up my phone to call him, but there’s no signal out here. To my left and right, there’s nothing but wide open stretches of farmland. Occasionally, we’ll pass a house, but it’s rare. I put the phone back in the cupholder and turn up the radio.
Ethan had said it would take longer to get there with these backroads, but I don’t mind. It’s much better than being stuck in traffic. I lose track of how much time has gone by, and soon I see a little gas station on the side of the road. The storefront is old and western looking, and I’m betting that’s not even a design choice. It’s probably a billion years old. Next to it, ironically, is a beacon of civilization: a McDonald’s. There’s two gas pumps and a small streetlight at the stop sign in front of the gas station. I wonder if Ethan will want to stop here and get more gas. It wouldn’t be a bad idea.
I look up at his truck to see if he puts on his blinker. Illuminated by the streetlight overhead, the back of his truck looks blue … But Ethan’s truck is red. A bright shiny red that you can see from far away. I swallow as a lump rises in my throat. It’s no trick of the light. The Ford truck in front of me is blue.
This is not Ethan.
The truck stops at the stop sign and then rolls forward, leaving me idling in the road, my foot on the brake while I watch it drive further away. There are no other taillights in the distance. No other cars that could be Ethan. I’m completely alone.
I lost him.
I don’t know how much time passes with me sitting here on the road, but eventually I realize I should probably drive. My heart is pounding and my phone is still unable to find a signal.
This can’t be happening. The road is straight. It’s been straight forever. If Ethan had turned off somewhere, I would have seen it. I bite down hard on my lip and I press the gas pedal. He’s still on the road somewhere. I’m going to catch up to him.
I blow past the speed limit sign on the side of the road, watching the odometer on the old Corolla creep up to fifty and then sixty. I keep going. Seventy miles an hour feels like two hundred on these back roads. They’re small and there’s no shoulder and every little bump feels like a roller coaster, but I keep my foot on the pedal and I go as fast as I can.
I catch up with the fake Ethan in just a few minutes. The stupid blue Ford truck makes my blood boil. I can’t believe I followed it in the dark for so long and never even noticed that it wasn’t his truck. I give it more gas and swerve to the left, speeding around this truck. I don’t have time to follow him anymore. I need to find Ethan.
I watch the blue truck’s headlights get smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror. I don’t pass any more stores or landmarks, and we really are way out in the country right now. West Texas is pretty much nothing, which is crazy since Houston is such a huge city filled with so many people. Here I am in the same state, and I could scream bloody murder and no one would know.
My throat feels dry as the miles pass. I’m cruising at seventy-five, which is almost double the speed limit, and I still haven’t found Ethan’s truck yet. I haven’t passed a single intersection or road that wasn’t a driveway to a farm. He couldn’t have gone anywhere else.
An hour passes.
I still have no phone signal.
I still have no Ethan.
A yellow street sign catches my attention up ahead. It’s a triangle warning sign. I take my foot off the gas and let the car slow down enough so I can read it.
WARNING
ROAD ENDS
PRIVATE PROPERTY
What the hell? Sure enough, the asphalt fades away into gravel, and the road just comes to a stop up ahead. There’s a large metal gate blocking the driveway. So this is the end of a county road.
