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The ringing stopped, and I groaned as her recorded voice requested that I leave my name, number, and a brief message.
At the beep, I said, “Liz, it’s me, Jess. I’m coming out there on the first plane I can catch. It’s . . . it’s hard to explain. But call my cell as soon as you get this message.”
When I’d closed my bag, I quickly booted up my laptop and checked an online site for same-day flights to D.C. After that was squared away, I’d call Shelley and tell her I had to leave town because of a family emergency. The emergency part was true, anyway.
I stored my laptop and flash drive in their carrying case. Like Alexis, I intended to hold onto these items like grim death. I’d spent way too much time working on my novel to leave it behind.
I put my old Dodge into overdrive, rocketing down US 36 to get to the airport in time to inch through the security line.
As I snaked toward the TSA folks, I glanced about looking for the redhead and his taller companion. Surely, they couldn’t have followed me here. Could they? I checked my watch with OCD frequency, as the line crawled along. By the time I made it through the metal detector, I had 15 minutes to get to the gate.
Hastily re-tying my shoes and cramming cords and accessories back into my laptop case, I snatched up my purse, laptop, and carry-on bag and half-ran, half-stumbled toward the train that would take me to Concourse B. Luckily, I was able to leap aboard just before the doors closed.
I collapsed onto a seat, allowing my baggage to droop to each side, and tried to catch my breath, although the occasional snippets of carnival music they played on the train were hardly relaxing. As we rolled into the concourse, I checked my watch again. Nine minutes—yikes!
I lumbered out the door and onto the escalator, lugging my bag up the moving steps. “C’mon, c’mon.” I muttered my new mantra.
Once I reached the top, I hit the ground running. Caught sight of a clock—eight minutes! Could I make it?
Checking the gate numbers, I realized they were going up instead of down. Damn! Wrong direction, stupid.
Pulling a hasty U-turn, I pounded the other way, puffing like an asthmatic steam engine.
As I neared the gate, I veered right, negotiating a series of sharp turns through the rows of seating, toward a bottle-blonde flight attendant, who looked to be closing up her station and making ready to shut the door.
“Wait!” I cried in what must have sounded like intense pain.
The blonde stared at me, wide-eyed and blinking. Upon closer inspection, I could see her face had frequent flyer miles etched into it, but it couldn’t have looked more beautiful to me than at that moment.
“Oh, goodness.” She smiled. “Almost left withoutcha, dear.”
Her Midwestern twang was music to my ears.
I strapped myself into seat 15D and tucked my laptop and shoulder bag securely under the seat in front of me. I wanted to try Liz again, but they were already telling us to shut off our cell phones and portable devices. So I tuned out as the flight attendant droned through the usual safety preamble. I shut my eyes and didn’t open them until we’d reached an altitude of 35,000 feet.
Feeling more (if not completely) relaxed, I pulled out my laptop with intent to focus on Alexis’ story. So where was I? Oh, yes—the van had shown up at the motel and Swede and Alexis snuck out the window. And then? Well, they can’t just go to their car, can they? So I reviewed what I’d had them do instead. See if it still worked for me.
Alexis
Swede peeked out the motel’s bathroom window. “Nothing here,” he muttered to Alexis and opened it.
After they shimmied through it, Swede scanned the surroundings again.
“First thing we need to do is get some distance between us and this motel,” Swede said. Alexis nodded, then followed Swede across the dark, weedy courtyard, toward the woods behind the building. The rain had stopped, but their feet squished on damp, grassy earth. The clammy air held the sharp tang of evergreens.
“Got everything, right?” he asked, hefting his backpack and patting his pocket to check for his wallet.
Alexis went through a quick mental checklist--purse, laptop, and paper bag luggage. All present and accounted for.
“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s move out.”
Swede nodded, and together they plunged into the woods.
They wandered for a bit through the dank forest, brushing against tree limbs and getting spattered by droplets. The ground was slippery in spots and Alexis felt damp and feathery ferns tickle her calves. She pulled her hood over her head, but the chill penetrated her jacket.
Together, they circled (or, at least, Alexis hoped they were circling) back toward the highway, far enough from the motel so the van’s occupants wouldn’t notice.
It seemed like they wandered through the woods for a half hour, although it could have been only 10 minutes. Alexis couldn’t see her watch in the dark. They tromped in silence until she finally asked, “Are we heading toward the road or what?”
