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We roll through mile after mile on the dark highway, headlights flashing in through the windshield at further and further intervals. I let go of the idea that he’s going to pull over early and start preparing myself for when he finally stops. That’s when I’ll have a chance, and I have to be ready.
But it’s a long drive, and the painted lines on the road are hypnotizing, and there’s only so long I can stare at the muscular line of his shoulders and wish he wasn’t so hot.
Eventually, he takes an exit. A country freeway. A right-hand turn.
It’s not unspoiled countryside, but there are lots of trees. Jameson steers down a long stretch of two-lane highway, takes another road. It was right off the highway, then right again, then…
Left?
If I escape, I’ll head toward the light pollution over Manhattan. I don’t need to keep track of the exact route. I can’t. I’ve lost track of it.
WhenI escape.
He takes a nondescript road, this one slightly rougher than the last. The tires thud-thudin an even pattern. My heart matches up with it, then races past.
I was okay as long as he was driving. It occupied his hands. I don’t know what his next move is, but I have to assume…
No. I can’t think like that. I can’t drive myself out of my mind thinking of the circumstances of my murder, close as they may be to becoming reality.
Jameson slows again and turns into a dirt driveway. Fir trees close over the top of the SUV, then open again. His headlights bounce over a tiny cabin. Is that a lake back there?
Doesn’t matter.
I make a conscious decision to let go of my bag. It will only weigh me down, and I can live without the things inside. Sweat slicks my palms. I only have one shot.
An old rap song from a movie soundtrack comes to mind, and God, I cannot do an escape thinking of old rap songs. I only know it by accident, since I strive to stick to classical music. One of my classmates at NYU played it in the cafeteria when we stopped for lunch, and everybody at the table sang along, and now this could be my last memory on earth.A rap song from a movie I’ve never seen!
Jameson stops near the cabin, takes the keys out of the ignition, and stretches.
I could lunge into the front seat and make my escape attempt now, but that would mean lunging into his lap.
Which I don’t want to do.
Do I?
Jesus. No.
He gets out of the SUV. I take a deep inhale, the way I do when my song is about to start at The Membership, and visualize running at top speed.
Jameson comes level with my door.
And goes past, to the trunk. He pops it open, and my stomach sinks to the dirt drive. This isextremelymurdery. I’ve done the research. I’ve read enough case summaries to know what happens on dirt driveways like this, at cabins like this, withmenlike this. You can’t escape it, even if you don’t like crime shows. They’re always about missing people who turn up dead, and I don’t need more reminders of what happens to missing people.
I’m not considered a missing person yet, officially. It’s too early for anyone to call the police.
The trunk closes. The change in the air pressure makes my ears pop.
Then he’s at my door again, reaching for the handle, and…
Go.
I roll down, close to the SUV as I can get, and duck under his elbow. Sensible flats, don’t fail me now. One foot on the dirt is all I need to launch myself into a sprint. I head for those trees bowing over the driveway, for the highway beyond, fresh air humid and cool in my lungs, heart pounding.
I’ve never been this strong. I’ve never been so certain that I’ve become that winged creature I imagine on the aerial hoop.
Five steps away. Seven. Nine. Eleven. God, if I can get to thirteen, if I can get to—
A pair of arms pluck me out of the air.
