Page 8 of The Stranger
The footprints are deep and hurried, blurring together in places where he tripped or stumbled—signs of the fast, panicked way he’s traveling. Next to them, the thin trail of red specks paints the snow a brilliant shade of crimson. It’s obvious from the way the blood is splattered in thin lines appearing to get thinner that he’s running, trying to escape me, but it’s no use.
I could’ve told him that if he’d listened.
But they never do…
Each one always thinks they’re smarter than the last. Stronger than the ones who came before them. They always think they can get away or outsmart me, but they can’t.
When I eventually find him, he’s hiding next to a tree, cowering down like a puppy or small child waiting to be kicked. He’s bleeding from the last hit, a swing of my shovel from the trunk when he was least expecting it. I caught him off guard, but then again, perhaps he should’ve helped me load the vehicle. If he had, he might’ve asked why I was loading a shovel and no bags into the car.
He looks up at me with a quivering bottom lip, though whether it’s from fear or the cold, or a mix of both, I’m not totally sure. His hands go up, trying to shield himself from me.
“Please…” he whispers, trying to stand, his hand on the tree. “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to…” He’s too weak to finish the sentence, let alone stand. He’s lost too much blood from the stab wound in his stomach—the last thing I did before he began to run. He tried to call for help, too, I’m sure, but I waited until service dropped like I knew it would, like it always does through here. The blizzard just added to the problem—or, for me, the solution.
I raise the knife in my hands, my body buzzing with adrenaline over what I know is coming. This isn’t my favorite part—the teasing and the torturing will always claim that spot—but this is when it all ends.
And endings, I’ve come to learn, are just as satisfying.
CHAPTER FOUR
TIBBY
“Hey! Hey, wait up!” he shouts after me, rushing to keep up as I push open the door and step out into the icy night. The wind howls, whipping my hair in every direction while I trudge down the sidewalk. Ice crunches beneath my boots on the way to the car.
When we reach the parking lot, he picks up speed to cut me off. “Will you just hold on a minute, you stubborn ass?”
I stop in my tracks, a grin playing on my lips. “Did you just call me a stubborn ass?”
His eyes dance between mine, trying to read me. “Well, you are, aren’t you?”
“Proudly,” I confirm. “But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you calling me out on it.”
He sighs, a hand to his chest as he catches his breath. “I’m not saying I won’t go with you. I was just throwing out options. If you would just talk to me, we could make a joint decision.”
“I don’t need to talk to you, and our decisions shouldn’t be joint. My decision is made. You don’t feel safe, so clearly your decision is made, too. It’s honestly not a big deal. You got me so much farther already. I can make it the rest of the way.” I pat his chest, moving past him. “You’re off the hook, Walker.”
“The rest of the way to where?” he demands, turning around carefully on the icy lot to watch as I walk away. “Where are you even going?”
I glance over my shoulder, slowing down only slightly. “Carbondale, I guess. Or Marion. As soon as I’m in town, as soon as I have service or find a pay phone, I’ll call a friend and have her come pick me up.” I pause, turning to face him once more. “I’ll be okay. I dried off. I’m warm. I’m much safer now than I was before, so thank you. But I’m honestly going to be fine now. My friend will get me.”
He shakes his head, staring around at the snow as it whips past us. “And what if she can’t get out in this? You’ll be stranded and alone in the storm. Is that really what you want?”
“The roads will be clear in town.” It would be easy enough to stay here, obviously, but I can’t. I have to keep moving. I have to find a way to call…someone. Jess, maybe. Or my parents, though God knows what that phone call will be like.
“You know that for sure? Southern Illinois is a different world than Chicago. They don’t keep their roads clear here. The cities shut down over a dusting of snow. It’s not safe. And I don’t just mean the roads for us. I’m saying if something happens, I’m not sure the police or an ambulance could get to us either. We’d be totally stranded and alone and potentially hurt if we had a wreck. If the car was totaled, we’d be without heat. For hours, days maybe. It’s not safe,” he repeats slowly as if hoping I’ll comprehend.
“Well…” I cross my arms. He’s right. I don’t know this area. I only know it from passing through on my way to St. Louis or the two trips I’ve taken to Chicago with Craig, and I never paid much attention to these quiet little towns. “Okay, fine. What are you suggesting, then? We stay here and wait out the storm? What if the storm gets worse, and we’re stuck here for days?”
“That shouldn’t happen, but if it does, don’t you think it would be better to be here than there?”
I think about it for a moment. Staying in one place feels dangerous right now. Risky. But I do understand what he’s saying. Much like with the decision to ride with him in the first place, I have to weigh the options in my head and decide which carries the most hope. Here, we’re safe, but there’s no hope of making it farther. Of getting out. Of contacting anyone. If we try, at least there’s a chance. Right now, we haven’t even had any close calls. It still feels like it’s worth the risk to me.
“I can’t stay here, Walker. I’m sorry.”
He massages his forehead with both hands, wincing. When he drops them, he says, “Okay, fine. We can keep driving.” He checks over his shoulder, surveying the storm. “We just… We’ll have to take it slow.”
“Like we were before. We’ll be fine.”
He doesn’t seem so sure, but he uses his key fob to unlock the car anyway and pulls open his door. Back inside the vehicle, he turns on the heat. We sit and idle for a moment, giving the car a chance to warm up.