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We’ve got choices. We could disappear back into the woods behind the place. We could just stay here in the bathroom and hope he thinks we’ve run off, and wait till he drives away and then try and hitch a ride with someone else.

We could call a cab.

She giggles.

Come on. Be serious now.

Lightheaded, I know. That’s fatigue. But you can’t afford to blank out your brain. Not now. For Ellen’s sake …

She broods into the mirror. Holy Mother of God I look a fright.

I wish I had someone to pray to. I wish I believed.

She flashes on a long rainy high school afternoon: four girls earnestly reflecting why God, if he exists, should permit evil to prevail.

It all broke up over a rusty joke: “God isn’t dead. God exists-and She’s black.”

She washes her face with cold water, scrubbing at her skin. Must think. Must use my head.

If he’s called a cop or put in a call to Bert’s house …

She dries her face on paper towels and gently begins to wash the baby. “It’s not exactly the master bathroom, darling, but any port in a storm.”

There’s no more time for stalling. Got to make the decision. He’ll be coming outside any minute now and if he finds us gone he’s sure to raise the alarm.

What do you say, kid? Which way do we turn?

In a way it doesn’t matter. No matter what direction we choose, it’s a field mined with perils.

Listen: we’ve been taking ridiculous chances all day and all night. This is no time to stop.

Making the decision, she feels immediately lighter of foot. Ellen is no weight at all when she carries her out of the ladies’ room.

There’s a fat mustached cop just going into the men’s room. He glances at her, then goes inside without any evident show of interest. Eyes wide with shock she retreats quickly around behind the station and directly out across the dim asphalt to the rig.

By the time Doug Hershey returns to the truck with a take-out paper bag of hamburgers she’s back in the seat with the baby. She gives him as bright a smile as she can muster.

He settles down behind the wheel and hands her the bag. “You really worth twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“I’m not. She is.” The baby.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not now.” She’s found the warm milk. She’s feeding it carefully to Ellen. “Can we go now?”

He says, “You’re not heading for Baltimore, are you.”

“Not really, no.”

“Want to go west?”

“Salt Lake City? Portland?”

“Why not. I could use the company.” He’s switching things on, starting the engine. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the bed behind him. “You get done eating, climb back there and get some sleep. Time you wake up we’ll be past Cleveland. Oh-be careful with the shotgun up there. It’s loaded. Once in a while we run into hijackers. You can pass it down to me if you want.”

As he hauls the rig out across the apron she leans forward against the window to look back at the station and she sees the fat cop come out of the men’s room. She’s isn’t sure whether he sees her in the cab but the brim of his trooper hat turns to indicate at least a casual interest in the departing truck and she pulls back away from the glass with a feeling of numb tired fear.

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