“Had to make sure,” Donaldson said. “No offense.”
He tucked the gun behind the curve of her back and pushed her toward the Honda. “How the hell are we supposed to get inside?” he asked.
“Lift me.”
“Fuck you. Undo the goddamn cuffs.”
In the distance-sirens. Drawing closer.
“I don’t have the keys handy.”
“What?”
“We have to stay chained together. It’s the only way.”
Donaldson swore. “Open the damn door. You climb in first.”
“I can’t walk, you bastard! My legs are broken!”
Donaldson swore again. The sirens were loud now, a train of flashing blue and red lights tearing down the driveway to Blessed Crucifixion Hospital. “Unlock it, then tug it open,” he said. “I’ll lift you inside.”
Lucy fumbled with the keys, shoved the biggest one into the lock, and turned it. She pulled open the door and the interior lights cut on.
“Stick the keys in the ignition, then I’ll shove you over into the passenger side.”
“I need help”
Donaldson jammed the gun behind her back. Then, using his good hand, he hooked her under her armpit and heaved.
Lucy grabbed the steering wheel, hoisting herself up into the driver seat, landing on her chest. She twisted around, jamming the key into the ignition.
Donaldson wrapped his fingers around her thigh, then lifted and shoved.
Once her weight was off the wheelchair, it began to roll away-taking the gun with it.
“Goddamn it.”
Donaldson reached around, trying for the gun.
Lucy grabbed his bad arm.
“Give peace a chance,” she said, and jammed a needle into his swollen flesh alongside the many other holes.
Donaldson howled, his mouth opening so wide his gums began to bleed again.
“Sorry, no drugs in this one,” Lucy said, and then she pulled it out and stabbed him again.
His agony filled the car.
“This was my morphine IV. That’s for the ride down the stairs.”
She stabbed him once more. “And that’s for my foot. Now get us the fuck out of here.”
Donaldson plopped his bulky ass into the driver seat, the chassis bouncing on its shocks. He reached over, batting away the needle Lucy brandished, and locked his big hand around her slender throat.
As he squeezed, a squad car pulled into the lot, tires squealing, siren blaring.
“We…can have…our fun…later…” Lucy croaked, her eyes bugging out.
His entire body shaking, Donaldson released her.
Slammed the door.
Turned the key in the ignition.
Backed slowly out of the parking space.
He drove carefully past the squad car, obeying the rules of the road until they reached the end of the quarter-mile drive that T-boned the highway.
When the light flashed a protected green arrow, Donaldson hung a wide left through the intersection and accelerated into the night.
Soon they were doing sixty down the dark, country road.
Donaldson saw the flashing lights in the distance, approaching fast.
“Stay cool,” he said.
A line of squad cars blazed past-red and blues in full war paint.
“Nice driving,” Lucy said, clearing her throat.
Donaldson mumbled a thanks.
They drove in silence for several minutes, until Donaldson said, “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Goddamn nurse left the tank on empty. The reserve light is on.”
He flicked the gauge with a thumbnail. It bounced and dropped even lower.
“I’m sure there’s a gas station around here.”
“Even if there is, how we gonna work that little miracle? Pull forty bucks out of my ass? Goddamn it, I should’ve taken the bitch’s purse. Pain is fucking with my ability to think ahead.”
More road. More silence, broken only by Lucy’s and Donaldson’s occasional groans.
“How’s the foot?” Donaldson asked. No sarcasm in his question.
“You worried I’ll bleed to death?”
“Yes.”
“Awww, you’re sweet. After all I’ve gone through, this little thing won’t kill me.”
Donaldson barked a laugh.
Another brief silence ensued.
“So what’s the count, D?”
“Count?”
“What’s your number?”
“Oh.” He smiled. “That’s kind of a personal question.”
“Get over yourself.”
Donaldson glanced at her, and then back at the double yellow lines glowing under the headlights.
“Hundred and thirty.”
“Bull. Shit.”
“I been doing this a long time, little girl. Long enough to know we gotta ditch this car, pronto.”
“Every cop in the county is at the hospital right now. We got a few minutes.”
“The staties will be looking for us.”
“We’re on a goddamn deserted highway in the middle of nowhere, Donaldson. You see any staties?”
“You’re a little bit reckless, aren’t you?”
The night raced by at 55 mph.
Sagebrush, pinion, hills, darkness.
Winding road and blinking stars.
“Let me ask you something, D. Serious.”
“What?”
“You ever meet another one of us?”
Donaldson nodded, his double chin jiggling. “Yeah.”
“I met two once,” she said. “But that was years ago. You’re the first I’ve come across in a long time. Or at least, got to really talk to. There was this one guy I crossed paths with a couple years back. He picked me up outside of Death Valley. I suspected he was one of us, but I was jonesing pretty bad so I cut the conversation short. All the bullshit aside, I’m glad I met you. I mean that. It’s a lonely road out here.”
“You think getting all friendly with me is gonna stop me from killing you?”
Lucy turned her head, looking out the window at the dark trees rushing past. “No, but…lying in bed these last few days, I started thinking. It’s rare in this life to meet another person like yourself.” She glanced back at Donaldson. “You know what I’m saying?”
“Want me to go wake up the preacher, reserve the wedding chapel?”
For thirty seconds, the car was dead quiet.
No sound but the pavement humming under the tires.
Then Lucy released a quiet sob.
Donaldson glanced over, saw Lucy’s shoulders slumped and shaking.
“I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire life, Donaldson. I wanted to kill you. Shit. Most of me still does. You fucked up my legs so bad, no one’s ever going to want to pick me up again. But don’t you ever wish you had someone?”
“Someone? You mean like a wife?”
“No. I mean like…”
“Like? Spit it out already.”
“Someone to hunt with.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
Donaldson glanced over at Lucy. He took his hand off the wheel, touched her cheek.
“Holy shit. You’re really crying.”
Lucy shrugged off his hand. “Ever since I woke up in the hospital bed, these five words have been rattling around in my head, and I can’t make them go away.”
“If this is some kind of trick, I’m going to pull this car over, drag your crippled ass into the woods, grab the biggest stick I can find…”
Donaldson checked the review mirror, noticed a set of headlights half a mile back.
“Don’t you want to know what those five words are?”
“What?”
“The five words I’ve been thinking about.”
Donaldson sighed. “Fine. Sure.”
“Kill together or die alone.”
The road stretched on, black and empty.
The gas gauge dipped below the E.
“When I was a kid, my mom left,” Donaldson said. “Dad wasn’t so good at raising me. Tried to buy me pets to keep me out of trouble. But I’ve had these particular…ah… tastes…since I was young. None of my pets lasted too long. But there was one pet I didn’t kill on my own. When I was seven, my father bought me a pair of hermit crabs.”
“What were their names?” Lucy asked, sniffling.
“Names? Fuck if I remember. Doesn’t matter. Point I want to make is, one day, I wake up to look at the crabs, and one is pulling off the other one’s legs. And eating them. Fucking eating them. Turns out hermit crabs are cannibals. Put two of them in the same tank, they’ll kill and devour each other.”