She has a premonition and it makes her hold the baby tighter.
It’s a feeling like ice on her spine.
He says, “I’m not a hundred percent sure you’re the right woman because the CB said she was blond. But there’s some guy in Plattsburgh offering twenty-five thousand dollars reward to anybody who turns you and that baby in.”
65 Dazzled by the lights she squints crankily and mutters, “Where are we?”
“Truck stop.”
The rig grinds to a halt with a hiss of air brakes. He switches everything off. The sudden lack of vibration becomes not merely a silence but a void.
The touch of his hand on her forearm. “You awake?”
“Yes.” Barely.
“You’d better not show your face in there. Anyhow you’re in no shape for it. I’ll bring some stuff out. What do you want besides aspirin?”
“I don’t know. Something to eat I guess. Maybe some warm milk for the baby.” She feels around the cab. “Where’s my handbag? I’ll give you some money.”
“Never mind. Pay me back later. Hamburger all right or are you a vegetarian?”
“A hamburger would be heaven right now. Make it two.”
He opens his door and climbs down. She can see his head and shoulders in silhouette. She’s trying to keep her eyes open; dazed, she tries to focus her attention on the very important thought that hovers just out of reach.
He says, “You’re just going to have to trust me, you know.”
Then the door closes with a soft click and he’s gone.
Groggily she rubs her eyes and begins to shake her head to clear it but the movement makes her aware of the headache.
She shifts to one side and sets the sleeping baby down on the seat beside her. Then she opens the door and steps down, hanging onto things, but still she slips once and abrades her shin. When she’s standing on solid ground she braces both arms against the truck and leans on them. Her head drops forward and she sucks in deep breaths.
Finally she reaches up and carefully lifts the baby down. Ellen’s eyes flutter and there’s a moment of recognition but then she drowses again.
“There must be a ladies’ room around here.”
Carrying the baby she wanders toward the station. Several trucks are parked beside it and there are a few cars out front, one of them getting filled up at the pumps. She sees the Men’s and Ladies’ signs hanging above unlit doors along the side of the station; she tries the knob of the Ladies’ but it’s locked and she scowls at it for a long time before she turns away and plods sturdily around into the office of the station.
The attendant is still out at the pumps serving his customer. From the wall she unhooks the restroom key with its huge wooden tag; she trudges back outside with the single-minded determination that comes with extreme exhaustion.
As she unlocks the door and goes inside she finally realizes what the thought was—the one that kept evading her in the truck.
Suppose he’s in there making a phone call?
66 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.
67 She wakes in strident alarm.
The baby is here—safe in the circle of her arm. But the truck isn’t moving. Where’s Doug?
When she sits up she bangs her head. She swears at the damn truck and ducks down to peer outside.
Turnpike service area. It’s hot and steamy. The ratty remains of her clothes are sticking to her.
He’s out there filling the tank, talking to another driver.
The baby wakes up and starts talking. Nobody else would be able to decipher it but she understands that Ellen is hungry. She finds the battered package and digs out one of the Gerber jars and feeds her.
She’s just finished changing the baby when Doug climbs into the cab. “Hi.”
“Where are we?”
“Near Rochester.”
“What time is it?”
“Two-thirty, something like that. Here.” He hands her the Thermos. “Fresh coffee.”
When they’re back on the road he says, “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
“What?”