I knew the Saab was about to go to pieces, but I also knew that reversing and going the wrong way up our side of the highway would be suicidally stupid. At best, we'd be playing chicken with the cars coming the right way. At worst, we'd be easy to find and ride down.
I took a deep breath and pulled the steering wheel to one side, cutting over the grassy median. The car shivered around me, the machinery under the hood grinding and choking. For an insane moment, I was sure that the wheels and undercarriage would somehow keep going forward and leave me, Rafe, and the rest of the car's frame behind like some old cartoon.
I took the first exit I saw and immediately looked for a connecting road that would lead to the back roads we'd traveled before. I couldn't think of anyplace left to go where we could possibly be safe, except for one.
I kept zigging and zagging up the back roads as I looked for the farmhouse we'd stopped at before. The noises from the car kept getting worse, and I was certain it would conk out at any moment—or worse, that a local would drive past us and call it in, and then a police car would creep up behind us and that would be the end of it.
But focusing on keeping the car out of sight along the back roads was the only thing I could think of to distract myself from the fact that I'd killed someone. And when I lost that focus for a second, I drifted back to that sharp little recoil in my hands and that bleeding hole in his chest and the look on his face as he knew everything was about to end...
Mercifully, at that moment, I saw the familiar field with the farmhouse and barn looming over it. I drove the car up the dirt driveway and parked it behind the house where we'd painted it before. When I disconnected the wires under the ignition slot, the Saab died with a rasp and a gurgle, and I knew no one would ever be able to get it working again. I was convinced that it had somehow held itself together just long enough to save our lives, and for that, I would always be extremely grateful.
I opened the back door and shook Rafe hard. “Rafe, you need to wake up,” I said.
His head moved slightly, and he grunted. I could see his eyes fluttering and struggling to open.
“Rafe,” I said, repeating his name to try to bring him out of it, “you have a bullet hole in your arm and you probably have a concussion. We're safe now, but you need to try to stay awake, and you need to stand up so I can help you inside. I brought us to the farmhouse. Remember the farmhouse?”
Rafe groaned, and this time his eyes did open. He squinted up at me, and when he tried to speak, the words came painfully slowly. “Farm...house? How...?”
“I drove us here,” I said. “I know you're tired, but you need to help me move you, okay? You're a big guy and I don't think I can carry you on my own.”
“Oh...kay...” he drawled. Slowly, he put his arms under him and pushed himself out of the back seat into a sitting position with his feet on the ground. “Fuck, my head is goddamn killing me. Just give me a second an' I'll get up.”
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you need. We'll get you inside, and I'll see what I can do about your arm, okay? We'll get you rested up, and hopefully, if it’s a concussion, it'll pass.”
“Uh-huh,” Rafe agreed, nodding. He looked very dazed, but it seemed like he was already starting to come back to himself. “Did you...find it? Did you get it?”
“I think I may have,” I said, “but I'm not really sure.” I dug the memory stick out of my leggings and held it up for him. “Do you have any idea what might be on this?”
He frowned at it, as though reminding himself what it was and what it was used for. Finally, he shook his head. “No idea,” he slurred. “Don't suppose they have an old computer in the barn we can hook up so we can take a look?”
I chuckled. “I doubt it,” I said, “but I promise, we'll think of something. We've come too far not to, right?”
Even through the agony, Rafe managed a smile. “Damn right,” he said. “Now come on. Let's put one foot in front of the other an' get ourselves inside.”
Chapter 28
Rafe
I didn't remember anything after passing out in the back of the Saab on I-94. Later, Jewel told me that I'd regained consciousness for a few minutes once we reached the farmhouse, and that I'd even talked to her before she brought me in.
But the concussion must have banged my brain around pretty badly, because the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor of the house's living room. I was naked from the waist up, with strips of thick cloth carefully wrapped around my bleeding arm. I groaned and Jewel hurried in from the next room, crouching down next to me.
“Good, you're awake,” she said. “Don't try to move. I did my best to keep you from passing out, but once you did, there wasn't much I could do to wake you up again. I was keeping my fingers crossed that you'd, y'know, shake it off somehow and wake up on your own. I'm not, uh, very good at first aid...”
The words were tumbling out of her mouth quickly and breathlessly, and I realized how scared she must have been. “Don't worry,” I croaked. “You did great. Better than I would've, probably.”
“We need to see how bad the concussion is,” she said. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up three.
“Jesus, Jewel, I'm just a biker,” I moaned. “You really think I can count that high?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed, lowering her hand. “At least the smartass portion of your brain seems undamaged.”
My head felt weirdly cold, and there was a steady drip trickling down the back of my neck. I reached up but Jewel took my hands in hers and lowered them. I didn't resist.
“Leave it,” she said gently. “I've been soaking strips of cloth in cold water from the pump outside and wrapping your head with them. I think I read somewhere that that's good for a head injury, to keep the swelling down and let things heal. I cleaned and wrapped the hole in your arm, too. It looks like the bullet went straight through, which is, um, probably good, even though the hole it made on the way out looks pretty scary.”
I looked down at the arm. She'd done a very good job with the bandage—tight enough to keep the wound covered, but not so tight that it'd cut off circulation. I was impressed.
“Where'd you get the cloth for the bandages?” I asked.
“I had to rip up your sweatshirt,” Jewel answered.
“Aw, man!” I said, forcing my lips into a smile. “And that was my favorite outfit, too. What a bummer.”
I hoped the joke would help her relax a little. Instead, she burst into tears.
“Hey, what's wrong?” I asked. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of the sweatshirt...”
“I had no idea what I was doing!” Jewel sniffled. “I just...I killed him, I pointed the gun at him and I...”
“You didn't have a choice,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “He was gonna kill both of us. You did what you had to do. That's nothing to feel bad about.”
“Of course there's something to feel bad about! I took a life! I killed someone and there's nothing I can ever do to take that back. And then I had to search his body and I didn't even know what I was looking for so I probably took the wrong thing and it's all been for nothing. And then the cops came and I had to drive the Saab the whole way here without being seen, and I was so scared that it would fall apart before it got us here or the cops would pull us over and arrest me for murder. And then I had to keep you awake so the concussion wouldn't get worse and I couldn't even do that because I can't do any of this! It's all too much, and I just can't!” Jewel collapsed into loud, heaving sobs.
When Jewel had freaked out in the motel room the first night, I'd been too busy trying to stay ahead of Jester to do anything but try to get her to shut up fast and answer my questions. But now that we'd been through so much, I genuinely felt bad for her and found myself wanting to comfort her.
None of this had been her fault. She'd shown a lot of trust in me so far. She’d done so much for me when she could have just run away and left me bleeding on the road to be picked up by the cops, and I felt like I owed her in return.
But comforting crying women wasn't exactly high on my list of skills. I had no idea what I was supposed to say or do to get her to calm down, and I couldn't bear to watch her hurting so much.
I sat up slowly, feeling the ache in my head and arm. I carefully scooted myself over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You can,” I assured her. “You know how I know? 'Cause you did. Most people in your position would have given up and gone over the edge two days ago, but not you. You're smart, you're brave, and when the shit goes bad and the fucking bullets start flying, you're one of the quickest, most resourceful people I've ever known. And I hang with bikers, okay? So I know what I'm talking about, here.”
Jewel wiped her tears away, looking at me with wet eyes. “You really mean that?”
“Of course I do,” I said, rubbing her neck and shoulder one-handed. It made the arm throb, but I needed my good arm to keep me propped up, especially since my vision still felt a bit dizzy around the edges.