Mary pulled the door closed behind her and locked it almost in one motion. Even then she didn’t feel safe, though, and found herself eager to get out of there.
Ignoring the doors and drawers that had flown open during her abrupt stop, as well as the items now littering the floor, she tossed the flashlight on the passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel with more speed than grace.
Mary had left the RV engine running and now only had to shift into gear and hit the gas. An immediate clatter arose as the RV lurched forward and more items tumbled out of the open doors she’d neglected to close. There was also a loud thump as if Bailey had tumbled off of, or into, something and Mary glanced around with concern.
It was dark in the back of the RV, but she thought she spotted something moving in front of the closed bedroom door. It should have been open, but it had no doubt closed when she’d stopped abruptly, or perhaps that was the thump she’d heard when she’d hit the gas—the pocket door sliding closed.
“You okay, girl?” Mary asked as she swiveled her head forward again, her eyes shooting to the road, then each side mirror and the camera screen showing the rear-view as well. There was nothing but dark road highlighted by her headlights, and the view behind was all just black nothingness, but she relaxed a little when Bailey barked in answer to her question.
At least she hadn’t killed her dog careening off like that, she thought grimly, and immediately glanced to the rear camera view again with dissatisfaction.
Mary was quite sure she’d run over something back there and despite not finding anything, she didn’t feel right about driving off. Her search certainly hadn’t been a thorough one and she feared she might be leaving someone lying injured on the side of the road. Which didn’t make any sense. Whatever she’d hit should have been in the road, easily visible, not at the side or off hidden in the bushes. She’d run over whatever it was, not hit and sent it flying.
Her conscience was telling her she should reverse, go back out and make a proper search, but the idea of getting out of the RV again made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Something had spooked Bailey, and yes all right, she’d been spooked too, she acknowledged with a grimace.
Perhaps she could just call the police and have them send someone out to search the area properly. Although, they might demand she turn back and wait for them by the spot, she thought unhappily and didn’t even like the idea of waiting in the safety of the RV back there.
Good Lord, she was acting like a teenager left home alone for the first time, Mary thought with self-disgust and clenched her hands on the steering wheel, then released a little impatient hiss and reached for her cell phone, only to find that it was no longer in its holder. A quick glance toward the floor revealed absolutely nothing. She couldn’t even see her feet let alone the missing cell phone. Biting her lip, she briefly considered stopping, but then glanced once more to the rear camera screen and quickly changed her mind. She would wait until the first stop sign she reached, Mary decided. At the moment she wasn’t sure where exactly she was, other than the name of the road. If she waited until the next stop, she could check the street signs and give the police some idea of the nearest crossroad to the accident.
That thought made her glance down at the mileage gauge. She’d just keep track of how far she drove before she reached the stop sign and then could give the police the exact spot where they should be looking. Surely, that would be more helpful anyway?
Dante groaned and opened his eyes to peer at the edge of the built-in bed’s wooden base before him. He wished he had the strength to pull himself up off the floor and back onto the bed’s soft comfort, but was quite sure he couldn’t even manage that small task at this point. It seemed he’d used every last drop of strength he’d had getting himself into the RV and onto the bed he was now lying beside.
That was a shame. He hadn’t exactly landed in a comfortable position when the RV had surged forward and he’d rolled off the bed. His body had twisted and he now lay with his head and shoulders jammed between the base of the bed and one doorjamb, his feet caught between the bed and the other doorjamb, while his butt had fallen through the latched-open door of the bathroom to lie on the cold hard tile.
The discomfort of his position was an added irritation, the final straw that broke the camel’s back of the agony his wounds were causing him. Not surprising after being run over by an RV, he supposed, but that was perhaps the wrong description for what had happened. Dante had been racing through the woods when they’d suddenly given way around him. It had taken him a moment to realize he had come upon the side of a road and that he was about to crash into the side of a passing RV. There was no way the driver could have seen him, let alone stopped, and Dante had instinctively tried to stop himself, but instead managed to skid right under the wheels.