Part 11 (1/2)
”It's a package of pads. Must've been Maria's time of the month. Or maybe she just likes to be prepared. These are just made to absorb blood. And we've got some duct tape.”
”Yeah,” Jack said unenthusiastically. ”Good thing you brought that along. Not embarra.s.sing at all to go around with pads duct taped to you.”
”Who are you really worried about impressing at this point?”
”I guess you're right.”
”Okay. Now let me fix you. Just focus on driving.”
Sam went about unwrapping one of the pads, unfolding it, and placing it on the gash in Jack's side.
”You might need to hold it right there for just a sec.”
”Got it,” Jack said, holding the pad in place.
Sam unspooled some duct tape and wrapped it around Jack's stomach. Jack was thankful for being virtually hairless.
”Too tight?” he asked.
”No. I think there's supposed to be some pressure in order to make the bleeding stop. Are you sure you're okay?”
”I'm not going to tape a bunch of pads to myself, if that's what you're trying to get me to do.”
”Fine.” Let me be the one with pads strapped to him.
Still no call. For the past few minutes, that was really all Jack could think about. As horrid as Mr. Grin's calls were, they at least let him know Gina was still alive. Mr. Grin could never call him again, he supposed, and the whole game might just end there. Would he be free to go to the police when the twenty-four hours were up? After knowing that Mr. Grin had some connection with the Alton police department, he didn't think he would ever feel comfortable calling 911 again. And he didn't think anything could be done with the FBI unless he first went through local law enforcement. Somehow, even if he went over their heads, he knew it would end up coming back to them.
”Hey,” Jack said. ”Before the crash, you were going to say something about that place with the tracks...”
”Oh, yeah, if I remember correctly, there is actually a hotel back there. A motel really. Just one of those places you can drive up to your door, you know? The kind of place preferred by prost.i.tutes and adulterers. A no-tell motel. Easy in. Easy out. Probably never asked for a driver's license or anything. But it's abandoned now. It's kind of creepy. And out in the middle of f.u.c.king nowhere. Still, though, I guess it should have probably been the first place I thought about when you mentioned a hotel.”
”Maybe that's where she is.”
”It's possible. We can get there from the tracks. We used to go there when we were in high school. Had some fine underage drinking parties there. It's off some out of the way road but I think we could just cut through the Wilds and get there.”
”The Wilds? Those are the woods on the other side of the tracks?”
”Yep. You're starting to learn your Alton geography, aren't you, Jack?”
”Reluctantly,” he said.
The car began demonstrating a disconcerting bucking effort and Jack slowed it down even more. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that this car didn't like to exert itself. Probably not much before the crash and definitely not after it.
”I feel like we should have some kind of weapon or something,” Jack said.
”Well, then I'm afraid it's time to thank friend Sam again,” Sam said, plopping the huge knife Maria had used between them, right next to the cell phone. Jack figured it probably came from the cafe.
”I didn't even see you pick that up.”
”Fat guy moves faster than light sometimes.”
”Sam, if I make it through this I'm gonna buy you an ice cream cone.”
”If we make it through this. She's my sister. I'm with you until the end.”
”That makes me feel very good to hear,” Jack said.
Then, out of nowhere, Sam said, ”Did she ever tell you she's adopted?”
Jack didn't know how to respond to that. It probably would have had more of an effect if there were not such extenuating, much more serious things to deal with. People were adopted all the time. Especially now that it seemed like more twelve-year-olds were having kids themselves, coupled with the reality that no one wanted to take responsibility for anything anymore and people who were found to have abortions were called names like 'murderer'. The fact she didn't tell him did something to him. Of course, she could have just been sensitive about the subject and if, in the long run, it didn't matter anyway, he guessed it wasn't really important. Or, maybe...
”Does she know?” he asked Sam.
A look of bafflement crossed Sam's face. ”I...” he stammered. ”I couldn't really tell you. Don't know if I've ever even thought about it. I know I've never talked to her about it and my parents didn't introduce her as 'Their adopted daughter, Gina, or anything. But... Well, I guess it's entirely possible she doesn't know. I was three when they found her so I know she was way too young...”
”Found her?”
”Yeah.”
”Like at the mall or something?”
”I couldn't tell you. One day she wasn't there. The next day there was this little baby and Mom said she was my new sister.”
”That's unbelievable.” Jack didn't know what else to say. Would he ask her about being adopted if he ever saw her again? Probably not.
”It's just something I thought maybe you should know. Probably doesn't make any difference but I guess it's best not to leave anything unsaid, huh?” Jack was going to agree with him but was stopped before beginning when Sam said, ”I think you can pull over any time now and we should be able to find it. 'When Two Worlds Collide,'” Sam mused. ”I never knew she called it that. That's a cool name for it, I guess.”
”Maybe it's even appropriate,” Jack said, easing the car over to the side of the road. He didn't have to bother turning off the ignition. It shuddered violently, hissed and threw up a pall of white steam before the engine stopped completely.
He opened his door and stepped out. Sam came out through his side, presumably so he wouldn't have to cut the duct tape away. With Sam's size and girth, the struggle would have been comical under any other circ.u.mstances. Standing there, Jack felt like they were an unlikely pair of heroes, if heroes were what they were to become. Jack was short, nearly anemic in his build. He held his cell phone like a weapon. Sam was nearly a foot taller than Jack and easily outweighed him by a hundred pounds. He held the large knife in his right hand. The roll of duct tape encircled his left wrist like a bracelet containing special powers. What kind of special powers? Jack wondered. Adhesiveness? Sam was covered in blood that had now gone kind of crusty brown. Jack thought he looked more like an escaped mental patient.
A meadow spread out before them, its gra.s.s yellowed.
He didn't feel nearly as cold as he had earlier, out trudging through the rain. It was like the weather had changed completely. The sun, although dying, peeked through the clouds. The air was much warmer and, because of the rains earlier, felt steamy. The beginnings of a thin ground fog covered the meadow.
At the back of the meadow, merely dark shapes on the horizon for now, were the two train engines, one with a cargo car still attached.
It hit Jack for the first time how extremely odd those trains were.
Twenty-one.
”It's so quiet out here,” Jack said. The road they had just pulled to the side of was a very narrow one. No yellow lines down the middle. No white lines on the sides. This was where the city saved their money. Not enough people traveled on this road to warrant the upkeep.
”Do you think someone owns all this?” Jack asked.
”Never really gave it much thought. I'm sure somebody somewhere owns it. I don't think there's any bit of property that isn't owned these days, is there?”