Escape or Drown
The Devil’s Road — CHAPTER 04: TALL IN THE SADDLE
Welcome to Issue #11 of The Devil’s Road, a serial novel following the exploits of Samantha Hart, a Sequoyah County Sheriff, full of vengeance and fury using her badge to hunt down her sister's killer as she uncovers a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. If you missed it, you can read last week’s Chapter 4: Tall in the Saddle, Issue 01: Shadows of the Rope.
If you are new to the series, I recommend you check out Chapter 1 which you can read or listen to for free here:
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And now, please enjoy Chapter 4 Issue 2 of … The Devil’s Road.
In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.
There’s not much use in cleaning up after yourself when all you ever think about is escaping. At least, that’s how Heather always views her current situation. Needless to say, her little trailer reflects this dilemma. However, her girlfriend prefers things on the clean side, and if Heather is going to ask for what she needs from her, the current pungent aroma coming from the kitchen sink needs some attention.
The dark green duffle bag full of drugs sits on top of a purple plastic bin from Walmart that doubles as a coffee table in the tiny living area. The bag has a gravitational pull for Heather. She can’t help checking two or three times a minute to make sure it’s still where she left it. As she scrapes week-old melted cheese off a plate over the sink, her eyes stay fixated on the unzipped bag and the crystals inside. She knows she has to put it away.
Heather tosses the duffle on her unmade bed and returns to the kitchen. Dishes done, counters wiped, and then it’s on to the living room. When you live in four hundred square feet, you make compromises. She pulls her dirty clothes from under the couch and drops them in the kitchen sink, followed by a capful of detergent.
Mists of cleaner float in the air as she moves from surface to surface, removing a considerable layer of muck from all the nooks and crannies. She kicks open the screen door as she sweeps out the dust bunnies. The clothes in the sink get wrung out, and she takes them outside to a clothesline strung between her trailer and the neighbor’s. The sun is setting beyond the hills to the west, and she’s running out of time.
Despite her rush, she finds herself sitting on her bed again, staring at the open duffle bag full of meth. She’s even more surprised when she looks down to see a loaded pipe in her right hand and a lighter in her left. This is the part she promises herself would never happen again, she thinks as she puts the pipe in her mouth. She makes promises, promises she really wants to keep.
She holds the tip of the pipe between her teeth, chewing on the end and subconsciously flicking the lighter’s spin wheel, making sparks flit through the air. It would be so easy, and there’s so much—no one would ever know. She looks at the digital clock beside the bed. It’s 6:43 PM. Does she want to escape or drown?
Headlights wash over the bedroom window as a car pulls up.
Shit.
She tosses the pipe into the bag, zips it, and shoves it underneath the bed. Covers fly through the air as she wafts them up and floats them over the bed. She grabs the towel damp with cleaner and quickly wipes the bedside table.
The engine of the car outside dies, and Heather hears the driver’s door open and shut as she rushes back into the living room. She grabs a candle from on top of the refrigerator, places it on the “coffee table,” and lights it just as Madeline enters.
“Holy shit! You trying to get lucky tonight or what?” Madeline asks as she surveys the clean trailer. Heather grabs her around the waist, pulling her tight, resting her head on Madeline’s shoulder.
“Hey. You okay?” Madeline asks, concerned.
“Yeah. Just really happy you made it home,” Heather answers, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. She lingers there, lip to lip, breathing the same air, together.
When they separate, Madeline gives Heather a long look to make sure she’s really okay. This wouldn’t be the first time a lie crossed her girlfriend’s mouth, good intentions or not. When she’s satisfied, she lifts the bag she brought in with her, revealing the origins of the delicious aroma that now fills the room.
“Osso bucco and a bottle of Chianti okay for your special occasion?” Madeline says as she grabs a couple of dishes from the kitchen cabinet.
Heather smiles in return and nods. She joins Madeline in the kitchen to help prep dinner. Two Dixie cups filled nearly to the brim, and a plate full of braised lamb shanks and mashed potatoes sit between them as they raise their glasses.
“So, you win a scratch-off or something?” Madeline asks as she savors her first bite. Heather laughs at the idea. What’s a fifty-dollar scratch-off when you’ve got a quarter-million worth of drugs hiding under your mattress?
“No,” Heather says as she takes a long pull from her wine cup.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” Heather asks Madeline, who is very familiar with this conversation.
“Baby, I don’t want to play make-believe again tonight, okay? Let’s just enjoy what we’ve got here.” Madeline lets out an exhausted sigh and takes another forkful from their shared plate. Heather can’t help but giggle. She gets up and walks to the bedroom. When she comes back, she’s carrying the duffle bag.
“Open it,” Heather says as she places the duffle on the couch between them.
“What’s in it?” Madeline asks.
“An escape plan,” Heather tells her, leaning back on the couch, ready to see Madeline’s surprise and excitement at the immense luck they have stumbled into. Madeline unzips the bag and pulls the fabric back to see the baggies of white and bluish crystalline addict fuel inside.
Madeline can feel her teeth grind against each other as her jaw tightens. “Heather, where did you get this?”
“What’s it matter? I found it,” Heather says as she pulls out several of the bags and tosses them at Madeline, who does not seem excited nor amused at Heather’s antics.
Madeline uses every fiber in her being to remain calm when she tells Heather, “Wherever you found it, whoever you got it from, you need to give it back.”
“No, you don’t understand. I found it. It’s not anybody’s but ours. This is our freedom. Don’t you see?” Heather says, trying to calm Madeline.
“You haven’t…” Madeline can’t make herself finish the question.
Heather tosses the bag behind her and scoots in close to Madeline. The two fold into each other.
“I said never again, and I meant it. I found this at the truck stop. Somebody left it, or something, and I found it. Nobody saw me take it. We’re safe, I promise,” Heather tells her as she runs the back of her hand over Madeline’s cheek. Madeline’s face is fully exposed with her hair pulled up in a wrap, making it hard for her to hide the flash of heat filling her face. She’s afraid of what Heather will say next.
“Think we can take a trip into the city?” Heather asks.
“I don’t do that anymore either,” Madeline says as she pulls free from Heather. “Please don’t try to manipulate me with sex. I’m not one of your truckers.”
Heather stiffens. She thought this would go a little easier. Madeline was supposed to be excited that they were so lucky. She was supposed to say she wanted to run away to California like she always did. They could be rich and famous, sipping cocktails at the Beverly Hills Hotel by the pool, hanging out with movie stars and finally free from this steaming pile of horse shit that doubles as a tin box trailer in the dying prairie sun of the middle of nowhere Oklahoma!
“I’m sorry,” Heather says as she takes another forkful of osso bucco and pretends the comment didn’t sting her. Madeline grabs the baggies that Heather had thrown at her and puts them back in the duffle before she slides the zipper closed again. She takes the bag into the kitchen, opens the garbage lid to toss it in, but can’t.
“Heavy bag, isn’t it?” Heather says as she watches Madeline contemplating her next move. “I figure about ten kilos, all told,” she says as she takes another bite and washes it down with more Chianti. “What’s that run now, you think?”
“Three, maybe four hundred,” Madeline says, rolling the bag’s strap around in her hand to check the weight.
Heather walks over, hesitates, then gently places a hand around Madeline’s waist. She chooses her words carefully. “Do you still have that contact in the city?”
“I can probably only get two, maybe two fifty,” Madeline says as she leans back into Heather’s body.
Heather’s lips are nearly touching the skin of Madeline’s ear as she whispers to her, “We’ll get a convertible and drive the whole way with the top down, eat lobster and caviar, drink champagne, and fuck under thousand-dollar sheets on the top floor of the tallest goddamn hotel in the city of Los Angeles.”
Madeline turns around and looks into Heather’s eyes. She’s frightened, excited, and very turned on. The two begin to kiss. Madeline pulls at the buttons on Heather’s shorts, as Heather unbuttons Madeline’s blouse. Madeline’s hair wrap comes loose, and her long red hair spills over her naked shoulders. They move toward the bedroom, wrapped up in their desire for each other’s heat. The duffle bag sits on the kitchen floor. Dinner and wine are forgotten, and so is this prison.
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