A/N: So I found this on my computer, written May 2015. I was really surprised to find out that I hadn't uploaded it yet! I feel super bad! It's been sitting around on my computer for almost a year when it could have been up on here! I also noticed that tomorrow marks exactly one year since my last update. Yikes! I've been working on stories for my creative writing class so I got inspired to pick this up again. Hopefully I'll update it more than twice a year, though!
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry it's so short. I think next one will be longer. Here's to the budding romance (?) between Cat and John! I'm excited to see where these two go from here on. R&R! Much love xoxox
And as always, I don't own the movies, characters, dialogue, etc. I own my OCs, original text, etc. Have at it, loves!
There weren't too many times Cat actually thought she was going to die. She'd thought about how she would go out, sure, a few times but never was it actually a real threat that she had considered a whole lot. Like when she first went in a wave pool with her friends in high school and she found herself standing at the bottom of the pool, all of the water around her having been sucked back to the deepest part of the pool. When she turned around to see what had happened she was caught up in a large simulated wave that knocked her off of her feet and sent her sprawling through the chlorine pool towards the "beach" where several people watched but didn't offer a hand. When she resurfaced, sputtering and coughing, she knew that she was okay. The initial sight of that wave, though, made her believe she was going to drown and the water lodged in her ears, nose, and throat furthered that belief until she was handed a towel by a peer and dried off while standing far, far away from the water.
Another time was when she was learning to drive and her instructor told her to "turn off of this road" with a vague gesture towards a one-lane dirt path that led through an unknown part of town. She'd slowed the car and turned on the path, not knowing where they were going. About five minutes after turning on the path, she notice some dust being kicked up way ahead of her on the trail. After a moment she realized what it was: a huge truck barreling down the path right at her. There was no real place to get out of the way unless she wanted to run off of the road and into the small but thick brush. She was filled with fear as the truck advanced on her small car and her instructor grabbed her thigh and started shouting at her to "hurry up".
Cat didn't exactly understand what he meant at the time (turns out there was another small road that branched off the path she was on, and it was only a few yards ahead; if she had indeed hurried she would've been able to pull off of the road and avoid the truck). Instead, she slammed on the brakes, threw the car into reverse, and began a hazardous and speedy retreat back down the path the way she came. She was trying to keep an eye on the progress of the truck while making sure she stayed on the narrow road and didn't back into a tree.
Finally, the car backed out onto the main road and the instructor yanked on the steering wheel. The car spun to the side to get out of the way of the truck and Cat slammed on the brakes again. The truck came speeding off the dirt path and took a sharp turn onto the road, the driver oblivious to the peril he'd put Cat in and not even bothering to stop to make sure there was no oncoming traffic. Cat was nearly weeping and shaking in her seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. Luckily there hadn't been any oncoming traffic, so there wasn't any real consequence for her driving the car backwards down the path and right onto the road.
Terrified that she'd be kicked out of Driver's Ed, she meekly turned to her instructor who was just as pale-faced as she was. He just swallowed, and nodded lightly. "Well, you've got the backing up part down pretty well," was all he could say.
There'd been a few other instances where she thought maybe, maybe, she'd die but none of them as dramatic as those two memories, or what was currently happening to her. To be completely honest, the last few days had more life-or-death situations thrust upon her than all the rest of her life experience before that. If she thought the wave pool was bad, she'd hate to tell her younger self that she'd one day be kidnapped by a serial killer. Ironically enough, her current life-or-death situation involved another truck. Only she wasn't in a small car backing up down a dirt road while it came barreling at her without a care in the world. This time, she was sitting inside of it next to a truck driver named Anthony and the serial killer aforementioned. It seemed that recently, all of her near-death experiences happened around vehicles of some sort.
Right now she was sure that sometime in the next week or so she'd be dead. Whether she'd be found by U.S. police and sent back to her parents in a black body bag, or if she'd be dumped in an unmarked grave south of the border, she wasn't quite sure. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. All she knew was that she was very uncomfortable in her current position. The inside of the truck wasn't as spacious as it appeared from the outside. There were only two seats, one for the driver and one for a single passenger. She had to squeeze in the passenger seat with John. Since he was next to the door, there wasn't much wiggle room for him, so she ended up sitting on the edge of the seat. She kept her feet out to keep her balance and ended up having to lean against John so she wouldn't fall off. John took this opportunity to impress his "we're a couple" lie and kept an arm around Cat's shoulders. Every now and again he'd turn his head, press his nose against her temple and murmur something to her. She supposed it was supposed to appear to be some kind of lovey-dovey, couple thing but the words he said were anything but.
"If you tell him anything, I'll kill you too," he said softly against her hair, gently rubbing her bare shoulder. When he pulled away, he was smiling at her and it almost seemed genuine. "I mean it," he muttered; it could've meant anything. To Anthony, the driver, it was probably "I mean it – we'll make a life together, and America will be your home, and our kid will be born in the U.S., and you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known." Only John and Cat knew the truth and that caused her more anxiety than if Anthony had overheard them.
Sometime in the late afternoon, Anthony pulled into a truck stop and parked the semi. It shuddered as the engine died and he pushed open his door. Cat started to ask where they were but she clamped her mouth shut. John took over this duty and spoke up.
"Why are we stopping?"
"Get something to eat n' drink," Anthony said as he leaped out of the truck to the pavement below. "C'mon," he said, turning back to them. "We'll rest up and then get a move on." He slammed the door shut and headed for the restaurant across the parking lot. Cat turned to John and waited for him to say something. He looked out across the lot towards the building then back at Cat. He was thinking. Finally, he opened his own door and started to get out. Cat began to follow him, but he stopped and turned around sharply. He grabbed her face with one hand and squeezed it.
"You make a scene," he threatened, "and they'll be mopping up what's left of you."
Cat just nodded and whimpered when he squeezed her cheeks harder. He stared at her for a moment then cracked a smile. "Good girl." He let go of her face, jumped out of the truck, and turned around to help her down. He closed the door behind them and guided her towards the restaurant. Anthony was well ahead of them and wouldn't be able to hear her if she decided to talk. She glanced around to make sure they were alone and looked up at John.
"Why . . ." she began quietly. He looked down at her.
"Why what?"
She tried to find the right words – something that wouldn't make him angry. She honestly wasn't sure what would set him off or not. He seemed fond enough of her, but he kept switching between stroking her hair and nearly striking her across the face. Maybe he did like her, but he was frustrated – she was too stupid to figure out what to do without having to ask him every three seconds. And here, even, she had another question for him. Maybe she just talked too much. Still, she pressed on.
"You . . . You tricked me, and . . . and you decided to take me with you."
"Yeah."
"You brought me all the way out here –" she tripped over her own two feet and John caught her. Righting her, he ran his fingers along the strap of her tank top and turned his eyes to hers. "You brought me out here," she said in barely above a whisper, her voice getting caught in her throat. "You seem to want me out here, with you."
"I do."
"Th-then why?"
"Why what?" he asked again.
"Why do you keep threatening me? Why – Why do you keep telling me you'll kill me? I – I thought you wanted me out here with you. Why do you want to hurt me when you wanted to have me around? I don't understand."
John's eyes held hers for a while before traveling around the rest of her face. He couldn't help but smile. "I'm just establishing ground rules."
"Ground rules?"
"Yes, ground rules. You need to know that I'm serious. I want you out here with me, but I'm still in charge. I don't care how cute you are, you need to know that I won't take your sh -"
The sound of a rumbling engine drew them out of their conversation. Another semi-truck was slowly making its way across the parking lot towards them. John put an arm around Cat and helped her cross the lot towards the restaurant, out of the way of the truck. Once on the sidewalk, he looked back at her. She was still watching the semi circle back around and find a parking space.
"I'm serious; I want you here, but if you won't listen to me, then we'll have to part ways. I can't have any loose ends. You know that right? I don't let anyone live. If you choose to leave, we're going to have a problem."
Cat met his eyes and nodded. "I know."
John watched her for a while to make sure she really did understand, then smiled. He really did like her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Come on, let's go inside." As he started to walk them towards the door, she turned up to him.
"One more question – why . . . why did you choose me? Why did you let me live?"
John just looked down at her, still smiling. "Finder's keepers."
The waitress was extremely nice and seemed pretty fond of Cat when they arrived. She must've taken in her weary, hot appearance and felt a sort of compassion towards her – another young woman, tired from a day on the road, traveling with two men. She ushered them to a small table near a window and set down three menus for them. John sat on Cat's right and Anthony was across from them.
The waitress, named Cara, asked for their drink orders first and disappeared to get a glass of ice water, a coffee, and a Miller Lite. John stretched out his arms and wrapped one around Cat's shoulder, pulling her closer to him. He smiled at Anthony. "So, how much longer are we riding with you before you drop us?"
Anthony cracked his knuckles and shrugged. "I get pretty close to the border. If it ain't too far and we ain't too behind schedule, I can probably make an undocumented side trip down to the border and get ya there."
"Would you do that?"
"Sure. I mean, if I ain't running late for anything else."
"That'd be great." John squeezed Cat's shoulder and looked down at her. "You hear that? He can probably take us all the way to Mexico." She slowly turned to look up at him and he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. She meekly nodded but said nothing. He grinned and rubbed her bare arm, looking back up at Anthony. "She's just tired. They don't tell you how much energy it takes to carry a baby."
"Oh, right, yeah. How far along is she?"
John's mind raced to find an acceptable age for the unborn fetus that definitely wasn't currently in Cat's womb. She wasn't very thin, but she didn't have a pregnancy stomach. The little bit of fat that he could pinch between his fingers would only work if she wasn't very far along at all.
"One and a half, two months, I think."
"Ya think?" Anthony asked, smiling as the waitress set down his cup of coffee. "Thanks, hon."
She nodded and set down the water and beer on the table. For half a second she started to push the water glass towards John but paused in thought; John sat forward and slid the beer across the table to himself.
"Yeah," Anthony laughed, "don't wanna get those mixed up! You don't wanna be serving beer to a pregnant lady!"
"Oh!" Cara said in surprise, looking at Cat as she stood. "No, I wouldn't – I'm sorry, I wouldn't have . . ." She gave a sorry look to Cat, then she cast looks to Anthony and John. She didn't really want to guess which of these two men was the father of the poor young girl's unborn baby. But the way John had his hand on Cat and was giving Cara a dark look that said to keep her mouth shut, she guessed it was him. She gave a quick smile and apologized again before leaving.
Anthony yawned and held out his menu in front of his face. "Did either of ya decide what ya want to eat yet?"
John kept one arm around Cat while he flipped open his menu on the table and looked it over. "I'll probably just stick with the beer, thanks. You?" he looked to Cat. She opened her mouth to say something but he pinched her skin again and she just shook her head. "You need to eat something; it's not just you you're feeding anymore, you know."
Cat swallowed her response and just let John order for her. When the waitress returned, Anthony ordered some sort of hamburger; John ordered a breakfast dish for Cat and "another beer" for himself. It surprisingly wasn't very long before their food arrived and Cat ate under the leering side gaze of John while he made conversation with Anthony. It was hard to want to eat when she knew John was watching her every move, and his rough fingers on her skin made her sick. When she adjusted her position in the chair, he held onto her tightly.
She turned to protest, but thought better of it. She didn't know any Spanish, at least not enough of it to convince Anthony that she was from Mexico if she decided to open her mouth and talk. But she needed an excuse to get away from John, away from there. At least for the moment. She quickly spat out the only Spanish she really knew.
"El baño," she said, turning to look at John. He looked back at her, a bit surprised and a bit annoyed. "El baño," she repeated, pointing to her stomach.
"Are you feeling sick?" John asked, masking the amusement in his voice; so she was playing along after all. Cat nodded eagerly.
"Por favor," she said softly.
"All right," he said, gently releasing her arm and nodding towards a sign that read Restrooms. "They're back there. But come right back."
Cat nodded as she stood and made her way through the tables to the bathrooms. There were three stalls in the women's bathroom and she swiftly checked them to make sure they were empty. Satisfied that she was alone, she locked the bathroom door and began pacing. What was she going to do? There was no window here in the bathroom; she had hoped there would be. Then she could've made an escape. But it was just the three stalls, a small sink, a mirror, the trash can, a wall dispenser of paper towels, and a baby changing station. No means of escape. And John knew she was in here, so if he came looking for her she'd have no where to go. She was stuck.
Cat pushed open one stall door and sat down on the edge of the toilet. She really was feeling ill now. She didn't want to go to Mexico. She didn't want to go anywhere except home, but from the looks of it that would be impossible. It seemed like a cruel, ironic statement that she was in this bathroom. There, she had no way to escape. With John, there was no where to run to. She was stuck in a dim, windowless room from which there was no way out. John was a windowless room. She felt hopeless.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the bathroom door.
"Excuse me?" came a woman's voice. "Excuse me, is anyone in there? You're not supposed to lock this door. There are three stalls, you don't need to lock this door."
"U-Un momento!" Cat cried out, squeezing her hands together. "Un momento, por favor."
There was a moment of silence and then retreating footsteps. She sighed in relief and used a few squares of toilet paper to wipe off her face. This was too much. She never dreamed that one day she'd be locking herself in a gas station restaurant bathroom, speaking poor Spanish to a waitress while hiding from a serial killer that had kidnapped her. It seemed like a dream to her, only it was almost too comical to be a dream. The irony of it all. How many times had she been told not to talk to strangers? Not to trust bad men with candy? She'd been warned all of her life, and here she was – fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing, and it was her own fault.
She took a moment to catch her breath and wipe the corners of her eyes with the tissue. There came more knocking on the door.
"Un momento," she repeated, standing up. It was time; she couldn't stay locked in the bathroom forever. She walked to the sink and splashed cool water on her face, rubbing her eyes. When she looked in the mirror she was almost shocked at the face she saw. Her skin was darker from the hours she'd spent walking in the sun along the highway, her hair was already getting greasy, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were bright red and chapped. She cupped more cool water onto her face and into her mouth before patting down her skin with a paper towel.
The knocking came again, a bit more impatient this time.
"Si, si," Cat said weakly. She didn't know why she was still speaking Spanish, but it was almost comforting. Speaking a language she didn't entirely know, pretending to be someone she wasn't, it almost allowed her to distance herself from the situation. It was like she was watching a really bad movie from afar; a movie about a poor young lady who'd been taken hostage and forced to travel hundreds of miles away from home. When she glanced back into the mirror she really was convinced that it was someone else. She wasn't looking at herself, she was looking at whoever the Spanish-speaking girl John was traveling with was.
She unlocked the bathroom door and pulled it open. Standing there was John, staring down at her. The lighting shadowed his eyes and made his brow much more prominent. When he saw her, he just grinned. "You get lost or something?"
"No," She said meekly.
"You know you're not supposed to lock this door right?" he asked, knocking on the door with his knuckles.
She nodded.
"Okay. Good. Come on, your dinner's getting cold."
Defeated, Cat silently followed him back to the table and sat down. It was going to be a very long journey.
