AT

We've moved so much over the last few years that if I try and remember every apartment we lived in, I can only remember about 4. But every time, we've moved away from dad.

I don't see what's so bad about having him around. He spoils me, he's nice to me and he treats mom like a princess. Maybe she doesn't want to be a princess anymore. She told me her dad used to call her that, so I'm guessing she just wants to be normal for a while.

We're stuck in traffic and it's getting hot. I start to play my favourite car game-Find the out-of-state number plates. I'm trying to see all the state plates. I have 38 at the moment.

It takes about an hour and a half but we finally stop at a motel. It looks like the best one yet; the sign outside has all it letters still attached. We get a room and while mom sorts out the beds and has a shower I watch TV.

I wanna kick at the machine
That made you piss away your dreams
And tear at your defences
Till there's nothing there but me
You're angry when you're beautiful
Your love is such tease
I'm drowning in your dizzy noise
I wanna feel you scream

ST

It's the third night on the road and I'm getting tired. I'm tired of straight grey roads, I'm tired of crappy food and crappy beds, I'm tired of battling with Alex one minute and laughing the next.

I'm tired of being scared that Steve will catch up with us.

I had so many dreams when I was younger. I haven't achieved any of them- but I got pretty damn close. Okay, so I admit, having Alex wasn't in there but I wanted to be a doctor and live in a big city like New York. So what that I'm a nurse and I had to settle for Chicago: property prices were good there.

I'm nervous about seeing my family, especially Dad. He went back to mom just after I left for New Jersey when Alex is about 1, and I haven't really spoken to him. I stopped going for Christmas or Thanksgiving when he made it clear we weren't welcome unless we stayed in a motel. He said he was done with babies after Verity was born and Alex cried too loud.

We should arrive about 2pm tomorrow. Mom said Dad is going on a fishing trip for a week, but he hopes I'll stay so I can see him again.

I think mom added the end bit.

It's strange how I suddenly feel like a kid again. Returning to my parents after doing something naughty, except that 'something naughty' is right behind me and he's in a sulk again.

I'm 26, I'm a mother and I have my own apartment but the prospect of visiting my family has reduced me to sixteen again.

Alex sighs in his sleep and rolls over, getting very close to the edge of the bed. I decide to leave him and hope he doesn't roll off. I'm too tired to bother tonight really, my eyelids are drooping already. Scooping my curls into a messy bun I slip between the covers and switch off the lamp. Within minutes I'm off, dreaming.

AT

I yawn and roll over, stretching. And find myself in a tangle on the floor with a bump on my head. Great.

"Did you roll?" I hear mom ask, trying to hide the laughter.

"Yes I rolled. Now I have a bump on my head. It's huge!!!"

"Well, we better hope it's not concussion 'cause I was away the day we have the concussion lecture. I think you had colic that day. Or was it an ear infection?" Her smiling face appears over the side of the bed. "Come here, I'll check." She pulls my bangs back and looks at the bump, running her finger over it. "Think you're fine, just a bit bruised."

"Better not be concussion." I mumble, heading for the bathroom. Mom tuts and starts to get dressed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've sat for the last half an hour with my nose pressed up against the window, pulling faces at the kids in the car next to us. We've sat in a traffic jam for the last forty-five minutes with nothing but junior travel chess and half an egg sandwich. The rain is now bouncing off the road and I'm slightly worried we may have to swim to Gramma's.

Suddenly a man taps on our window.

"Excuse me Miss; sorry about the delay, there's been an accident. The paramedics are on their way so we'll get you moving soon."

"Really? Let me grab my coat. I'm an ER nurse, I can help."

The man smiles broadly and mom pulls her coat off the back seat and get out of the car. I'm left to pull faces at the kids again.

ST

I run in between the cars until I see the crash. It looks pretty bad, the policeman says 16 people were involved and I can see 5 walking around.

"Hi, I'm Sam Taggert. I'm an ER nurse in Chicago."

"Miss, help me. I can't find my daughter." A man in his late 30's dashes over, holding some gauze over a cut on his temple. I smile and peel back the gauze, checking the wound.

"That cut looks deep. You'll need it stitched."

"What I need is my daughter." He frowns then winces.

"Let me look at your cut and then I'll look for your daughter." I pull away the gauze, clean the wound and stick a dressing to his head. The minute I take my hands away from him, he rushes off. I suppose I'd be like that if Alex was missing.

I make my way over to a woman holding a small child. The lady has numerous cuts on her face, arms and what appears to be her torso if the amount of blood on her shirt is anything to go by. The little boy in her arms has a bruise on his cheek and looks sleepy.

"Hello, I'm Sam Taggert. I'm an ER nurse."

"Please help him. Don't let them find him." She shoves the boy into my arms and runs off. I stare after her in shock, wondering who on earth 'they' are, until the baby in my arms wriggles and begins to cry quietly. Realising he's getting soaking wet I unzip my jacket, move him under and zip it back up so his head is left poking out. There's nowhere I can put him so I keep him under my coat and head off to find more medical supplies.

"I need some more gauze, dressings and gurneys." The policeman hands me another bag of supplies and lets his eyes rest on the little head in my jacket. "A lady handed him to me, told me not to let 'them' find him and ran off. One of the officers pursued her; don't know whether he found her." The policeman nods but takes the baby from me, looking confused. I shake my head and laugh before heading off towards a car.

I peer in the window, searching for life. I can see children's toys and a pair of pink shoes but no people.

"Move away." The breath on my neck is hot yet it sends shivers down my spine. Suddenly I realise I can feel the cold butt of a gun prodded into my back and a large hand holding my arms to my side. "Come with me and I won't hurt you." He practically wrenches my arms from its socket as he pulls me around.

"Sam." I slowly look up into the face of the gunman and gasp. Steve peers down, his eyes bloodshot. I can smell alcohol and smoke on his breath and I realise he's stoned.

"What are you doing Steve?"

"Getting my son." Out the corner of my eye I see movement. Without jerking I swivel my head so I can see what's happening. Steve is pushing me to move behind the car parked on the shoulder but what scares me is the fact that one man has broken away from the crowd and is inching back through the traffic.

What does Steve mean 'getting my son'? If he's here then...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -