Sundown found them south of Toledo on I-75. Economically depressed bedroom communities serving the industrial towns along the westen edge of Lake Erie fell away from the highway on either side, rear yards backed up against the embankment leading up to the road, and mazes of cracked surface streets disappeared further inland. Tractor trailers on their way to distant ports blew past and cars with luggage racks on their roofs dotted the northbound lane, happy families on their way to vacation spots in Michigan, the UP, and Canada beyond. Every time Lynn spotted a state trooper, her shoulders tensed and her heart stopped beating until they were gone. The police in Ohio had no reason to be looking for them. Assault and incest were both crimes but not so serious that every cop in the country would be on the lookout for them. Even so, her stomach was a slithering mass of nerves and seeing a cop made her feel like she was going to puke.

Her phone buzzed in the console with a text. Mom, Lola, Lana, Lucy, and Lisa had been texting and calling nonstop asking where the hell they were and what was going on. Lincoln blocked all of their numbers and so had Lynn. How were they still texting?

She took her eyes off the road just long enough to check.

Lily.

Oh.

It's your mother. Where are you Lynn?

Slowing, she blocked Lily's number too.

In the passenger seat, Lincoln gazed absently out the window, his hands resting limply in his lap. Neither one had spoken much since leaving Royal Woods, and the only sound was the maddening hum of the tires on the pavement; Lynn tried to mask it with the radio, but music seemed somehow wrong. She kept replaying what happened and each time, it got harder to think about. She still couldn't believe it all: Dad finding them, the fight, running out in a rush with two blindly packed bags. None of it seemed real to her; it was like a nightmare, the kind of wake from gasping and panting for air, then thank God because it was only a dream. Lynn had been in several fights, and whether she won or lost, she was always drained and traumatized afterwards. Traumatized might be the wrong word, but it was all she could do: It was a spacy, surreal, staring state that she imagined soldiers felt as they came home from the front, numb and silent from the horrors they had endured and meted out. She recalled seeing soldiers like that in a movie once. They sat in the back of a troop transport, their faces white and their eyes vacant. They swayed with the motion of the truck like they weren't people at all but freight, unliving and unfeeling cargo.

That's how Lynn felt as night night fell over the flatlands of northern Ohio.

Her stomach rumbled.

At least that still worked. "I'm hungry," she said.

"Me too."

"Where do you wanna stop?"

Lincoln thought for a moment, then rubbed his eyes with his hand. "I don't really care."

A mile up, a green sign advertising fast food appeared on the right hand side of the road. Lynn saw McDonald's and Burger King. Either was fine with her.

She put on the turn signal, changed lanes, and took the next off-ramp. The Burger King sat high on a hill overlooking the interstate below. Lynn went through the drive-thru, ordered a couple Whoppers, and parked in a slot facing the freeway. She and Lincoln both opened their doors and ate in silence. Bugs danced in the stagnant air and the ceaseless night song of crickets and bullfrogs emanated from a stand of trees behind the building. Lynn occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror in case a cop pulled in, but all she saw were road weary travellers waiting in the drive-thru. A lanky boy who couldn't have been much older than Lincoln and dressed in a BK uniform shirt and visor came out the back door with a bulging bag of trash, tossed it into the dumpster, and then sparked a cigarette. Lynn shoved a fry into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "How much money do you have in your account?"

Lincoln took a bite of his burger, rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, and thought for a long time. "Couple hundred," he finally said.

Lynn nodded grimly. If she recalled correctly, she had just under three hundred in her own account. Her chest tightened with anxiety, but she perked up a little when she remembered that her next paycheck would be deposited into it the day after tomorrow. Next week, she'd get another one for the three days she had already worked this week. It wouldn't be much but it was something.

Picking up on what she was thinking, Lincoln asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Just get to Florida," she sighed.

"And then?"

She couldn't answer that. She imagined they'd live in the car or at a homeless shelter. If they were lucky, they would both find jobs and be able to save up for a place fairly quickly, even if said place was only a motel room. Lincoln was only sixteen, but he was legal to work. Their prospects really weren't that grim. They were young, healthy, and could do pretty much any kind of work that came their way. Things would be rough at first, but they could do it. They could really do it.

For the first time since leaving Royal Woods that afternoon, she felt a flicker of hope in her breast.

She explained her plan to Lincoln - vague though it was - and he listened intently, his burger forgotten in his lap. When she was done, he sighed. "Can we even do that? If we get jobs, they'll know we're wanted in Michigan."

"They probably won't," Lynn pointed out, "all they need to know is, like, if we're US citizens or not." She tried to project a confidence that she did not feel. Was he right? Would they be able to get jobs? What about help from the government? She didn't think they would be found out, but she didn't know. Being an outlaw was new to her.

Be that as it may, she had Lincoln to think about. She had to be strong for him, and part of being strong is knowing what you're talking about...or pretending you do so you can allay your boyfriend-brother's fears.

"What about background checks?" Lincoln asked.

Yeah, Lynn, what about background checks?

"A lot of places don't even do background checks," she said, as though she had had tons of jobs, and not just one. "They say that to weed out the people with serious crimes on their records. If you show up and don't mention anything, they figure you're clean."

Lincoln opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. "Okay," he said. He stared down at his hamburger and an uncertain frown traced his lips. "I'm kind of nervous." He looked up at her and flashed a tight smile. "But I'm also kind of excited."

"It's like an adventure," Lynn said honestly. It didn't feel that way at first, but now, with a full stomach and a little bit of optimism, it wasn't so bad.

"And we always did want to take a road trip together."

Lynn laughed. "I didn't mean like this."

"Eh. You gotta take what you can get."

After finishing their food, they both went inside to use the bathroom and walked around the parking lot to stretch their legs. On their way out, they stopped at a Chevron station across from the Burger King and loaded up on gas, drinks, and snacks. "Should we get a room?" Lincoln asked as they got back on the highway.

Lynn considered the idea but rejected it. "We really can't afford it. Just get some sleep and take over when I'm tired, okay?"

"Alright," Lincoln said.

While Lincoln crossed his arms and leaned his head against the window to try and get a little sleep, Lynn drove, hands tight on the wheel. Traffic had thinned out a little as they left the coast and the closest vehicle was a Mac truck about 300 yards ahead. Lynn checked her speed, realized she was over the limit, and let up on the gas. The Focus settled into a respectable (and legal) 65 MPH and Lynn glanced in the rearview mirror. A pair of headlights filled the night roughly 100 yards behind, but she couldn't tell what they belonged to.

Though it was early, Lincoln must have felt the same traumatized brain-drain that she did, for he was already snorting. She flashed back to what happened and her heart sank. He had it worse than she did. He punched his own father in the face. He didn't seem too broken up about it, but he wouldn't show her that unless he wanted her to see it. If he didn't, she would never know.

It was her fault, she realized. Everything that happened to them, to Lincoln, was because of her. She was the one who pursued him when they were kids. She was the one who insisted they play truth or dare with Margo. She was the one who couldn't keep her hands off his body, she was the one who escalated things...she was the one who went to him instead of forgetting what she and Margo did with him. She in effect ruined her baby brother's life because she was a pervert.

I am not a pervert.

Yes you are, Lynn, sit down and shut up. Only a pervert sucks her brother's dick, loves the taste, and then shoves a buttplug in her ass and fucks him.

She was the older of the two. She was the adult. She should have known better.

Maybe on some level she did, but went ahead anyway.

And that made her an even bigger piece of shit.

Those thoughts haunted her through the night. The interstate stayed flat and straight, forging over rivers and surface streets, and the reflective yellow lines began to blur after a while, making her eyes sting and her head ache. The buzz on the tires wormed its way into her skull and set her teeth on edge, so she turned the radio on and searched the band for something to listen to, finally settling for a station playing staticky country music. Lynn didn't normally like country music but the high, lonesome whine matched the environment - and her mood - so she left it. Lincoln starred and smacked his lips together, but did not wake. Lynn spared him a glance, and her heart swelled with love, but sorrow also. God, what were they doing? This was crazy. They couldn't just leave their lives behind like this. He was still in school...she had a job...they couldn't run away.

They had to go back.

No. They didn't. What was in Royal Woods for them? If she turned the car around, they wouldn't be going home, they'd be going to a cell at the regional jail. They had a chance at life in Florida. Their life in Royal Woods was shattered, and they would never be able to put the pieces back together again. Did she really think they could go back and pick up where they left off? She'd lose her job, Dad would kick her and Lincoln both out of the house, she'd do some sort of jail time, even if it wasn't much, and everyone would know she was a brother fucking freak. They would look at her - and Lincoln - like they were monsters. Mothers would clutch their children as they passed in the street and people would laugh behind their backs...or right to their faces. Lincoln would get picked on in school, if he ever got to go back to school, and…

Lynn cut those thoughts off because they were too painful to entertain. The point of the matter was this: They couldn't go back home.

Past midnight, Lynn pulled into a rest stop to use the bathroom. A tiny brick building with an arched roof sat back from the curb, drink and snack machines standing in the open air space at the structure's center. Lynn nudged Lincoln and he came awake with a snort. "Pee break," she said.

"Alright," he muttered. He sat up, stretched, and let out a yawn. "What time is it?"

"12:24," Lynn said, reading from the dashboard clock. "I'm going to have you take over when we're done."

Lincoln rolled his neck. "Alright."

They got out and went to the bathroom. The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air and the floor was still slick from its lst mopping, which couldn't have happened more than a half hour ago. The fluorescent lights flickered and the whoosh of air through the vents drowned out any noise. If someone came at her with ill intent, Lynn wouldn't know until they were right on top of her.

Graffiti covered the walls of the stall and a can of Twisted Tea floated in the toilet like a big, yellow turd. Lynn rolled her eyes and went to the next one. Why are people so fucking gross? There was a trash can right there. There was no reason whatsoever for that can to wind up in the toilet.

Ugh.

After peeing, she washed her hands and dried them on a wad of paper towels. Outside, she waited for Lincoln. Cars zipped by on the highway and bugs danced around a globe of light overhead. Spiders nested in the corners and Lynn shuddered at the thought of one dropping into her hair. There weren't many things that creeped her out, but spiders were one of them. Those long legs, beady little eyes...shudder.

Growing bored, Lynn wandered over to a rack on the wall and browsed the many brochures advertising local attractions. Huh, looks like she and Lincoln just missed the annual firefly festival in Ravenna. Shame. At least they could still hit Slausen's Roadside Tourist Attraction & Mannequin Museum. Ho boy, such wonders Ohio has to show you. She slipped a pamphlet for a waterpark in Cleveland out and scanned the back. Inside, pictures of happy families splashing in the water greeted her, and an inexplicable knife blade slashed through her guts. She closed it again and jammed it back into the rack. Where was Lincoln? He was taking too long. She should go knock.

Instead, she went over to a soda machine tucked into an alcove and studied the selection. There were drinks in the car, but grape soda, and grape soda would sure hit the spot right about now.

Did she have a dollar on her? She checked her pockets, found that she did, and put it in the machine. It hummed like an old CPU coming to life after a long slumber in someone's garage, and the bottle dropped into the tray with a thunk. She grabbed it and slowly opened it, letting the carbonation out a little at a time so it didn't overflow. She took a big, thirsty drink and sighed. Good stuff.

The door to the men's room opened and Lincoln came out. "About time," Lynn said.

"I had to take a shit," Lincoln said as they started back to the car.

"Nice," Lynn said, "liquid or solid?"

Lincoln sighed. "Liquid."

That elicited a chuckle from Lynn. "You gotta learn how to hold your greasy cheeseburgers better, Stinkcoln."

"Guess so," Lincoln said, "I don't eat many greasy roadside cheeseburgers."

Fast food was a delicacy that none of the Louds got very often. With a family as big as theirs, a simple trip to McDonald's could cost a hundred bucks.

Thinking of their family depressed Lynn.

Mom and Dad were furious...but what did her sisters think? Were they mad too? They really had no right to be, but maybe they were. They had to be grossed out.

In the car, Lincoln drove and Lynn sat in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped around her chest and her forehead pressed to the cool window glass. Music whispered from the speakers, the station beginning to fade and another with a stronger signal bleeding in, and the rocking movements of the car lulled her into a doze like state. The fight came back to her, dim and murky, and if she strained, she could make out Dad's angry face. The hiss of static morphed into a chorus of ghostly voices. Her forehead pinched and she stirred in an attempt to get away from the source of her fear.

From there, she bobbed in and out of sleep like a buoy. The road went on and on, endlessly leading into the darkness, and the radio wormed its way into her dreams. She saw Lincoln and herself as kids and her heart swelled, but her stomach knotted too, because she knew where it would lead and what their forbidden love would cost them. "No," she said, waking herself. She rubbed her grainy eyes and stretched as best she could.

"No what?" Lincoln asked. His face was bathed in the sickly green glow of the dashboard, and for one horrible second, Lynn thought he was dead.

"Nothing," she muttered. She crossed her arms and rested her head against the window. "I'm cold."

Lincoln reached over and turned the A/C off. "There."

"Thank you," Lynn muttered, already falling back asleep.

The night seemed to last forever. Lynn woke again and and again, shocked each time to find that it was still dark. She dreamed - or maybe imagined - that she and Lincoln were dead, killed in a car crash miles back, and that their punishment was to drive the nightbound roadways forever. Finally, the rim of the morning sun peaked over low, wooded mountains and the sky went from black to blue to pink. Lynn sat up, rubbed her eyes, and yawned. Lincoln drove with one hand and popped a handful of Skittles into his mouth. He glanced at her and smiled. "Morning," he said.

Lynn groaned. "You're awful perky."

He crushed the Skittles between his teeth. "I took some pep pills a few hours ago. I could stay up for years."

"Got any left?"

"Nope," he said, "I took them all."

"How many?"

He thought. "Forty or fifty."

'"Forty or fifty? Jesus, Lincoln, you're going to kill yourrself."

He laughed. "It wasn't that many. It was four." He glanced at her again. "You hungry?"

The grumbling of her stomach answered for her.

"Me too," he said and changed lanes.

The highway curved around the base of a hill in a meandering C-shape and crossed a wide river over a rusting green trestle bridge. A sign screamed WELCOME TO WEST VIRGINIA. WILD AND WONDERFUL. On the other side, Lincoln took the first off ramp and guided the Focus into the parking lot of a Waffle House along a set of train tracks. A line of cars passed on the rails at a crawl, and Lynn noted the graffiti splashed across their exteriors. Did they pick those marks up in some far flung port of call, or were there gangs and graffito artists right here in West by God Virginia?

Inside, the dining room was cramped and noisy. Truckers sat at the counter and traded war stories, the sizzle of cooking meat wafted through the order window, and soft country music played from a radio near the register. A woman in a pink uniform came over and flipped through a notepad. "Can I get y'all somethin' to drink?" she asked.

"Coffee," Lynn said.

"Me too," Lincoln added.

The woman jotted their order down, lips silently moving, then rushed away again, coming back a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. She sat one in front of Lincoln and the other in front of Lynn. "Y'all need a minute?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lynn said.

While the waitress went off to serve other patrons, Lynn and Lincoln looked at the menu, both settling on eggs, sausage, pancakes, and toast. As they waited, Lincoln asked, "What part of Florida should we go to?"

"I don't know," Lynn said. "Not Miami. It's too crazy down there."

"What about up north?" Lincoln asked. "In the swamps?"

Lynn crinkled her nose. "No. I wanna be near the beach."

"Which beach?" Lincoln asked. "You got the Gulf on one side and the Atlantic on the other."

Hmmm. "Atlantic," Lynn said.

Lincoln pulled out his phone and called up Google. "Is the beach all you care about?"

"I don't wanna be in the boondocks. I want to be close to things so we have more job opportunity. I also don't want to be in a crazy huge city where we can't walk outside after sundown without getting shot."

They decided to look up towns with "Beach" in the name. "What about Daytona Beach?" he asked. "They have beaches, a river, the speedway, Bike Week, and lots of places a guy and girl could get a job."

She took the phone and looked Daytona Beach up on Google Images. She saw white, sandy beaches, wavering palm trees, crystal blue water, and uber-modern skyscrapers - or what amounted to skyscrapers to a small town girl - lining the oceanfront.

It was beautiful.

"So?" Lincoln asked when she handed him the phone back.

"I like it," she said.

That, they decided, is where they would go.