Lynn and Lincoln Loud got into Daytona Beach at 3:45 that morning. The highway ran straight north and south and the world on either side was lost in darkness. The headlights washed across a reflective green sign reading DAYTONA BCH NEXT 3 EXITS and Lynn winced. She had been driving since she and Lincoln crossed into Georgia that afternoon and she felt like she was going to collapse from exhaustion. Lincoln snuggled up in the passenger seat and snored and the classic rock station Lynn had been listening to since Jacksonville was suddenly playing rap.

When she saw the sign, Lynn let out a sigh of relief and changed lanes. The off-ramp led to a surface street with nothing on either side but a few gas stations, a McDonald's, and a motel. A sign welcomed them to Ormond Beach. Dayona proper was a few miles away. "Lincoln," she said. When he didn't reply, she said his name again, louder. "We're here."

Lincoln sat up and scratched the back of his neck. "What time is it?"

"Almost four."

"I have to pee."

"Me too."

Lynn didn't know what she expected of Ormond Beach, but it looked somehow mundane in the streetlights. There were shopping centers anchored by grocery stores with strange names (Publix? Piggily-Wiggily? Wtf?), gas stations, banks, sidewalks, and homeless people pushing shopping carts. It looked a whole lot like Michigan but with palm trees. Oh, wait, the street signs affixed to the traffic lights all glowed so that you could clearly make them out. That was kind of cool.

They fumbled their way along a disorienting maze of unfamiliar, night-shrouded streets before coming to another motel...or "motor lodge" as the sign out front proclaimed. Lynn had no idea where they were or how to get back to the highway, but she did know this: She was fucking tired. She and Linc didn't have lot of money to spend, but fuck it, she wanted a hot shower, crisp sheets, and an actual bed to sleep in.

She swung the Focus into the parking lot and parked in front of the office. "We're getting a room," she grumbled guiltily.

"Good," Lincoln said, "I'm sick of being in the car."

Lynn got out and went into the office. An old man in a plaid shirt sat behind the counter perusing a magazine. Field and Stream, it said over a picture of a grizzly bear. She paid with her debit card, collected the key, and drove across the parking lot to the room. She killed the engine and they got out, grabbing their bags from the back.

After the car, the room was spacious and inviting, its wood paneled walls and thick green carpeting putting Lynn in mind of the seventies even though she didn't know squat about the seventies. A single bed faced a television and a table and chair set sat by the heavily curtained window. Lynn dropped her bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed with a groan. Lincoln tossed his bag onto the bed, used the bathroom, and came out, kicking his shoes off. "I never though I'd be so happy to see a bed," he said and stretched out on top of the blanket.

"Yeah," Lynn said and yawned. "I want a shower." She looked over her shoulder. "You?"

The water was hot and felt good against Lynn's skin. Lincoln waited behind her, his arms crossed. They were too tired to fool around, and they kept their hands to themselves, each taking turns under the spray and washing their own body. Lynn got out first and dried off while Lincoln finished up. She put on a pair of underwear and a clean white shirt. Checking her bag for the first time since throwing it together in another life, she realized she had only one pair of socks. In the heat of the moment, she didn't worry too much about what she was packing, but now it mattered. She'd have to buy some more from the dollar store.

Lincoln came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and sat at the table, head tossed back. He closely resembled a man dying in the electric chair. "I'm ready for bed," he yawned.

"Me too."

They turned the bedside lamp off and cuddled under the blanket. Lynn had just enough time to realize that this was the first time they had actually slept together before she drifted off.

She did not dream.

Hours later, she came slowly and groggily awake in a spill of burning sunshine. The TV was on and a voice droned about temps and heat index. She pushed herself to a sitting position and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Where was Lincoln?

Throwing the covers off, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. She padded into the bathroom on bare feet.

Empty.

She frowned in confusion. She sat at the foot of the bed, took out her phone, and texted him. As if on cue, the door opened and he came in carrying a McDonald's bag. Lynn breathed a sigh of relief. For a second there, she thought Lincoln had ditched her.

*Nervous laugh*

"Hey, you're up," he said and bumped the door closed with his hip. He set the bag on the table and sank into one of the chairs. "Breakfast time."

They planned their day as they ate their Egg McMuffins and hash browns. When they were done, they packed the car up and left, heading south on Ridgewood Blvd, a strip of rundown homes and businesses. It was barely eleven in the morning but already the day was blisteringly hot. At first, she had the windows down, but the air coming through raked her bare skin like sandpaper, so they rolled them up. At a red light, a panhandler stood on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that Lynn couldn't read because of the sun's glare. "Don't make eye contact," she said, staring straight ahead.

"Don't worry, I won't," Lincoln said.

The light changed and they went through it.

For the first part of the day, they drove aimlessly around the city, stopping at every restaurant, grocery store, and gas station to put in job applications. Many of the chain stores - McDonald's, Wal-Mart, Sheetz - required you to fill out applications online, which they couldn't do because all they had were their phones. FIlling out one form after another, Lynn hated admitting that she had no fixed address. It made her look bad and potentially hurt her chances.

They made a circuit of all the neighborhoods and business districts from north to south and east to west. Bungalow Park, Derbyshire, Daytona Gardens, Ridgecrest, Baltimore Heights, and South Dayona. They also crossed into adjoining cities, all of which blended so seamlessly together that at times they couldn't tell if they were technically in Daytona Beach or not. Ormond Beach was a lower middle class residential sector while Port Orange struck Lynn as where all the rich people lived, even though she didn't see any McMansions.

Most of Daytona Beach, including the Speedway, the airport, and the city's hospital, Halifax Medical Center, was on the mainland. The ritzy hotels, boardwalk, amusement park, and beaches occupied a thin strip of shore between the ocean and the Halifax River. The sidewalks here were crowded with tourists in bathing suits and the streets with cars, dune buggies, and even more people. Lynn caught flashes of the water between the high rises, white-cap waves and wading beachgoers like a postcard snapshot. A side street led down to the pier and beach shops filled with shirts, towels, sandals, and whatever else beach shops sell lined the way, their doors open to entice customers and their pink, green, and blue paint baking in the pounding Florida sun.

"Wanna go to the beach?" Lynn asked, already turning onto the street.

"Sure," Lincoln said. "I could go for some beach time."

Lynn pulled to the curb and cut the engine. They got out and crossed the street to the boardwalk, passing a plate-glass window: ZENO'S WORLD FAMOUS TAFFY. Inside, a metal contraption mixed and stretched taffy and people ordered ice cream from a display case fronting the counter. Around the corner, a pizza shop and an arcade stood side by side, vying for patrons. Patio tables looked out over the water, where swimmers frollicked in the water. Lynn leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the salty air. "This is really pretty," she said.

Lincoln put his hand on the small of her back. "You're really pretty."

She blushed and lowered her gaze. "Shut up," she said.

"It's true," he said and kissed her cheek, "you are."

Lynn turned her head and their lips brushed. Their eyes locked and Lynn felt all bubbly inside like she always did when she looked into Lincoln's eyes. He made her feel like a little girl all over again, and what a nice feeling it was. "I know you are," she said and pecked his lips, "but what am I?"

Cupping the back of her neck in his hand, Lincoln pulled her into a passionate kiss, his tongue hungrily caressing hers. He pressed his forehead to hers and grazed his nails over her scalp, sending a shiver racing down her spine. "I love you, Lynn," he said.

"I love you too, Lincoln."

Hand in hand, they went down to the water.


Lynn and Lincoln capped their first visit to Daytona Beach by having a slice of pizza, ordering ice cream from Zeno's, and playing arcade games until late afternoon. When the arcade started filling up with kids and teenagers, they left, Lincoln driving and Lynn searching the internet on her phone for help in the area. It didn't occur to her until she started that she and Lincoln were homeless. They had nowhere to go and would probably wind up sleeping in the car. She didn't know if she wanted to go to a city homeless shelter. Between drunks, addicts, and continuing outbreaks of flu, bedbugs, and Coronavirus, those places were death traps.

She said as much to Lincoln, and he gave a solemn nod. "Pretty much. We can't live in the car forever, though."

"I know," Lynn sighed.

They drove aimlessly around Daytona for most of the evening, stopping only to gas up at a Race Trac on Nova Road and to grab a few things from the Wal-Mart on Granada Blvd. From there, they turned onto a residential street (Lynn thought the sign said Calle Grande Street). The sun was beginning to set and the light took on a pinkish hue that seemed to drench everything. The street curved to the right. A fat old man sat in a Hoveround in his garage and waved as they passed. The next driveway over was crowded by tables laden with random junk and other assorted crap that looked like it should be trashed rather than sold. A short, beefy woman buzzed around the yard like a speed freak, and a fat, shirtless man with gray hair reclined in a canvas camping chair, watching the street with the unrushed leisure of a man who had nothing to do and the rest of his life to do it. Before connecting to Ridgewood, Calle Grande passed a golf course and then flowed through a set of crumbling concrete arches. "I think the motel we stayed at last night is up there," Lynn said and nodded south along Ridgewood.

Later on, near midnight, they stumbled across an abandoned shopping center just over the Port Orange line. The stores were shuttered, the sign out front devoid of any store names. "This looks like a good place," Lynn said.

Lincoln pulled into the parking lot and cut the headlights. He drove around the side of the building and parked in the back, near the loading dock. Back here, with no moon and the strip mall on one side and dense forest on the other, the darkness was total. He rolled down the windows, cut the engine, and reclined the seat back. Lynn kicked out of her shoes, pushed the seat back, and put her bare feet on the dashboard. The cross breeze felt good on them and she let out a sigh. She was cramped, hot, uncomfortable, and so sick of being in the car she could puke, but she was with Lincoln, and that made it all a little more tolerable. "We need to start thinking about that homeless shelter," Lincoln said.

"I know," Lynn said grudgingly. "I just want to avoid it if we can."

"I don't know if we'll be able to," Lincoln pointed out. "I'm not happy about it either, but it's what we have to do, it's what we have to do."

He was right. They'd be a lot better off in a shelter than they would be on the streets. A shelter could help connect them to assistance programs, food pantries, and other services. Out here, they were on their own. That begged the question: Could they even get into a shelter? They were technically fugitives on the run from justice. Did shelters do background checks? Her gut instinct was no, but she didn't know for sure. Also, there was the matter of Lincoln. He could pass as eighteen, but what if someone suspected he wasn't? What if the shelter thought they were runaways and called the police? There were so many things that could go wrong for them. All it would take was one person to break her and Lincoln up and send them back to Michigan.

She said this. "I'm just afraid of losing you."

Lincoln took her hand and kissed it. "You're not going to lose me. I'm right here."

"Can we wait a few days?" Lynn asked hopefully. "Just a few days?"

Lincoln considered her proposition for a long time then let out a deep breath. "Alright. We'll hold off for a few days."

Lynn smiled weakly and caressed his knuckles with her thumb. She could barely make out his profile in the darkness, but she could feel his eyes. She didn't know she was going to speak until she heard her own cracking voice. "I'm sorry."

That single word hung heavily between them. She could sense Lincoln's confusion. "For what?" he asked.

"For all of this," she said, growing one hand up to indicate their surroundings. They should have been at home, living normal lives, not sleeping in a car behind forsaken strip mall in Dayfuckingtona Beach. "This is all my fault."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is," she said. "If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be in this mess. You wouldn't be in this mess."

Lincoln shifted with a rustle of fabric. "It's not your fault, Lynn. Don't act like I'm some little puppy that you dragged into this. I love you and I want to be with you. I'll do whatever it takes to do that, even if it means living in a car. I don't care."

"You shouldn't have to live in a car."

"Neither should you," he said and lovingly stroked her hand. "No one should. But you know what? Shit happens. I'm not worried about it. We'll get through this." He gave Lynn's hand a reassuring squeeze and she smiled despite herself. It wasn't the most eloquent or energetic pep talk she had ever been given, but it was exactly what she needed to hear.

"I just wish things turned out differently," she said.

Lincoln kissed her hand. "I know, but it is what it is. We can either sit around and mope about it or we can build on it and turn it into a positive."

Lynn liked the sound of that.