God dammit, this chapter is ready for weeks and I haven't posted it ! I was sure I did. Well, so now you will have two chapters in two days, the second will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy !


Quinn woke up with a start several times that night, shaking Rachel from her sleep at the same time. The blonde woman would then extract herself from her embrace, drink a glass filled with tap water and go back to sleep straight away into her friend's arms, hoping that her nightmares would leave her alone for the rest of the night.

They didn't.

Despite Rachel's soothing murmurs in her ear and her cautious caresses on her hips and her back, Quinn was unremittingly disturbed by the visions of a house put to fire and the sword, of a decimated family rotting in a bathroom, of a woman with mad eyes who had a large shiny knife pointed toward her. She saw blue and red lights flashing in the distance, coming closer to their car inexorably, blinding and dazzling.

She also dreamed, from time to time, of fine sandy beaches and gentle heat, of great spaces, of fields dried out by the sun and of freedom.

Quinn didn't really know which one of these dreams would come true.

It was a little after seven in the morning when the tall blonde gave up the idea of finding sleep again, left the warm bed where Rachel was still asleep to take a shower.

Once inside the little bathroom, she took her clothes off, let the water run for ten minutes on her naked skin which was still bearing the scars of the carnage that had happened two days earlier. Her back hurt, her wounds tingled and itched, but she didn't mind; the sensation wasn't unpleasant. And also, she finally had the chance to take a shower, to wash for the first time in three days.

The lukewarm water wiped away the blood still stuck on her skin, in her hair, under her nails, as if it had never been there. Quinn lathered every centimeter of her body until she felt clean, until she didn't feel soiled anymore by the splashes of blood of the Kanes.

Only thinking about this name was making her sick, mad with rage.

She closed the tap and dried herself meticulously, taking care of not reopen the cuts which were slowly healing on her back.

When she came back into the room, dry and wearing the clothes she bought the day before, Rachel was still asleep, squeezing a pillow in her fists. Quinn let her rest another moment, even though she knew they had to leave as soon as possible, toward the west.

Quinn opened the backpack she had taken with her and found inside her lighter and a few cigarettes at the bottom of a pocket. She lit one after having opened the window, leaned on her elbows and inhaled the smoke in the cold, prickly morning air.

She closed her eyes for a moment. The events of those last days had blended into each other so fast that she barely had the time to think about it. Since the day she had traced her torturers, by an unfortunate chance — she had simply looked for the names of the people who had lived in Ohio in 2001, the year she had been abducted, and who had moved out about six months later, and she had gone through registers and libraries and hundreds of websites for months and for years, until she found this photo, the picture of this woman, her icy grin and her eyes that she could never forget.

It had been almost too easy.

Even after having seen her dead, having killed her with her own hands, she knew that she could never forget her.

"I thought that you had quit smoking."

Quinn turned around and saw Rachel half sitting on the bed, resting on her elbows. The latter stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, glided her thin fingers through her disheveled hair ant sat more properly, resting her head between her hands, waiting for Quinn's reply.

"I stopped," she said while shrugging. "I had stopped. I only had a few cigarettes left in my bag, and I..." Quinn sighed weakly. "I don't know. I needed that, I think."

"I understand."

They didn't say anything more for one minute or two, Quinn still smoking her cigarette and Rachel observing her with a serene look.

When she had finished, the blonde stubbed out her cigarette on the window sill before closing it. She then sat down beside Rachel, glided her nails through her hair, a shy smile at the tip of her lips.

"We have to go now, Rachel. We still have a long way to go, and so little time before us."

The smaller woman sighed softly, nodding wordlessly with a resigned air. Quinn suddenly felt bad for making Rachel endure all those sacrifices. She didn't ask for it, after all, and yet she was now involved in a road trip which would last only God knew for how long.

"I'm sorry to put you through all of this," she said in a low voice. "I promise you that it will be all over soon, that we could finally live in peace. Safely."

"I know," Rachel replied and nodded. "This is not your fault, you have to understand that, Quinn. I chose to come with you, to help you go through this ordeal. And I don't regret it."

Rachel took Quinn's hand which was still in her hair, held it for an instant against her face, letting out a sigh of relief at her touch. Knowing that Quinn was close to her was comforting her, warming up her soul, as if nothing could happen to her as long as Quinn was touching her.

She felt herself holding her breath brusquely when the blonde's face slowly came nearer, her hazel eyes landing in turns on her mouth and in her eyes. However, Rachel prevented her from going further by laying two fingers on Quinn's lips. The latter furrowed her brows, a questioning, almost disappointed air painting her features.

"Not now," Rachel murmured. "When all... when everything will be over."

Quinn seemed to understand, and gave her a sad smile.

Rachel squeezed her hand between hers, clutching her bony fingers before bringing them to her mouth to kiss them.

One day she could do more than just that. When she wouldn't be afraid of leaving her home anymore, when she wouldn't feel the need to look behind her at every step. She felt that this moment would come, very soon, once they would be definitely safe.

She trusted Quinn about it.


Half an hour later, the two women ended up in their car, listening with an attentive, anxious ear to the different radio stations.

The news were passing one after the other in the vehicle, while Rachel was rubbing her hands to warm them up and Quinn was finishing drinking her coffee. The journalist talked about economics, politics, about the last national and international news, environmentalism and entertainment during the five minutes which were dedicated to his program. Then an ad stepped in, and Quinn turned the button to change station.

None of them, however, was talking about some kind of murder that had happened in the state of Indiana — but a small local news station did mention briefly, in its miscellaneous section, a fire that had been spotted by some witnesses on a hill slope, near the manor belonging to a famous family.

Quinn froze, felt a lump in her throat. She saw from the corner of her eye the horrified expression, probably similar to hers, on Rachel's face.

The newsflash barely lasted one minute. It felt like an eternity. As soon as it was over and that the presenter kept on talking about a lighter topic, the young blonde scrambled to turn the ignition key, pushed on the pedal and left the almost deserted parking to get to the highway as fast as possible.

She was feeling upset by these news, more than what she would have thought. She thought she was sufficiently prepared for it, this eventuality which would have be bound to happen one day or another. But she hadn't thought that the shock of hearing it at the radio would be so great.

By the way, she bitterly thought that the authorities had took an awfully lot of time before noticing that such an imposing structure had caught fire.

Perhaps they knew it for a long time, but hadn't disclosed the information to the journalists until now.

Whatever would happen now, they had to keep on driving, ever further.

Rachel remained motionless on her seat without saying a word since they took off like a shot. Quinn noticed it quickly and, glancing at her quickly before keeping her eyes fixed on the road, she asked her if she was feeling okay.

"I don't really know," Rachel replied and shrugged her shoulders. "I am a bit shaken. I was expecting it, of course, but to know that the entire state, and soon the entire country know what happened there... well, it makes me a little uncomfortable."

Quinn nodded silently. She was also feeling uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.

"They won't catch us, Rachel," the taller woman continued after a beat. "They don't know the fire is intentional, that we are between this thing. Damn it, they probably don't even know that there are four corpses completely burnt out in the bathroom! They will need time before linking this event to us, and we will be already far away from them then."

"I hope you're right," Rachel softly said while looking out of the window. The cars passed by relentlessly before the bleak landscape surrounding the highway. Some conifers were heaping up in places, but for the most part, there was nothing to see.

She briefly wondered if Quinn was really thinking what she had just said, if she believed it, if they weren't running any danger for the moment, or if she had only pronounced those sentences to convince herself, to give herself some time.

Probably both, Rachel judged.

They spent the entire day on the roads, taking turns driving so that the other could rest for a few hours, but never really finding sleep. The two women stopped twice to have lunch and to take a break, losing only two hours on their journey which was leading them through hundreds of counties and roads and landscapes.

They couldn't even enjoy it because their mind was so absorbed by other concerns, much more serious.

At about seven in the evening, when dusk declared itself, Quinn proposed to stop for the night.

"But not in a motel," she clarified. "Let's try to stay with a local not too curious."

"Do you think it's better? Wouldn't a motel be more discreet?"

"Not if we keep paying with a debit card. And we don't have to stay in town; we can wander in the country until we stumble upon an old couple of farmers who would offer us hospitality for a night. I think we can manage to do it."

Rachel agreed. After all, whether they would stay in at somebody's house or in a proper establishment, the result would be the same. Quinn drove for an hour more, driving along the border between Nebraska and Colorado, between plains and mountains before finding a place that would serve their purpose.

A small house away from the agitation of downtown below, sitting on a hillside and not overlooked, appeared to them. Quinn slowed down, cut off the engine when they were only a hundred meters away. She watched the smoke coming out of the chimney, the pickup truck parked near the fields, the light coming out of the windows masked by the curtains.

She heard Rachel sigh softly.

"What are we going to tell them?"

Quinn had opened the door and was already beginning to get out.

"We'll figure something out," she replied. "We'll tell them that we are lost, that we had visited an aunt or a distant cousin and that we couldn't find our way back. We'll tell them that we have no GPS, no cellphone, to be more credible. And if they refuse to take pity on us and to welcome us in their house, we'll hit the road again and we'll to the exact same thing with the next house."

It wasn't a bad plan, after all. It would be enough if the people they were going to meet were slightly understanding and not really curious, and it could work. They would spend the night without encountering any problem, they would be warm, they would eat, and would go back the day after. It would be simple, actually.

The two young women each took their backpack and walked along the beaten path, coming closer to the little house.

Now that they had almost reached the house, they could perceive snatches of an unclear conversation between two people, hear the life reigning behind the windows, and even smell the odor coming from the kitchen, making their mouths water.

Quinn took Rachel's hand and walked to the front door and knocked. Long seconds ticked by before the door finally opened.

A black woman about thirty years old, a little chubby, with an affable and smiling face, her hair held in a ponytail and wearing an apron was standing in front of them. She didn't seem the least bit surprised to have visitors, even though her house was more than a kilometer away from any other habitation. Quinn tried to smile casually, cleared her throat and gripped Rachel's hand a little harder.

"Goodnight madam, my name is Quinn, and here is my friend Rachel. We're sorry to disturb you this late, but we got lost, and we were wondering if... if you could host us for a night," she finished in a low voice. "If it doesn't bother you." She was ashamed to lie so pathetically.

"But of course," the young woman exclaimed. "We don't often have guests here, and it would be a pleasure, for my husband and myself, to offer room and board to two young women like you."

The blonde felt herself blushing, both with relief and shame. To abuse poor, innocent people really wasn't like her. But she kept at the back of her mind the reason why she was acting like this, and told herself that there was no other conceivable solution. Anyway, the dice were cast. They couldn't go back anymore.

"Come in," the woman added when she saw that they hadn't moved a muscle. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to make you some warm tea and introduce you to my husband, he will be delighted to meet you. By the way, I didn't introduce myself, I am Mercedes."

The inside was charming, warmly adjusted. All the furniture was made from wood, and a fire was crackling in the fireplace. When they came into the living room, the two young women noticed the several portraits and landscapes decorating the walls, the leather couch and the two armchairs in front of the hearth, the thick carpet with intricate patterns covering parquet.

Everything here was displaying comfort and humility.

Mercedes introduced them to Sam, a blond man with a juvenile face who wore checked shirts and big boots. He was glad to meet them, grinning so genuinely that the two girls felt a pang of emotion within their hearts.

Their hosts invited them to put their light belongings in a room at the back of the house, then begged them to share their meal. Quinn and Rachel could only eat half of their plates before apologizing, pretending to be tired by the long journey they had, and they went into their room. Mercedes and Sam didn't seem the slightest bit offended, and it was even more painful to stand.

"I feel bad for them," Rachel admitted once in the privacy of the bedroom. "They are so kind, so honest. While we are hiding what we are, what we have done. If they only what we just did."

"We don't really have a choice," Quinn said with a faint voice, broken by the fatigue and the emotions. "If they knew what we did, they would denounce us, or worse, they would kill us."

"I know."

Quinn lifted her head, looked at the brown eyes shining in the darkness. She often wondered, since she had called Rachel in the middle of the night three days earlier, what she would have done if she hadn't come, if she hadn't supported her. She would probably have never gotten out of this house alone, she thought bitterly.

She came closer to her, squeezed her hand in hers and smiled.

"I'm glad that you are here, with me."

Quinn didn't need to see Rachel's smile to know it was here, adorning her lips and lighting up her features.

"Me too, Quinn," she replied. Before adding, after a silence which felt like hours : "We'll get through it, you'll see. We're going to get out of this mess, and live the life we deserve. I promise you."

She had the gift to pull a few tears from Quinn, who cried softly in her arms for the major part of the night.


The tops of crags and cliffs, the air is thin
So we'll find a mountain path on down the hill
Meet me where the snow melt flows
It is there, my dear, where we will begin again.

— Take Us Back, Alela Diane.