Chapter 45

It took all but a matter of minutes for John and Billie to gather everything they currently owned. John had three suitcases and Billie only one; their four hands carried the four bags. John wasted no time stepping out of the apartment, killing the lights and scurrying into the hallway. There wasn't even any time to consider that they had forgotten anything or do one last look around the place. Billie felt somewhat sentimental about leaving. Would she ever step foot into that space again? Those rooms held memories for her. Did they mean nothing to John?

Billie literally shook her head to clear herself of the thoughts. They were leaving because they had to; it was the safest move. John's feelings were not detached from anything of the sort. She was only rattled to the point of delusion. Her mind was still having trouble thinking rationally.

John led the way downstairs. He wore a large coat and fedora. He moved quickly but not anxiously. Billie watched him, knowing she should take her cues from his control. Her face was still inflamed from her tears and taught with stress. Her eyes were wide and darted all around like a jumpy deer. When they reached the street the cars were visible, the entire gang packed away in groups. John's car was now being driven by someone else, many bodies packed inside. They began heading toward a vehicle, Billie seeing the figure of a woman in the front seat.

For a sudden moment Billie opened her mouth to protest. She couldn't bear having to ride along with Mariy, but as quickly as the complaint came it dissolved. Billie couldn't bother John with such a trivial matter in a time like this. She would suck up her resentment. John pulled up the trunk, which was already packed, and managed to rearrange the space to fit all but one of their bags. That one they carried with them into the backseat. With a heavy sigh of relief Billie saw that the woman in the front seat was Jane. Red was their driver, and she and John were sharing the backseat with Homer. Almost as soon as they piled in the car was in motion.

"That's heavy!" the man whined as John pushed him closer toward the door and placed the suitcase by his legs, banging him up a bit.

"Relax," John replied. His arm had been kept around Billie and as he sat in the middle seat he faced and leaned toward her as best as possible. He glanced toward the front seat than back at her. "Swing by my sister's house."

If John hadn't been with her each step of the way Billie couldn't imagine herself having gotten that far. She sat in a car with people, all relatively strangers, who were taking her somewhere she didn't know. The only thing that gave her any assurance was his hold, his touch steadily upon her. Their eyes met in the darkness, John seeing the utter vulnerability pouring out of her. She looked so scared and helpless he got his first real punch of guilt. Was this too much for her? He became very anxious for the first time during their getaway.

"Why are we going there?" she whispered and John heard the tremor still in her voice. He'd promised her they could talk but they couldn't do so with three other people in the car, and the next chance they could be alone was far off.

"I have to drop somethin' off." His voice was softer than hers and his hand rose, his thumb caressing her cheek. She could see in his eyes that he was aware and worried about her. She didn't have to tell him; he knew she needed him more than ever.

She had already left home, but geographically, she was only a few miles away. She was still so close to home that it didn't feel so abandoning. Where they were off to now she didn't know, but she was sure it would be far far away. This time Billie would really be leaving home and everything she was used to. As they drove to the Hancock's house it would be a final goodbye. She didn't know what John had to do, but she knew what she should.

"Can I write a letter...to Mary?"

John paused, processing this request and then nodding. She didn't need permission but assurance. John asked around the car for paper and a pen, Billie thinking about what she would write as she waited. Her best friend would soon know, if she didn't already, about her relationship with her uncle. It would be an incomprehensible blow, especially with the added concepts of her running away or having been kidnapped. She didn't know how the girl would take it, but she could offer some quick words. Disappearing without any kind of closure would possibly be more hurtful to the friends than the actual truth.

A scrap of paper and utensil were retrieved from Jane from somewhere deep in her handbag. Billie laid the paper on her knee, writing sloppily. She didn't know if John watched or even if he wanted to see but scribbled words as best she could.

Mary-
I know it's hard, please try to understand.
I still need you- you're my best friend.
Billie

It looked inadequate and pathetic. It was all that would come. Disheartened, Billie folded the note and handed it to John. Again she had a strong urge to cry and scolded herself, holding back the tears roughly. Some minutes later they neared the familiar farmhouse, stopping halfway down the drive. John left the car by kicking Homer out of his seat so Billie wouldn't have to move. The man hurried to the front door, silently leaving a tied, thick wad of cash and Billie's note on the doorstep. He was back in the car a moment later.