I look over to see Drew on his phone texting the boss that we made a break, but I can’t be bothered to get onto him. It’s not like texting while driving is the most unlawful thing we’ve done tonight. I stick my head out of the truck’s sunroof. The cold wind blows into my face and through my hair. I can feel Drew’s eyes on me from the driver’s seat. It’s like were the only two people in the world.
“Sage, get down from there! The cops can see your face up there.”
“It’s not like they own fancy helicopters…” I snarl back at him.
I can’t be bothered to be actually concerned about the police, but I obey Drew’s wishes and plop back down in the passenger seat. Who knew our great escape would feel this good? I can feel the tingle in my fingers and toes knowing we orchestrated and carried out such a task. The police scanner statics and beeps in the background and I’m brought back from my daydream. I can hear them looking for us. Sirens squeal. The sound rushes through my body.
The scanner makes a static, crashing noise. Suddenly, I feel like I’m back in that tiny little bank in the center of Raton. The gun is in my hand and at the end of it is the teller. Everyone is screaming and crying begging for us not to shoot them. They don’t know that Drew and I only need the money for the boss. He would get angry if we never paid him back for the dope stolen from us. Shit, maybe he would even kill us.
Drew makes a sharp curve at 40 and we miraculously come out the other side; the jolt brings me back from my flashback. “God Drew, it’s a full-on manhunt just for us. I can’t help but like the attention.” We cross under the I-95 overpass and I feel the dopamine start to hit me.
“Perps last seen traveling Eastbound on 72. They just passed the intersection of 25 driving a blue ford pickup with a Colorado license plate, white male and female,” the man on the scanner says. He seems distressed. To be fair, we just committed the worst crime that little town had seen in years.
“Where did they go?”
We finally get to the motel out of state where we’d stay for the night while still on the run. Pay in cash, wear a mask, never be seen together, and get the hell out of the lobby as soon as possible. We have a quick call with the boss before we went back out to hide the truck under a tarp and park it behind the motel building. We put our bags in the room to stay just for the night. I wash my face with cold water to get the adrenaline and sweat off. We lay together that night, sprawled out on the one king-sized bed, just watching the ceiling.
Drew fell asleep immediately. I guess it’s easier for him to be so fearless, he has more experience anyway. But I laid there, just waiting for things to come crashing. The high of committing a crime like this is so good, but the crash is like rock bottom. I didn’t sleep, not even a little. It felt like my heart was running on a treadmill, like it was still escaping something as well.
A loud banging on the door interrupts my glare at the ceiling. I can hear my heart in my ears, the heat pulses through my cheeks as I walk slowly to the door. It almost sounded like someone using a metal object to pound on the door. That bastard Drew didn’t even move at the sound.
I check the clock, 9 a.m. I fear it’s the cops and prepare for our stay to be short lived. I put my eye to the peephole expecting to see the officers who catch us. Instead, I see a housekeeper standing with a cart full of cleaning supplies and towels on the other side.
Rebecca Butler 