C. Box: The Highway

Christian said, “Didn’t you say that if you could take her sister’s personality and put it into Danielle’s body, that-”

“Shut up, ” Justin said, giving Christian the evil eye and checking around to see if anybody had overheard. “I was goofing around. And that was just between us, dude.”

Christian replied with a broad conspiratorial wink and drained the last of the beer bottle he held in a meaty hand. “Hey, I get it,” Christian said. “I’ve seen her profile on Facebook. She’s smoking hot, man.”

“What are you guys talking about over there?” one of the girls from the family room called out, “Christian, you went to get me a beer, remember?”

“Coming up!” Christian called back, walking into the kitchen to pull another beer bottle from the cooler of ice.

The girl, named Kelsie, got up from the sofa and smiled at Justin and shook her head to indicate Christian was an idiot. Kelsie had short red hair, sparkling green eyes, a little too much makeup, and breasts that strained at the buttons of her blouse.

She said, “I heard. So is this the girl that kept you unavailable to the fine girls of Montana?”

He didn’t respond.

“Justin, are you there?” she asked, annoyed. Justin heard Christian curse in the other room and looked up.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not sure what I should do.”

“Tell her to turn around,” Kelsie said. “Yes!” Christian agreed as he walked back. “But tell her to sext you some photos first.”

“Shut up, Christian,” Kelsie said coldly. Christian shut up.

Then to Justin: “Tell her to go home .”

“You don’t know her,” Justin said, sighing. “Plus, she has her sister with her. They’re on the highway hours from Denver.”

“She’s manipulating you,” Kelsie said. “Can’t you see that?”

He slumped back and looked at the ceiling for any answer other than yes .

5:57 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

In the shadows of the rear row at the truck stop, The Lizard King dragged the body into his sleeper cab and wrapped it in plastic sheeting and secured the bundle with hundred-mile tape before sopping the floor clean of her blood so his boot soles wouldn’t stick to it. Then he stripped off his bloody one-piece, tossed it into the corner of the sleeper, and pulled on another. The inside of the truck would have to be thoroughly washed out and disinfected as soon as he could do it. But not here. Not with a body in the sleeper. He couldn’t risk the chance of letting anyone look inside until he figured out how to dispose of the body and the bloody rags. Luckily, there were plenty of empty miles between the truck stop and home.

* * *

He sat back heavily in the driver’s seat after he’d stashed all his tools and weapons. The Bible-thumpers were still out there.

His blood was up and he suddenly wanted to kill them all. But there were five of them and one of him, and they stood in between the shelter of the truck trailers so he couldn’t run them down.

* * *

Furious, he released the parking brake and slammed his gearshift into low and the Eaton-Fuller transmission bit in. The laughing Bible-thumpers were bathed in his headlights as he revved the motor and lurched forward toward them. They scattered except for Chamois, who held his hand up as if that could stop tons of steel and rubber.

But the Lizard King didn’t drive over him. Instead, he cranked the wheel sharply and roared out of his space and down the driveway, nearly clipping the bumper of the truck next to him with the end of his trailer.

He wanted to get out of the lot as quickly as he could, to leave this place of wicked humiliation. The faces and trucks of Chamois, Muttonchops, and the others would forever be burned into his memory. He’d never forget them, and he’d get his revenge one by one. He didn’t care if it took years to get them all.

In the meantime, he’d have to take it out on somebody, some bitch.

He roared out the exit to the highway going way too fast. In his rage he didn’t check his mirrors before sliding onto the interstate.

5:58 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

Danielle had her phone on her lap, texting furiously and giggling. Justin had replied.

“Justin is sooo excited for us to get there,” she said to Gracie.

“He is?”

“Don’t sound so … pissy,” Danielle said.

“What did he say exactly?” Gracie asked. She couldn’t imagine Justin texting that he was “sooo excited.” Gracie was constantly taken aback by her sister’s blissful ignorance on so many serious subjects. But she couldn’t fault Danielle’s ability to get what she wanted when she wanted it and to drag others along into her orbit. Like her .

“So what did he say?” Gracie asked.

Danielle shot her an annoyed look. “He said, ‘Okay.’”

“That’s it?”

“He’s a man of few words,” Danielle said with her patented lah-de-dah intonation, although the set to her face belied her tone.

The thing was, Gracie thought, Justin wasn’t necessarily a man of few words at all, although he probably didn’t get many in when Danielle was talking. The simple “okay” in response wasn’t encouraging. And of course Danielle knew it.

Despite the situation Danielle had put them in, Gracie felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for her sister. Danielle, despite her bluster and lah-de-dah, was fragile and needy. Their parents’ divorce, when Danielle was thirteen, had crushed her and she’d yet to recover. Danielle was too emotional, too desperate for male attention. She’d surrounded herself with boys as if trying to fill the void left by Ted. Before Justin, Danielle was a little slut. Gracie had been embarrassed by her sister, and was too often chosen as a sounding board by the boys Danielle had thrown aside. But after Justin, Danielle straightened up. In a way, Justin had taken Danielle off the market and allowed her to grow. Even a distant Justin gave Danielle an excuse to take herself out of the game. He was good for her in ways he didn’t understand, and in ways that were unfair to him, Gracie thought. She didn’t blame him for perhaps wanting to be cut loose. But at the same time, she didn’t want her sister to spin out of control.

“I’m in prison on the Planet Danielle,” Gracie moaned.

“What brought that on?” her sister chirped. “Besides, you could be worse places.”

Gracie glanced over at the display panel and changed the subject.

“That light is still on,” Gracie said.

“Oh that again.” Danielle sighed.

“When is the last time you got the oil changed in this car? Do you even know?”

“Barely … out … of … Billings,” Danielle said while she punched in the letters of the text to Justin. Then: “Mom sent me a text back. She said to say hi to dad. Woo-hoo! We’re still in the clear.”

“I see some lights up ahead,” Gracie said, gesturing with her chin. “There’s a truck stop or something. I wonder if they’d have a mechanic working or we could find someone to take a look at this?”

Danielle looked up, angry. “We’re not stopping to waste time. Justin or his dad can look it over when we get there. They’ll fix it.”

“What if we don’t make it?”

“What if monkeys fly out of your butt?”

“Really, Danielle-”

“We’re gonna keep driving!”

Gracie took a big gulp of breath and held it in.

The lights of the truck stop drew closer. There looked to be a lot of activity on the lots; plenty of cars and big trucks. Someone, possibly, who could help them.

Gracie said, “If you don’t stop to check on the car, I’m calling Mom.”