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line up their next move in
this dangerous game. I will win! His
voice boomed inside his head.
    The heat blew down on them from a vent above. He
could smell her. Mick leaned into Cara’s space, careful not to hit her head that’d
fallen on his shoulder.
    A sweet scent—tropical, like coconuts—filled his
nose. Mick rested his head back, leaning into something soft but not so
pleasant-smelling, and shut his eyes, searching for any amount of sleep he could
catch.
    ****
    An amplified announcement had them both jolting
awake. Mick’s eyes fluttered open, his bones stiff. He listened as a feminine
voice came over the PA system, advising passengers who held tickets for the 6
a.m. departure to Hackensack, New Jersey, to prepare to board. Cara’s breathy
voice moved through the thick, warm air.
    “What time is it?” she asked. Her body stretched
out, brushing against his.
    “Not sure, but I think it’s time to get outta here,”
he told her.
    They rose to their feet, stumbling in the small
space.
    “Ouch!” Cara yelled. “Oh my God! What was that?”
    “What’s wrong? What happened?” Mick reached for her,
fumbling through the darkness.
    “Oh,” she cried. “It stings. Where’s the light? I
need light,” Cara called out to him, frantic.
    Mick stumbled through the darkness. Supplies
clattered as he pushed his way toward the door. His hands scoured the wall for
a switch. He quickly flipped on the light.
    Brightness seared his eyes. Mick blinked, forcing to
see through the floating white dots that hung in the air.
    “Oh no,” Cara wailed. “What the hell!”
    Mick’s jaw fell.
    Cara’s forearm was sliced open. Blood poured down
her flesh like a red road.
    “Jesus Christ,” Mick gasped. His head spun. Every
nerve in his body was now awake and stretched to its limit. His own blood
rushed to his temples, pounding. “What the fuck!”
    His eyes darted around the closet, landing on a
utility knife that’d been jammed between two bottles of cleaning agents, its
blade out of its casing.

 
    Chapter
Five
     
    The blood rained down her forearm, hot and stinging.
Cara stiffened with panic, unprepared to deal as she fought to emerge from
what’d been a deep sleep.
    Mick ransacked the supply cart. He grabbed a roll of
toilet paper and quickly began unwinding the sheets. He pressed the tissue
against her skin. Pain tingled down to her fingers. His rushing breaths hit her
face. She raised her eyes to his.
    “Is it deep?” Cara swallowed hard. She really didn’t
have a strong stomach. She couldn’t even watch True Blood DVDs without having to peek through her fingers.
    “I’m not sure. I don’t want to look. I just want to
stop the bleeding,” Mick said, his words running together. His palm pressed
over the wound. They both sagged into the wall. Silence grew between them,
filling the air with questions.
    Cara felt like an idiot. Here Mick decided to take
her with him and now, within hours of embarking on their journey, she’d already
become a liability. Mick’s angry words bit through the air.
    “What fucking asshole would leave a utility knife
open like that?” He pounded his fist into the wall. Cara met his eyes, glad she didn’t have to vocalize what they both knew
was inevitable.
    “We have to get this looked at.” His voice was now
hoarse. His hazel eyes locked with hers, the green more dominant at this
particular moment. His brow creased, his face slack
with worry. “Come on. Let me help you with your coat.”
    “Where?” Cara’s stomach lurched. How the hell will
we pay for this? She knew how much money Mick had. Cara only had $115 with
her. Leaving behind her last paycheck seemed foolish, but she certainly
couldn’t have asked for it. What she had wouldn’t even cover the doctor’s bill.
    The touch of Mick’s fingers on her chin felt alien. The
calloused tip grazed over her skin as he directed her eyes to his face.
    “This has to be dealt with. It could get infected,
then where will we be?