stuff. We have to get out." I'm as close to hysterical as I've ever been, so I huff and puff and count the seconds between each breath to calm myself. I grab his leg; he grasps my wrist.
"What's going on?" He pulls me up so that I am in his arms for a split second.
"I don't know. I don't know."
I turn away from his embrace and start slapping at the wall of cardboard boxes until my palm hits the hemp. Like a blind girl, my fingers run over and around that knot as I talk.
"It sounds like he can't get traction."
"Where are we?" Billy kneels beside me.
"How should I know that, Billy? How?"
I scream at him to keep from crying. Before he can say another word there is a terrible sound – metallic screeching and wailing. The truck moves in slo-mo like it can't decide where it wants to go.
"Billy, the boxes are coming loose. Pull the rope!" I have no idea if what I'm saying is right or even possible, but we are not going to get crushed to death by a bunch of stinky boxes if I can help it. "Tighten it. Lean back against the boxes where I am and put your feet on the ones that you were near."
"Okay. Okay."
He grunts, giving it all he's got. My hands run up and down the ropes and flutter over the series of knots as I try to visualize what I feel. My heart sinks.
"Never mind. I don't think you can tighten it," I tell him. "Can you get up?"
"The whole thing might come down if I let go," Billy cries. He hollers, "What the hell is he doing? Stop the damn truck. Stop!"
"Billy. Billy! He can't hear you." I put my hands over his. He's got hold of the rope so tight that his fingers are like stone. Even when I touch them, they don't relax. "Billy, listen. We have to get away from these things. Okay? You have to let go. Hurry. I'll keep my back up against the boxes, and you get on the side. We'll take them down together so they don't fall on us. Okay? Okay?"
"Okay." He sniffs. He sniffs again like a boxer and wills his fingers loose.
Billy lets go of the rope, turns in the small space, and crawls between my legs. We play leapfrog in the dark, and the seconds seem like minutes, and the minutes like hours. I move tentatively. The boxes don't fall. I turn fast and put my hands up, but the top one is too high for me to grasp. Then Billy is up and his hands are next to mine. Between the two of us we manage to lift the top box down and put it on the floor. With my foot, I push it toward the end of the container.
"There's two more," Billy breathes. "Two more on this stack."
"Can you get those two on your own?"
"Sure, just don't get in front of me," he warns.
"Okay."
I drop down again. My duffle is still stuck between my tower of boxes and the skin of the truck. Everything we own is inside that duffle. I pull it hard just as I hear a second box hit the floor. The truck fishtails. Billy cries out.
"What happened?" I'm half on my knees.
"The edge of one of them hit me. I'm good. I'm good."
I take him at his word and go back to trying to get my bag.
"Soon as I have this, we'll push these down near the door and make a wall–”
The truck comes to life again and cuts me off. A box falls and the inside of this metal prison reverberates like a gong. Billy groans. My mouth goes dry and my head pounds. I know what's coming.
"Come on, Billy. Come away – " I beg, and then it doesn't matter what we do any more.
The truck has crested the hill and in the next blink we are in free fall, shooting down the other side. We are a ten-ton luge. We are bullets fired out of a defective gun barrel. That's how fast and out of control we go. The container swings, finds its path, and then it's running out like a fisherman's reel, away from the truck bed. I am thrown forward into Billy. We connect for only a second before he is tossed one way and me the other. I hear his grunt as he hits cardboard while I slide between the stacks only to be slammed against metal.
"Billy!" I scream.
"Hannah!" he shouts back.
Both of us are afraid for ourselves and for
"What's going on?" He pulls me up so that I am in his arms for a split second.
"I don't know. I don't know."
I turn away from his embrace and start slapping at the wall of cardboard boxes until my palm hits the hemp. Like a blind girl, my fingers run over and around that knot as I talk.
"It sounds like he can't get traction."
"Where are we?" Billy kneels beside me.
"How should I know that, Billy? How?"
I scream at him to keep from crying. Before he can say another word there is a terrible sound – metallic screeching and wailing. The truck moves in slo-mo like it can't decide where it wants to go.
"Billy, the boxes are coming loose. Pull the rope!" I have no idea if what I'm saying is right or even possible, but we are not going to get crushed to death by a bunch of stinky boxes if I can help it. "Tighten it. Lean back against the boxes where I am and put your feet on the ones that you were near."
"Okay. Okay."
He grunts, giving it all he's got. My hands run up and down the ropes and flutter over the series of knots as I try to visualize what I feel. My heart sinks.
"Never mind. I don't think you can tighten it," I tell him. "Can you get up?"
"The whole thing might come down if I let go," Billy cries. He hollers, "What the hell is he doing? Stop the damn truck. Stop!"
"Billy. Billy! He can't hear you." I put my hands over his. He's got hold of the rope so tight that his fingers are like stone. Even when I touch them, they don't relax. "Billy, listen. We have to get away from these things. Okay? You have to let go. Hurry. I'll keep my back up against the boxes, and you get on the side. We'll take them down together so they don't fall on us. Okay? Okay?"
"Okay." He sniffs. He sniffs again like a boxer and wills his fingers loose.
Billy lets go of the rope, turns in the small space, and crawls between my legs. We play leapfrog in the dark, and the seconds seem like minutes, and the minutes like hours. I move tentatively. The boxes don't fall. I turn fast and put my hands up, but the top one is too high for me to grasp. Then Billy is up and his hands are next to mine. Between the two of us we manage to lift the top box down and put it on the floor. With my foot, I push it toward the end of the container.
"There's two more," Billy breathes. "Two more on this stack."
"Can you get those two on your own?"
"Sure, just don't get in front of me," he warns.
"Okay."
I drop down again. My duffle is still stuck between my tower of boxes and the skin of the truck. Everything we own is inside that duffle. I pull it hard just as I hear a second box hit the floor. The truck fishtails. Billy cries out.
"What happened?" I'm half on my knees.
"The edge of one of them hit me. I'm good. I'm good."
I take him at his word and go back to trying to get my bag.
"Soon as I have this, we'll push these down near the door and make a wall–”
The truck comes to life again and cuts me off. A box falls and the inside of this metal prison reverberates like a gong. Billy groans. My mouth goes dry and my head pounds. I know what's coming.
"Come on, Billy. Come away – " I beg, and then it doesn't matter what we do any more.
The truck has crested the hill and in the next blink we are in free fall, shooting down the other side. We are a ten-ton luge. We are bullets fired out of a defective gun barrel. That's how fast and out of control we go. The container swings, finds its path, and then it's running out like a fisherman's reel, away from the truck bed. I am thrown forward into Billy. We connect for only a second before he is tossed one way and me the other. I hear his grunt as he hits cardboard while I slide between the stacks only to be slammed against metal.
"Billy!" I scream.
"Hannah!" he shouts back.
Both of us are afraid for ourselves and for
Similar Books
Designed for Love
Yvette Hines
Hard Mated
Jennifer Ashley
A Clandestine Corporate Affair
Michelle Celmer
The Sniper's Wife
Archer Mayor
Plan Bee
Hannah Reed
Love For Hire
Anna Marie May
The Mystic Wolves
Belinda Boring
Fatal Judgment
Irene Hannon
Awakened (Vampire Awakenings)
Brenda K. Davies
Forever
Pete Hamill