“We’ll take the truck. It’s got a radiator problem, but we can fill that jug with water and take it with us, just in case.”
“Maybe we ought to leave it. It’s so close to commissary, and the house. Otis might see us.”
Rae Lynn said, “We got to try. You’ll wish we had,” and she looked pointedly at Cornelia’s shoes.
Cornelia said, “I suppose you’re right,” her voice trembling.
Rae Lynn said, “Now?”
“Might as well. Best to go while it’s dark.”
They went outside, and as they walked by the unoccupied number forty-two, Rae Lynn wished once more she could thank Del Reese for saving her. She wondered where he would go, what he would do from here on out. She’d likely never know. A glorious, full moon rose over the trees and allowed them to see the path, a milky-white trail of soft, sandy soil. After a few minutes they came to the section for the coloreds. In the distance, music flowed and rippled on the night air like a river. From the depths of the juke joint, a woman’s laugh rang out, and somewhere overhead in a nearby tree, a whippoorwill sang its high-pitched warbling night song. The air was still warm, still fragrant with the things of summer, honeysuckle, wild grapes, and the fishy odor of nearby creek water. Rae Lynn thought they were safe as long as they stayed tucked into the shadows after entering the main section of the camp. They walked quickly until the sight of Cornelia’s home glowing like a jack-o’-lantern, light pouring from every window, made them stop. Rae Lynn heard her gasp.
She grabbed Cornelia’s hand and tugged, whispering, “Hurry.”
They ran in a hunched-over fashion to the truck. They eased the doors open and jumped in, shutting them as quiet as they could. Cornelia flapped her hands anxiously, while Rae Lynn tried to sort through the steps in her head about how to crank it.
Cornelia squeaked, “Hurry, Rae Lynn! Oh, my God, he’s done figured out I’m gone!”
“I’m trying, I got to do it right. Can’t afford to stall or flood it. It don’t help none it’s pitch-dark.”
She sat in the seat and tried to recall where she’d put the key. She fumbled around searching on the floorboard until fingers brushed across it near her left foot. She jammed it into the ignition, while remembering she had to adjust the fuel cutoff. She pulled the choke out and turned the knob as Warren had shown her to allow a certain mixture of gas. His voice was in her head, directing her. They’d done it time and again, and as she moved through the steps, all he’d taught her started to come back. She put the truck in neutral, made a couple adjustments to the throttle. Finally, she turned on the ignition, one foot on the clutch and the other on the starter button. She adjusted the choke again, and unbelievably, it started. It wasn’t noisy. It only made a soft putt-putt-putt, but to Rae Lynn, it might as well have been a jackhammer. Cornelia bounced on the seat, hand over her mouth, as she stared over her shoulder at her house.
Cornelia said, “We got to go! He might hear this thing!”
Rae Lynn glanced over at Cornelia and said, “I need to let it warm a bit before I—” She froze, her wide-eyed gaze on Cornelia’s front porch. Cornelia looked, then grabbed Rae Lynn’s arm so tight it hurt.
“Go, go!”
Rae Lynn fumbled with the gear stick, while Cornelia squeaked out, “Oh, dear Lord. He’s coming down the steps!”
Rae Lynn moved the gear into reverse, pressed the clutch, once, twice, and they backed up. She prayed she’d find first, and second . . . and the truck acted like it wanted to stall, coughing and spewing smoke when she forgot to double clutch as she managed to get it into first.
She mumbled to herself, “Come on, remember what you been taught! Pay attention!”
The truck jolted forward and rolled along, cooperating under her clumsy adjustments, but a man with good legs could still outrun them. Rae Lynn didn’t know if Otis had good legs or not and when she dared to look again, he was closer, the angle of his head and his posture telling her he was trying to make them out. She saw the moment recognition struck, his mouth a gaping maw, before he started running for the vehicle. She managed to slip the gear from first into second and as they whizzed by, he grabbed at Cornelia. She squealed and leaned to the left against Rae Lynn, while Otis’s fingernails left long scratches along her forearm. He slapped his hand on the back end of the truck as they picked up speed.
He bellowed, “Cornelia! What the hell you doing!”
Rae Lynn dared to look over her shoulder, and he was still running. Meanwhile, Cornelia was bent forward, head down, hands braced on the dash.