Chapter 4
We didn't waste any more time. David didn't even bother to check out.
He grabbed my hand and, just like last time, we bolted out of the motel.
Then we got back in the car.
Dawn was breaking. Street cleaners were already out and about.
The car fired up, and we joined the flow of city traffic.
I glanced back at that shabby motel.
In the morning light, it just looked like any other place.
No one could have imagined that we, two ordinary travelers, were fugitives on the run.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Somewhere absolutely safe," David said. "Somewhere... they could never track us down."
We hit the highway again. This time, we were heading west. We were driving toward even more remote, deserted places.
After driving for a while, David pulled over at a rest stop.
"Stay in the car and lock the doors. No matter who knocks, don't open the door," he told me.
Then he got out and walked into the convenience store.
He was back in no time with a big bag.
It was packed with water, bread, and some ship biscuits.
He also bought the cheapest flip phone and a new SIM card.
He popped the new SIM into the flip phone, and then took out his own SIM card.
He tossed both his phone and the SIM card into a trash can by the side of the road.
I stared at him in shock. That phone held every photo, every memory we ever shared.
"Why did you throw it away?" I asked.
"They can track it," David said. His answer was simple but cold.
He powered up the flip phone, not bothering to save a single number.
Then, from the inner fold of his wallet, he pulled out a small piece of paper.
There was a phone number scrawled on it.
He handed it to me.
"Memorize this number, and then eat it," David said. He was dead serious.
He went on, "This is the only way to contact me.
"If... If we ever get split up, call this number.
"Whoever answers will tell you what to do."
My heart sank.
Split up? Why would we split up?
But I didn't ask. I silently memorized the number.
Then, right in front of him, I popped the paper into my mouth and swallowed it.
The paper tasted bitter and harsh. Just like the way I felt inside.
The car started up again. The atmosphere inside felt even heavier than before.
David throwing away his phone meant we'd truly severed ourselves from everything in our past—for real, physically cut off.
We'd become nobodies—no names, no pasts.
All that remained was an endless escape, with no finish line in sight.
I stared out the window as the scenery rushed past. From the city, through the suburbs, and into the countryside.
The tall buildings slowly disappeared from view. Instead, endless stretches of farmland and rolling mountains took over the view.
Cars started thinning out, barely any left on the road.
The roads got tougher, bumpier with every mile.
We left the highway behind and turned onto a rough, winding back road.
Then we turned off the main road and onto a dirt track, which was so overgrown with wild grass that it was barely visible.
The car bounced and rattled so much that I thought my guts were about to spill out.
David acted like he didn't feel a thing.
He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead, completely absorbed in driving.
I started watching him. I noticed something odd about the way he drove.
He never once glanced at the rearview mirror.
It was like he was sure nothing was after us.
Or maybe he was scared he'd catch a glimpse of something in that mirror, something he really didn't want to see.
"Don't look back." I remembered his first words to me.
Those three words were like a spell, wrapping around our escape and refusing to let go.
Just what was it that I wasn't supposed to look at?
I didn't dare ask. I was terrified that if I asked, the truth would break me.
The car rattled and bounced down the dirt track for nearly an hour, shaking us to the bone.
At last, we pulled up in front of a dense stretch of woods. The road ended.
"Get out of the car," David said.
He turned off the engine.
Then we got out of the car.
The mountain air was fresh, filled with the smell of dirt and greenery.
But none of it made me feel any better.
It was eerily quiet. Not even a single bird was singing.
The quiet was so intense that it made me nervous.
David grabbed two backpacks from the trunk. He'd packed them long before.
He handed one to me and slung the other over his own shoulders.
The backpack was heavy. I unzipped it and took a quick look inside.
Besides food and water, there was a sleeping bag, a first aid kit, a compass, and even a folding shovel.
When did he even prepare all this?
I'd been married to him for five years, and I was completely clueless about any of this.
Just how many secrets had this man kept from me?