Ten

Endurance must be earned. It can’t be bought or bestowed. As a runner, I’ve learned that endurance comes only through repetition, persistence, and pain. As a runaway, I’ve learned the same thing.

I realize, as I approach the entrance ramp to the highway, that I am losing my endurance.

I could run forever—this I will always know. But I’m not sure I can travel one more step.

Until I stopped in Lithia, I’d been seamlessly moving from town to town, my senses dulled to a life of hard beds, or no beds. Bad food or no food. Wet clothes or worn clothes. My endurance allowed me to deflect the taunts I encountered along the way. The rude people and the scary ones. If anything, I knew I could always outrun them. And I thought I’d be able to keep running forever.

But now I feel weak and cold and sad. I know I have to leave, but I also know that I don’t want to. I don’t want to start all over again. I don’t want to reach the interstate, just a few hundreds yards ahead now, and to choose north or south. Seattle or San Francisco.

I begin to slow down, to delay my decision. After I left Houston, I realized exactly where I was headed. Lithia. The town I was born in. The town I remember from my earliest years. But now, I have nowhere left to go.

I feel raindrops. Perfect. Let it rain and soak me to the bone. Maybe this is the only way for me to rebuild my endurance.

Still not sure which direction to take, I decide to let fate make the call for me. Instead of choosing an entrance ramp, I will find a driver before I reach the highway. If the driver is headed north, I’ll go north. If I get a ride south, I’ll go south. I’m too exhausted to make the decision myself. The last decision, leaving Lithia, has been hard enough.

I stand tall and turn toward the traffic. I raise my thumb.

~

It’s late, and the cars are few and far between. The rain picks up, and it isn’t long before my clothes become completely drenched and stick to me like a second skin. My teeth won’t stop chattering, and my raised thumb is shaking from the cold.

I’ve turned down three rides in the last hour or so, and now I’m wondering whether I should have risked taking them. But I haven’t made it this far by being careless. The first two were trucks driven by scruffy, bearded men who just gave me the creeps. I’ve learned to trust my gut instincts, and I let them go. But I wasn’t soaking wet then, and twenty minutes later, another driver pulled over, an older man who seemed harmless enough. He offered to take me where he was going, two towns north of here, and by then I was ready to escape the rain. Yet as I was thinking about it, he looked me over, told me I was looking fine, and I changed my mind pretty fast.

I know I shouldn’t be out here at all. All the other times I’ve held out my thumb have been during the day, and I’ve only accepted rides with women or families. Even that is no guarantee of safety, but in smaller towns like this, it’s easier to find people to take pity on a small-boned girl standing by the side of the road. I’ve never ridden alone with a strange man, and I don’t plan to start, even if it means standing here in the rain all night.

And I’m feeling as though that just might be my fate when a woman pulls over in a VW Bug. I’m so happy to see her that I almost hop in before asking where she’s headed. But she’s only traveling another mile up the road, which would leave me nowhere in particular and too far from the highway, so I have to let her go.

By now I’m so discouraged, standing here like a wet dog, my toes squishing around in my Brooks, water dripping from my hair, my sleeves, that I don’t even look over when I see, out of the corner of my eye, another car pull over. I can’t imagine anyone who’d want me in her car at this point anyway, only to get everything as soaking wet as I am.

But the car idles next to me, and this makes me nervous. I begin to walk and it pulls forward. I glance over to see an ancient-looking Subaru, and just then the passenger-side door opens, as if to invite me in.

I’m wondering whether I should run when I see that the car is smothered in bumper stickers like SAVE THE WHALES and MEAT IS MURDER. Then the driver says my name. I bend down to see who it is.

Alex. I should’ve recognized him by his car alone.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Looking for you,” he says. “David couldn’t find you, and your room was cleaned out. So here I am.”

“You’ve wasted your time,” I say. “Go home.”

“Kat, please get in.”

“I can’t,” I say. “Unless you’re headed someplace far from here.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“Is this because of Stacey?”

I say nothing. I feel the rain pelting my head and want nothing more than to get into the car.

“Kat, you can’t blame yourself. Nobody else does.”

“David asked me to stay close to her. And I didn’t. After all they did for me—this is how I repay them.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I left her on that trail, alone.”

“Suppose you were right there with her,” he says. “Do you think you’d have saved her?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you’d both be dead. Have you considered that?”

“I wish that were the case.”

“If you won’t stay for your own sake,” he says, “then stay for me. I don’t want you to go.”

“Alex, please. Just leave me alone.”

“I’m not going to let you run away.”

“I’m not running away.” He makes it sound so horrible, like this is even worse than what I’ve already done. And all I’m trying to do is keep from making things worse.

“Then what do you call this, exactly? You’re hitchhiking in the dead of night in the rain. You’re leaving David all alone just when he needs his friends the most. If you feel so guilty about this, after all he’s done for you, then why don’t you stick around and try to help instead of leaving?”

I glare at him, and I really hate him just now, mostly because he’s got a point and I can’t find any way to dispute it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should stay. Maybe I should try to make up for what I did. But I can’t help but feel that nothing good can come of my staying in Lithia.

“Just get in the car with me,” he says. “We’ll go back to town, and you’ll get through this.”

The rain has picked up, and I’m more tempted than ever to get into Alex’s beat-up old car. It looks warm, dry, comfortable, and Alex is still watching me, leaning over the gearshift, waiting for my answer.

But I don’t deserve his kindness. I step away from the car.

“Kat—” he begins.

And just then, a car pulls up behind his, stopping just short of the Subaru’s rear bumper. It’s a black, late-model BMW. Roman is behind the wheel.

He opens the door and steps out. He’s wearing a slick black raincoat and doesn’t seem bothered by the rain. He looks at me with those piercing dark eyes.

“It looks as though you need a lift,” he says.

“Move along, Roman,” Alex says. “This is none of your business.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, tree-hugger,” Roman says, then turns back to me. “Katherine, you need to get out of this rain.”

“What I need is to get out of Lithia,” I say, taking another step backward.

“Very well,” he says. “Get in. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Don’t do it, Kat,” Alex says sharply. He gets out of the car and in a flash is standing next to me. His face has changed, and he looks uneasy, frightened even. He reaches for my arm, but I pull it back.

“What’s it to you?” I ask.

“I can’t explain why,” he says in a low voice. “Just come with me.”

I look over toward Roman, who is standing next to his car. He doesn’t seem at all concerned about Alex or what he might be telling me. “Well, you’ll have to do better than that if you want me to go back with you.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“You’ve mentioned that. And I’ve told you that I can take care of myself.”

“Look, Kat, when I told you he’d suck the life out of you, I wasn’t being metaphorical.” Alex leans in and whispers, “Roman is a vampire.”

“What?” I laugh, unable to stop myself; it’s so absurd. And then I look at Alex, waiting for him to smile, to laugh with me—but he does nothing but stare back at me, his face completely serious.

“Alex, I don’t know what your problem is with Roman,” I say. “But you’re being ridiculous. I’m not listening to this anymore.”

Alex grabs my arm again, firmly, and I can’t pull it back.

“I’m not letting you leave with him.”

“Are you jealous, is that it?” I ask him. “You think making up bizarre stories about Roman is going to convince me to give myself over to you instead?”

“It’s not that at all,” Alex says. “I’m afraid for you. And you should be, too.”

“This is insane. Let me go.”

“I won’t let go that easily.”

“Let go!” Using all my strength, I yank my arm back and turn around, to walk back toward Roman, to his waiting car. But I’m surprised to find him standing right behind me, poised, on edge, as if about to take me from Alex if I hadn’t been able to wrest myself away. Both men are staring at each other with eyes I haven’t seen before. Both look as if they are ready to fight to the death. Over me?

It’s all so strange, it’s starting to feel like a dream.

“Come on, Roman,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

I walk to his car, get in, and close the car door. The world goes silent. I’ve never been in a car like this before. It’s like being in a house, with classical music on the stereo, warm air flowing from somewhere.

Roman gets in, and as he pulls away, I watch Alex in the side-view mirror. He’s getting back into his own car, and I wonder if he’ll try to follow us. But when Roman hits the gas, I can see that there’s no way Alex will be able to keep up in his old Subaru.

I lean my head back and close my eyes and breathe. I hear a drip and realize that it’s me, that I’m dripping water all over the seat, the armrest, the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m making a mess of your car.”

“It’s nothing. Are you warm enough?”

“Compared to a few minutes ago, this is heaven.” I slip off my shoes to give them a chance to dry. “Thank you for picking me up.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“I’m not sure. I was going to go wherever my ride was going.”

“Well, we’re headed north,” he says, and I look out the window to see the two white-starred lanes of the highway. “I could take you to Eugene, Portland, Seattle. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Seattle? You would do that for me?”

“Of course.”

I can’t believe my luck. After almost two hours in the rain, I have a warm, comfortable ride; a safe ride.

But then I wonder why he’s so eager to get rid of me. Why, after asking me out, he suddenly wants to take me hundreds of miles away from where he lives. And I can’t help but hear the echo of Alex’s words: He’s dangerous.

“Do you want to take me all the way to Seattle?” I ask.

“It’s up to you. Why do you ask?”

“I guess I’m confused, that’s all.”

Maybe I’m projecting, but he seems to know what I’m saying, and he reaches over and puts his hand on mine.

“Katherine, we’re loners, you and I. We are fiercely independent, or, as some might stay, simply stubborn. I will honor your wishes because I know that I could not change your mind, even if honoring your wish is not my wish. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I do.”

Suddenly, I am not so sure I want to leave after all. Not so sure I want to leave Roman behind. My head is feeling light, and I lean it back on the headrest with a sigh. “How can I stay in Lithia, after everything that’s happened?” I ask aloud.

“You can stay with me. There are plenty of empty rooms in which to hide.”

“It’s all my fault.” I feel tears welling up.

“You did not kill that woman, of that much I am certain. “

“I know. But somebody did.”

“A bear.”

“That’s what they say. Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Then I decide to trust him. We are alike, after all, in many ways. Maybe he’ll understand. “I thought I heard a voice. A man’s voice. Up in the woods, right before.”

Roman lifts his hand off of mine and returns it to the steering wheel.

“And there’s this park ranger who doesn’t think these attacks have been from bears.”

A pause. “What does he think?”

“He didn’t say.” Now what I’ve just said seems as ridiculous as what Alex had told me just a little while ago. Serial killers. Vampires. Where do they come up with these things? Maybe there’s something more in the water around here than lithium.

“Maybe he’s just crazy,” I say. “Maybe I am, too.”

“We’re all a little bit crazy.”

“It’s not that I want to leave Lithia,” I say, sleepily. “I just don’t want to make things any worse. To do more damage than I already have.”

“Are you talking about Stacey, or our first date?”

I look at him, and he is smirking ever so slightly.

“That’s not funny, Roman. Everyone loved Stacey.”

“As did I,” he says. “I suppose I view death a little differently than most. The cycle of life and death is not something we should fear more than we accept.”

“Well, I can’t accept it. Especially when it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t left her on that trail.”

“Remember what Alex said. If you’d been with her, you might not be here yourself.”

I haven’t slept for nearly two days, and I feel my body crashing and rising, floating and drifting. I am drifting into sleep, on a tide so rapid I barely register what Roman has said. That he was not there when Alex said it. That there is no way he could have known what Alex had told me.

But I can’t bring myself to speak; I am too far over the edge of sleep. What’s left of my endurance fades into complete darkness.