Rachel sat on the driver’s side. Mike was between them, still panting from his run. Cody looked across the dog’s back. Rachel was studying the dash and gears.
“Have you ever driven before?”
She turned the key. “Sure … plenty.” The sand buggy jerked forward and stopped. “Only before it’s always been on my dad’s tractor. But don’t worry. I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Reverse is over here.” Cody pointed to the floor.
“Right.” Rachel shoved it into reverse and let out the clutch and they flew backward out of the barn.
“Not so fast. Take it easy.”
The transmission made a grinding noise as she found the right gear and turned the buggy around. “There. I told you I’d get the hang of it. Which way are we going?”
“Take a right when we get to the gate. First chance we get we need to cut across open country. We’re headed for the middle of nowhere, Rachel, to visit a nice little prison camp I used to call home.” He put his head back and closed his eyes.
“I knew it. You’re him, aren’t you? The White Fox. I saw a poster on you in town. Did you really do all those things they say you did?”
Cody didn’t open his eyes. “My name is Cody Pierce. And you shouldn’t believe everything you read. Especially if it’s written by the CCR.”
“Why do they call you that? You don’t look much like a fox.” She glanced over at him. “Maybe it’s your hair. If you washed it …” The sand buggy hit a rock in the road and bounced off.
“Pay attention to your driving.” Cody opened one eye. “In fact, why don’t you turn off here? They won’t be as likely to find us if we stay off the roads.”
The sand buggy was built for rough terrain and bounced up an incline and over a sloping hill. Rachel jammed on the brakes. “Do you know how to use the guns and stuff in the backseat?”
“Yeah. Why?” Cody sat up. In front of them was a CCR patrol. And it was headed straight for them.