Running Toward Home

Chapter Eleven ~ The Long Road (PART 1)

The highway stretched endlessly before her, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting a golden haze over the asphalt.

Lyn’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. They had been driving for two days and had made it 1,100 miles. Their old lives were now so far away, but still, Lyn didn’t feel like she could relax just yet.

Juni rested her head against the passenger seat, her small fingers still clutching her cherished stuffed bunny. Emma leaned against the window, staring silently at the passing trees, her chestnut hair falling in soft waves.

The car was old, worn, and a little too small for comfort, but it ran, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Her heart thumped with a mixture of relief and dread. Relief that they were moving, that they were free for now. Dread that at any moment, someone, Ethan, Vivian, or someone working for them could trace them.

Soon, it had been nearly three weeks since she had left the town that had once been home. Three weeks of constant movement, constant vigilance, and constant fear.

She had done exactly what she was instructed to. She sold her first car as she made it 1100 miles West, using the cash from it to buy another.

That one had lasted three days before she realized it was too recognizable, too traceable. She had sold it the next day and purchased yet another vehicle.

By the time she got the car, she now drove. It had been three changes, three towns, and thousands of nervous miles.

Her plan was simple, she was to travel West until she hit the coast, and as soon as she did, sell her car, then head South East. Never passing in the same states.

The tracphone the secretary had slipped into her purse was a lifeline, though one she barely touched. The lawyer had instructed her to use it sparingly, only to make emergency calls, to avoid leaving digital footprints that could lead anyone to them. Every time she glanced at it, she felt a shiver, a reminder of how fragile their safety really was.

Her stomach pressed against the seatbelt uncomfortably. The baby, her youngest, the one that had almost been stolen before it had even been born, was now roughly 20 weeks along, a constant, quiet reminder of why she couldn’t falter. Every kick, every flutter, was a tiny heartbeat she had to protect.

They settled into the back seat for the day. Lyn knew they weren’t safe traveling the way they were, and so she was taking every precaution she could. Including sleeping in the morning and afternoon. It seemed safer that way. They couldn’t get a motel yet. They had to wait until they got to where they would stay. Until then, it was truck stops for showers and back seat slumber parties. Which thankfully the girls loved.

The girls were quiet now, fatigue settling over them like a heavy blanket. Emma’s forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the window, her eyelids heavy. Juni’s fingers were entwined with Lyn’s as she fought off sleep as well, murmuring softly.

Lyn’s mind kept ticking, calculating. Gas stations, food stops, places to sleep, every decision had to be deliberate, every choice a step toward safety.

Money was running low. They had spent more than half of the cash she had managed to scrape together selling her things, and every dollar had been stretched tight. She knew there were towns where people would glance too long, ask questions, remember a face, and report it. She could not afford mistakes. She didn’t just have to make money last, but she had to find the safest place for her babies.

(To Be Continued)