CL Hart -From A Distance (10 page)

Sighing deeply, Kenzie turned to look at her, "That's the answer we need to find."

Further down the road, Kenzie suddenly veered off onto a frontage road and Cori braced herself against the car door. "A little warning might have been nice," she said as they pitched back and forth inside the car.

Kenzie made no comment as she maneuvered the car toward a Pemex gas station. Cori glanced around at all the people and then back at her captor. This was the chance she'd been waiting for. There would be no way for Kenzie to stop her from fleeing without making a big scene.
Could it be as easy as that?
Her freedom and her life had seemed to be beyond negotiation, but now she might just have a chance. They rolled forward toward the pumps and a young Mexican came up next to Kenzie's door.

"Fill 'er up." He nodded with a broad smile and reached for the hose. She watched him with annoyance. "Clear the pump before you start," Kenzie said in perfect Spanish as the young man looked over the shattered, bullet-riddled car. He nodded his understanding and turned to zero out the pump before starting to fill the car.

"I'm going into the gas station to clean up...and to get a map and some supplies." Kenzie turned and looked at Cori. "You're free to go."

"What? Just like that you're letting me go?"

"Just like that...or you can choose to stay." Kenzie opened the car door and exited the vehicle. Closing the door, she leaned down and looked at a startled Cori. "But keep in mind, no one ordered a hit on me."

Cori had her hand on the door handle, but didn't move as the comment resonated in her thoughts. If she didn't stay with Kenzie, where was she going to go? A thousand unanswered questions clamored for her attention. The "who", "what", "why", and "where" seemed secondary to her absolute desire to run, but she had nowhere to go. Her eyes went to a man on a telephone next to the rundown gas station. Outside phones were commonplace in Mexico; however, one that was working was a rarity. This one obviously was and she watched the man hang up and walk away. She could make a call, but to whom?

Minutes later, Kenzie came out of the station's convenience store carrying a brown paper bag and a six-pack of bottled water. She handed the attendant some pesos for the gas and then climbed into the car.

"I guess we have an understanding." Kenzie placed her purchases into the back seat. Cori nodded reluctantly. Kenzie started up the car as she studied Cori's face for a moment. She pulled the car up next to the gas station and then turned the car off. "Go clean yourself up. I'll wait."

There was no compassion in her voice, then again, Cori had not expected any.

The dim light flickered on in the bathroom and Cori looked at her reflection in the dingy mirror. She looked tousled, dirty, and bruises were coloring her cheek and chin. Splashing some water on her face, she was briefly taken aback by the coolness of the water. She patted her face tenderly with a paper towel.
Better, but not good,
she thought as she combed her fingers through her hair. Moments later, she slid back into the passenger seat of her car.

"Thanks," she said as she snapped the seatbelt into place. "Now what?"

Kenzie didn't reply as she reached around to the paper bag in the backseat and pulled out two pairs of sunglasses. "Here." She offered a pair to Cori. "You're gonna need these."

Tired and resigned, Cori took the glasses. "Not much of a disguise."

"It's not meant to be a disguise," Kenzie said as she slid her new sunglasses into place and fired up the car. "They're for protecting your eyes. We're heading west, into the sun."

Silence fell between them. The traffic grew heavier but it was not the zany, out of control rush hour to which most North Americans were accustomed. This was Mexico, where there was a different pace for doing things, and that included driving. There were no horns honking, no tailgaters. If people wanted to pass, they flashed their lights or used their hazard lights and other cars moved out of the way. It was a different life down here, and that was what drew many people. However, it was not the pace Kenzie was used to, and the trudging traffic only added to her frustration and aggravation. In utter exasperation, she slammed her hand down on the horn.

"That won't help any," Cori said. "People aren't in a hurry here, and they sure don't pay much attention to horns."

Kenzie swung the car out and around a slow moving farm truck and squeezed in front of it, barely missing an oncoming taxi.

"Jesus, that was close. Are you still trying to kill me?" Cori said as she looked over her shoulder at the taxi speeding away.

"I'm not trying to kill anyone," Kenzie said quietly.

"Really? Or did you mean at this moment?"

Kenzie didn't respond to the sardonic comments. As the car turned onto Highway 15, Cori looked back at the city of Guadalajara. "The way I've got it figured is..." she finally said, "you said you were following orders, and there are only so many kinds of people who get those kinds of orders. Organized crime, but I highly doubt that, so either you're military or you're government."

There was a long moment of silence before Kenzie finally answered, "Yeah." There was hesitancy in her voice.

It was an answer, but not the answer Cori was expecting. She wanted more. She turned to look at the woman driving her car. "Well, which is it?"

Kenzie contemplated the question for a moment before she answered, "Both."

Settling more comfortably into her seat, Cori focused her eyes on the road. "Whose?" she finally asked.

Kenzie's grip tightened on the steering wheel and the muscles of her forearms flexed. "Whose do you think?"

Cori didn't want to think about that, not if the answers were as scary as the questions. It just couldn't be possible that someone had put out a hit on her, but if it was, then... "I don't understand. Why would they want me dead?" Her head hurt. "That doesn't make sense."

"You're telling me."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The little car's motor vibrated roughly, the tires clicked rhythmically over the cement highway as they headed westward - away from the city, and headfirst into the unknown.

Cori broke the silence. "So now what?"

"I'm not really sure. I'm kinda making this up as we go."

"Great, that makes me feel a whole lot better."

The morning sun rose high and hot as the landscape around them became less populated and more humid. With the car windows missing, there was no use trying to use the air conditioning and the heat became stifling. Kenzie pulled her paper bag of supplies from the back seat; a mix of fruit, nuts, and some packaged jerky, and offered it to Cori. She refused and Kenzie didn't push it. She knew hunger would win Cori over - eventually.

Kenzie was right, but it was well into the afternoon before Cori reached for a piece of fruit. Peeling the skin from an orange gave Cori something to do as she watched the Sierra Madres in the hazy distance.

"Where are we heading?" Cori asked as she noted the sign indicating they had crossed over from the Central Time Zone into the Mountain Time Zone.

"Mazatlan," Kenzie answered.

"Mazatlan? Why not Puerto Vallarta? It has an international airport like Guadalajara." She bit into the fruit, painfully splitting her already sore lip.

"Because we're not flying."

"But I thought we - were we not waiting for a plane back there before you shot that guy?"

Kenzie pulled the map out from behind the sun visor and glanced over it.

"Are we not flying back to the States?"

"No." Kenzie stowed the map back to its previous location.

"But I thought you said-"

"You'd do better to think more about why someone would want you dead than to focus on what I might have said."

Cori repeatedly ran her fingers through her honey-colored hair as she thought about Kenzie's admonition.

The calm Kenzie was exhibiting was a far cry from the turmoil inside her. The quiet gave her time to think, but the longer she thought, the more she realized how bad their situation was - little money, no ID, and no idea where they were going or what they were going to do once they got there. The situation was grim, and something told her it was not going to get better any time soon.

The wheels on the road were turning as fast as Kenzie's mind was searching for answers neither of them had. The silence grew heavy in the car. Trained to be detached, Kenzie did whatever needed to be done without thinking about the human cost. Nevertheless, she was starting to realize she was still human after all. She felt sorry for Cori and the position she had put her in.

"The reason we can't fly," Kenzie said suddenly, breaking the silent tension in the car, "is that we don't have tickets. In order for us to get tickets, we would need to show ID. You can't show yours because that would tip off whoever is after you, and I can't show ID because...well, I can't show ID. So we're going to have to drive."

Cori gingerly touched her sore face. "Drive...all the way!"

"I figure our best bet is to take the ferry out of Mazatlan to La Paz, then up the Baja to Tijuana and over the border to San Diego."

"All the way to San Diego," Cori said in disbelief. "That's like...a thousand miles."

Kenzie glanced at her watch. She was hoping they would reach Mazatlan by sundown. "Pretty close. I figure it's about 900 miles, give or take a few."

"How long is that going to take us?"

"A few days."

Cori leaned back against her seat. "But what about the border? We'll need ID there, won't we - ID and visitors' visas or passports?"

"I've got a connection in Tijuana." Kenzie had reviewed every available avenue of escape, but they were in a foreign country, a country that required proper identification. They wouldn't be able to use Cori's because that would send a red flag to whomever was behind the hit, and as far as she herself went...

With a sigh, Kenzie put her elbow on the window's edge and rested her head on her hand. She wasn't even sure she had enough money with her to make it out of Mexico, never mind to buy ID for someone who didn't exist. She knew what that meant, but was hoping they wouldn't have to deal with it until they reached Tijuana - if they were lucky.

As they drew closer to the coast, the lush green vegetation began to change. At her first glimpse of the distant waters, Cori sat up at little straighter in her seat. "There it is."

"What?" Kenzie asked as she wiped the ever-present sweat from her brow and dried it on her pants.

"The ocean."

Kenzie glanced over at her for a moment before she commented, "You act like you've never seen it before."

"I've seen it, but I'm originally from Missouri, so it's always a big deal." She sat back down in her seat, a little self-conscious and taken aback.

"Missouri?"

"Born and raised."

"Whereabouts?" Kenzie asked.

"Springfield, Missouri."

"Your family still there?"

"My mom. My dad died when I was a kid, so it was just mom and me for the most part. She's still there."

"And let me guess, you were a cheerleader at Springfield High," Kenzie said derisively.

"Actually, well...yes, but I went to school at Kickapoo High-"

"Kickapoo?" Kenzie asked with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, Kickapoo, or Kick-a-shit as we used to say," she said with a chuckle, forgetting for a moment where she was. "Kickapoo. It was named that because of where it was located, Kickapoo Prairie. It has a whole Indian background thing and...anyhow, it's where Brad Pitt went to school."