Page 1 of Blood Ties

Riley

W e’re smack dab in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas, when the engine lets out its death rattle. The car rolls to a stop. For a few moments, the silence is broken only by the tinny music playing from my phone — necessary because the stereo system on this junker doesn’t work, of course.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, shutting off the music.

Felix slams his hands on the steering wheel, cursing. The whole car shakes with his anger. He’s normally a laid-back guy; it’s easy to forget he’s built like a linebacker until moments like this.

“Jesus Christ,” Caleb says from the backseat, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What’s wrong with the piece of shit now?”

“Don’t call my car a piece of shit, man!” Felix shoots back.

“Oh God, there’s no service,” May says from beside Caleb in the back. She leans out the open window and waves her phone in the air with a dramatic whine.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This was supposed to be a fun Spring Break.

All of us road-tripping from the University of Austin to L.A.

for a three-day weekend full of indie music and far too much alcohol.

I should’ve known better than to let Felix drive us, but nobody else stepped up.

May’s tiny little Mini Cooper can’t fit us, Caleb is famously paranoid about his car, and I don’t have one.

Now, here we are. We were hoping to make it to Arizona tonight to stay on schedule and arrive in L.A. on Thursday, but it looks like that isn’t going to happen.

“I wouldn’t call it a piece of shit if it wasn’t a piece of shit,” Caleb continues.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t still driving your fuckin’ dad’s car everywhere—”

I shut my eyes and sigh, wishing I could close out the boys’ bickering and May’s complaints.

The car was already an oven with barely working air conditioning, and without wind coming through the open windows, the temperature swiftly climbs.

When it’s clear Felix’s attempts to start it again aren’t working, I grimace, open my door, and hop out onto the side of the road.

I fold my hands behind my head and look around.

There’s nothing but the winding highway, empty except for our now-dead car, and stretches of desert in every direction.

Not even a tree in sight to provide shade, just withered little shrubs crouched low in the dust. I even see — I shit you not — a tumbleweed rolling by in the distance.

This truly is the middle of nowhere. Except—there, on the horizon, I spot the silhouette of a building. A glimpse of civilization.

I take my phone out, squint at the screen through the glare of sunlight. No service, just like May said. And while it’s annoying to have the sun beating down, in a couple hours it’ll set, and night will bring us worse problems.

I push sweaty hair out of my face, walk over to the car, and open my door again.

Heat and shouting spill out into the empty desert.

The argument has only grown worse in my absence, Felix and Caleb snipping back and forth at each other with increasing volume.

May slumps in the backseat, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Guys,” I say. I snap my fingers. “Guys. Hey . We better start walking if you don’t want to sleep out here.” I point at the building on the horizon, and after another few moments, the boys’ argument dies off as they both follow my finger.

“Fuck, seriously?” Caleb groans. “That’s like, an hour’s walk.”

“Yep. So if we want to do it with sunlight, we better start soon,” I say.

“I’m not leaving my car,” Felix argues, his hands clenched around the wheel. It may be a piece of junk, but it’s also his baby. He fixed it up himself, got it running with his own grease-stained hands.

“Your piece of shit car is what got us into this—” Caleb starts.

“It’s not like anyone is going to steal it,” I interject before he can start the argument anew.

When Felix turns his glare on me, I gesture at the empty road around us.

“Nobody’s around, and even if they were, the car’s not going anywhere till we get it fixed.

” He still doesn’t look convinced. Frustration boils inside of me, but I know how he gets about his car, so I soften my tone.

“It’s not going to start running on its own, Felix. We need to find a mechanic ASAP.”

He sighs, takes the keys out of the ignition, and pockets them. “Fine.”

“What about our stuff?” May chimes in. “We can’t just leave it here.”

“Well, grab your valuables, obviously,” I say. “But I doubt anyone’s gonna smash the windows to steal our suitcases.”

Her nose wrinkles. “You never know. Some pervert redneck could come by and steal my panties.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m more concerned about Caleb’s weed, but... bring whatever you want to bring.” My thumb points at the building again. “You’re gonna have to lug it all the way there, though.”

There’s a lot of grumbling, but after about ten minutes, we’re all standing on the highway.

I grabbed my backpack, stuffed with vitals including my phone, wallet, and a toothbrush, in case we need to spend the night somewhere.

Plus a couple of books, of course, because God only knows how long it’ll take to get the car fixed up.

The boys have shoved most of their stuff into their pockets, and Felix carries our last jug of emergency water.

May, however, insisted on dragging her entire suitcase out of the trunk.

I eye her, but decide it’s not my problem.

We all know Felix is going to end up carrying it for her at some point, but if he’s not complaining, then I’m not getting involved.

“Okay,” I sigh, “Let’s get going.”

There are some stilted attempts at conversation as we walk along.

Felix muses about what’s wrong with his car, and May hopes aloud that we won’t be late for the music festival.

But soon silence falls as we all focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Even with the sun sinking toward the distant mountains, it’s hot out here.

My shirt sticks to my back and my mouth goes dry.

I grab the water from Felix, but it does little to quench the feeling.

It’s like my whole body is being slowly sapped of moisture.

About halfway through our walk, the desert around us is dyed red by the setting sun, and not a single car has passed by.

It’s eerie out here. So isolated that I’m not sure it even has a name on a map.

I really hope the building ahead isn’t just some abandoned old relic.

If we’re really on our own out here, we’re screwed. Heat like this can kill.

We all rest and pass around the water jug.

Felix takes a hold of May’s giant suitcase, and she gives him an apologetic smile.

We’re all too tired to speak. Even Caleb, who is notorious for having an opinion about everything, just spends the brief reprieve cleaning his glasses and catching his breath.

I wipe sweat off of my forehead and finish the last of the water when it’s passed to me.

When I lower it, I catch a glimpse of something on the horizon, and break into a smile.

“Look!” I point toward the building we’ve been heading for.

As the sun sets, neon lights have flickered on like a beacon in the night. “Civilization!”

“Oh, thank God,” Caleb groans, and starts loping along with renewed energy. The rest of us are close behind.

“I think that sign says ‘bar,’” Felix says.

“Hallelujah,” May whispers, a new bounce in her step.

The second half of our trek passes much more quickly with that light waiting for us on the horizon.

But the closer we get, the more my relief twists into anxiety.

Civilization might be a strong word for what we’re walking into.

There’s nothing nearby except for a single gas station that looks like a great place to get stabbed. .. and a church, right beside the bar.

The bar itself is a rickety old dive that seems more likely to give me tetanus than a decent cocktail.

And once we stagger into the parking lot, the sparse collection of beat-up trucks does not inspire positive thoughts about the clientele.

Loud country music spills out of the open door, and there’s no bouncer outside to check IDs.

Maybe I’m being too judgmental. But May slows down and slides her fingers into mine as we get closer, and she’s usually the bold one.

At least we have the boys as a buffer. Especially Felix, with those big shoulders and southern charm. Even Caleb has the good sense to hang back and let Felix lead the way.

The smell of the place hits me first: stale beer and cigarettes and a faint tang of sweat.

We’re definitely contributing to the last bit after our walk, but still, I can’t help but wrinkle my nose as my sneakers stick to the linoleum floor.

The back of my neck burns. Eyes watch us from the ramshackle wooden stools at the bar, and the booths lining the wall, and the pool table in the center of the room.

This is clearly a local watering hole, and the locals in attendance are overwhelmingly male.

My skin itches at the scrutiny. I wish I was wearing more than the lacy black crop-top and high-waisted shorts I threw on for the car ride. I clear my throat, and slide my phone out of my pocket to check if I have any bars yet. No dice.

“Hey there,” Felix says, approaching the bar with a broad grin, still lugging May’s suitcase behind him.

“We were just passing through and...” He leans in to talk to the bartender, a grizzled old man with a suspicious squint in his eye.

The mournful wail of country music drowns out the rest of the conversation.

Caleb sidles up behind Felix, folding his arms over his thin chest.