Page 14 of The Hitchhikers

“Sit at the picnic table where I can see you,” Tom said.

“Let us go,” Simon said, “and you never have to see us again.”

“Sit your asses down!”

Simon grabbed Jenny’s hand and drew her toward the table. She was crying in loud heaving gulps. Alice felt strangely lightheaded, her breathing too fast. She tried to move closer to Tom, but the tip of her sandal caught on the lawn chair, and she stumbled into him, knocking him off-balance. The gun swung with his body—pointing toward the woods.

Simon rushed toward them, a blur in the dark, heavy footsteps, and then anoofsound as he tackled Tom. The flashlight dropped and the men rolled out of the yellow beam, but Alice could hear fists smacking into flesh. Grunts. Swearing. They wrestled back into view.

The gun was no longer in Tom’s hands—it wasn’t in Simon’s either.

Alice pounced on the flashlight and shone it around. Where had the gun gone? Tom was astride Simon, pinning his arms. Simon was twisting and heaving. Alice had lost sight of Jenny in the chaos—she only noticed her as she stepped through the beam of light. Something was in her hand—a block of wood. She hit Tom’s back with it, then lifted it up to hit him again.

Alice rushed at her, circling her arm around her chest, and yanked her backward. Simon had broken free and was crawling toward the RV steps. The gun was lying nearby.

Tom chased after him. Simon rolled onto his side and kicked at Tom’s feet, tripping him. He landed with a hard thud. They were fighting on the ground again.

Simon had Tom’s arm twisted behind his body. A strange sound. A snap, and Tom screamed. Alice wanted to run to him, but she was holding Jenny back.

Simon had the gun. Now he was standing over Tom, kicking him—in the nose, mouth, head. Tom rolled over and was crawling away. Simon kicked him so hard in the rib cage that it lifted Tom partly up and knocked him onto his side. Then he kicked him in the groin. Tom gagged and curled into a ball. Simon was now kicking his legs, the thuds loud.

Alice let go of Jenny and ran for Simon, jumping onto his back. He shook her free and she fell to the ground, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Simon!” Jenny’s voice was shrill. “Stop!”

Simon finally stopped. His breath was ragged as he looked back and forth between Alice and Tom, the gun moving each time he inhaled. Alice stayed still, gasping for her own breath.

“That was stupid,” Simon said. “We would have left you alone. Now we can’t.”

Ice shot through Alice’s chest, freezing the air in her lungs. Dread slithered down her spine. He was going to kill them. They would take them somewhere. Somewhere remote.

Simon turned to Jenny. “Toss that flashlight over here.”

Jenny bent over and picked up the flashlight. As she passed it to Simon, it shone on Tom, who was crumpled into a ball. His face glistened with blood.

“My shoulder…” Tom’s voice was strained like he was gritting his teeth and trying not to scream. He might pass out. She’d never be able to lift him.

“I have to help him!”

“Do anything stupid and I’ll kick the shit out of him again.”

Alice crawled over and tried to help Tom roll into a sitting position. He groaned with each movement, panting hard, and made an agonized gasp when she touched his ribs. Finally, he was able to get to his knees. She put her shoulder under his good arm to support him as he stood.

Simon swung the gun back and forth between Alice and Tom.

“Point that at the ground,” Tom hissed.

“You aren’t giving the orders anymore, man,” Simon said. “Get in the RV.”

Tom climbed the steps, one arm dangling. Alice helped him to the bed and eased him onto the mattress. His face was ashen, his skin clammy. Was he going into shock? She didn’t know what to do. Simon and Jenny hovered in the doorway.

Alice lifted Tom’s shirt up. Angry red marks covered his stomach and ribs. Some were splotchy and round, like badly drawn islands on a map. On Tom’s arm, she could make out tread marksfrom when Simon was kicking him. Did he stand on his arm? Trying to break it?

Alice couldn’t tell if any ribs were broken, but Tom’s breath sounded so labored she was scared he could be bleeding internally. She pulled the strap of Tom’s tank top away from his neck—and started to cry at the sight of the bulging bone. It was nearly poking through the skin and swelling rapidly. She tried to blink back the tears—she didn’t want to scare Tom.

“Collarbone?” Tom wheezed between shallow breaths.

She nodded and looked at Simon. “Please. Tylenol. It’s in the bathroom—and ice.”