That Old Chevrolet
Tris Moore | Michael Ilkiw
The car sputtered, stalled, and then stopped.
The rain beat down on the roof and the heater shut off. Their breath fogged up the windows, the lights fading until they sat in the dark.
He held his hands at 10 and 2 on the leather steering wheel, clutching tight with every shake of thunder and every crack of lightening. He stared straight ahead, unseeing at the darkness.
“What, Sam?” He asked the young woman sitting in the back seat.
“What’s going on?” Sam climbed across the console to the passenger seat.
“The engine stalled.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yeah, when the rain stops.” Dean pulled out his cell to check the weather. “We’re going to be here for a while though.”
“The rain isn’t supposed to let up til’ morning.” Dean leaned his chair back and crossed his arms behind his head.
“So…we’re just staying here?”
“Yep.” Dean closed his eyes.
“‘Cause I ain’t walking in the rain. That’s why.”
Sam rolled her eyes, climbing in the back seat, making sure to kick Dean in the ribs when she did.
“We’ll never make it in time if we don’t get back on the road soon.” Sam kicked the back of his seat.
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
“How am I supposed to sleep when it’s cold?”
“Use this.” Dean threw a blanket in the back.
“Where did you get this?” Sam asked, laying down and covering up with the blanket.
“The passenger seat.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“That’s ‘cause you were sitting on it.” Dean turned around when she didn’t respond and laughed. “And you fall asleep on me. So much for your objections.”
Dean settled back in, the rain hitting the ground lulling him into a state of relaxation.
Tomorrow is going to be hell if we don’t reach the line in time. He pulled his phone out, looking at the map. We’ve still got nearly a day’s drivin’ left and they’re going to realize we’re gone any moment now. When they do…the hunt will be on.
“Dean…” Sam opened her eyes, startling Dean.
“What?” He dropped his phone in his lap.
“Do you think they’re going to catch us?”
“But what if they do?” Sam brought the blanket up to her face. “What if they take me?”
“I won’t let them. You need to rest.”
“How do I rest when you won’t?”
“I have to wait for the rain to stop to get us back on the road.”
“I can wait with you.”
“I’m seriously considering strangling you right now.”
“Shut up, you won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“‘Cause I said so.” Sam smiled.
Dean shook his head and picked his phone back up. He’d left a tracker on their car and a bug in all of their phones, tied to an app he’d created. When they left, made a call, he would know.
The phone vibrated and a notification appeared.
They’d dialed 911.
The police would be there soon. The investigation would start and then the hunt.
He looked out at the rain beating down, no signs of releasing anytime soon.
He didn’t have the time to let it stop either.
He pulled the collar of his leather jacket up and pushed the door open against the strong winds, letting it slam close behind him.
He peered in the back window. Sam didn’t even budge.
Propping open the hood, he set to work on fixing the engine. Within an hour, he slid back into the driver’s seat and turning the key in the ignition, the car came back to life.
“Wha-? What’s going on?” Sam asked, sitting up as the engine purred.
“We’re getting back on the road.”
“It’s still raining though.”
“Yea, but they know we’re gone so I fixed it.”
“They’re coming?” Sam clutched the blanket.
“They’re going to find us. They’re going to take me back.”
“No, they’re not Sam. They won’t take either of us.” Dean pulled the car back onto the road.
“How do you know?”
“Because we’ll be long gone by then.”
“Good. I never want to go back to them.” Sam settled back into the seat.
“Neither do I. We’ll never have another foster parent again.”