Tail Spin

the bleeding’s stopped.”
    His head listed to the side, then he straightened. “All right, let me take a look at your car. Maybe it’s something easy I can fix.”
    Probably not, Rachael thought. Nothing was easy in her life.

FIVE
    As Jack straightened, he grazed his head on the raised hood and thought he’d pass out. He grabbed the dirty fender, closed his eyes tight, and let the world spin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, being laid flat again; it might save his head from exploding. He felt her arms come around his chest to prop him up. She said, “Hold still for a moment. That’s right, I’ve got you.”
    When he finally got himself together and pulled away, she said, “Are you okay?”
    “Better days,” he said, “like yesterday. Thanks.”
    She grinned up at him, and wanted to say, Me too. “Can you tell what’s wrong with my car? Can you fix it?”
    “Any chance you’re out of gas?”
    “Nope. I filled up in Hamilton.”
    “Okay, the hoses look okay. Crank the car.”
    She turned the ignition, but nothing happened. She tried again, still nothing.
    “Okay, there’s no fuel coming out of the fuel line. Your fuel pump’s busted. It’s got to be replaced. I wish I could jury-rig it, but I can’t. That sign says we’re in a town called Parlow. Is it big enough to have a decent mechanic?”
    She nodded. “Yeah, population’s maybe three thousand. It’s only a mile up the road. Is a fuel pump major?”
    “Nah, and it’s not too expensive.”
    “I was starting to walk to Parlow when I heard your plane coughing and sputtering. You said it was a bomb. I don’t understand.”
    Now didn’t he have a big mouth? “I was probably wrong. It’s over, don’t worry about it.” He tried his cell again, knowing there wasn’t magically going to be a signal when there hadn’t been one the last dozen times he’d tried.
    Sure enough, no signal.
    She said, “Right, I won’t worry my pretty little head about it. You moron.”
    He somehow managed a grin over the grinding pain in his head. “No one’s called me a moron since I forgot the condoms and Louise Draper walked out on me.”
    “Well, there you go,” she said. “Forget the cell phone. It’s the mountains, and too few towers out here, like I said.”
    “Okay, then, Parlow, Kentucky, here we come.” He looked once again at Timothy, still unconscious on the backseat, his face ghostly pale. But Timothy was alive, thank God, and Jack just had to keep him that way. At present, that was a pretty big joke—he was nearly ready to fall facedown onto the blacktop.
    This was all she needed, Rachael thought, but what else could she do? She couldn’t leave this man here to fend for himself. Okay, so she’d arrive at Slipper Hollow later rather than sooner, no problem. Since Uncle Gillette didn’t know she was coming, he wouldn’t worry. She said, “I don’t think there’s anything more either of us can do except make it to Parlow and get some help.”
    “Have you been here before?”
    For the barest instant, her face froze before she said, “No, I haven’t.”
    He studied her through a haze of pain, watching her hair curtain her face as she looked down, that braid cupping her cheek, then slowly nodded. “It’s okay, I haven’t, either.” He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen the shock of panic in her eyes, heard the lie, and wasn’t that strange? Who cared if she’d been in a little town in Kentucky? He ran his fingers through his dark hair, making it stand on end. “Parlow’s bound to have medical facilities, an ambulance.”
    “Seems likely,” she said, and the way she said it—too studied— another lie.
    Parlow would have a police chief or a sheriff, Jack thought. He really didn’t want to involve local law enforcement, but given his and Timothy’s current condition, he doubted he’d have a choice.
    Walking beside the two-lane road was slow going. Jack was a big man and she had to take a lot of his weight to keep him upright and moving. After twenty steps, Rachael, now panting, said, “Stop a moment.” She leaned him against an oak tree beside the road. “This rest stop is as much for me as it is for you. Okay, okay, we don’t have much farther to go, we can do it.”
    “Sorry, I forgot, what’s your name again?”
    “Rachael—ah, well, last names aren’t really important, are they?”
    His cop antennae flashed red again even though the Devil was pounding nails into his head. At least his leg was hurting a bit less