Honor Bound(17)

"Now what?" Aislinn asked, tiredly. She had known instinctively that the Navaho men would be in sympathy with Greywolf, but hope had briefly glimmered at the prospect of stopping in a town.

Hope died the moment she saw the community. The streets were deserted. Except for chickens pecking on the barren ground in a yard across the highway, there were no signs of life anywhere. The town looked as unwelcoming and inhospitable as the desert that surrounded it.

Greywolf walked toward the tin building which housed the service station. Aislinn forced herself to follow him, dragging her feet. She had never been so uncomfortable in her life. The perspiration that had soaked her clothes and body while they were walking on the highway had dried now and left a gritty, salty residue on her skin that itched like mad. She was hot, sticky and sunburned. Her lips were parched, her hair a tangled mess.

She groaned when she read the sign posted on the grimy window of the service station. "Siesta!" she exclaimed mournfully.

"They're closed until four o'clock," Greywolf said, turning his head to consult the sun.

Aislinn discovered a meager sliver of shade near the wall of the building and pressed herself against it. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. They came open instantly when she heard the crash of breaking glass.

Greywolf had smashed out a window in the door with a rock. Without so much as a blink of his eyes, he reached inside and unlocked the door. It swung open with a protesting squeak and he went inside. Aislinn, who would never have considered deliberately breaking a window, much less trespassing onto anyone else's property, followed him into the marginally cooler interior.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, she saw that the place was not just a gas station, but a small grocery store as well. Wooden shelves were stocked with potato chips and canned goods, paper products and household cleansers.

There was one dusty glass counter filled with even dustier Arizona souvenirs. On top there were boxes of candy bars, cigarettes and chewing gum. Behind it, the pegboard wall was covered with an inventory of small automotive parts.

Greywolf crossed the aged wooden floor, which protested each of his footsteps with a groan, to an old-fashioned cold-drink vending chest. Lifting the lid, he jimmied the lock that was supposed to prevent thefts, took out two bottled Cokes, opened them and passed one to Aislinn even as he raised the other to his mouth and drank thirstily.

"I intend to pay for mine, "she said sanctimoniously.

He lowered the bottle from his mouth. "I intend for you to pay for mine, too. Also for the broken pane of glass. And for the water hose."

She drank the cold cola, thinking that it was the best-tasting thing she'd ever had. "What water hose?"

He was scanning the various implements behind the counter. "To replace the one that busted. Like this," he said, lifting one off its peg and holding it up to her.

With his other hand, he was opening drawers behind the counter and examining the contents. Metal tools clanked and rattled as he moved them about in the drawers. The sound emphasized to Aislinn how deserted the place was.

She felt alien, consumed by the feeling of desolation that lurked around the place. Greywolf suffered from no such unease. When he found the tools he was looking for, he took them out. Just when she was about to succumb to abject despair, she spotted the pay telephone.

She was sure Greywolf hadn't noticed it. He was still pilfering the tool drawers and hadn't looked in the direction of the corner where the phone was attached to the wall. It was partially hidden by a rack of outdated magazines.

If she could keep him talking, maybe she could get to that phone and place a call without his knowing. But where was she? What was the name of this godforsaken town? What highway had they been on? She didn't recall seeing any signs. Had it even been a highway? For all she knew they could have crossed a state line and were no longer in Arizona.

"Finished?"

She jumped guiltily at the sound of Greywolf's voice. "Yes," she said and passed him her empty bottle. Where only moments before she had felt laggardly, her mind was now alert, whirring with plans for ways to distract him.

"Give me some money," he said, holding out his hand, palm up.

Eager to please him for the moment, she fished in her purse and came up with a twenty-dollar bill. "That should cover it."

He folded the money and tucked it under an ashtray on the counter. "There are facilities in the back," he said. "Do you need them?"

Yes, she did, but she deliberated on her next course of action. She could lie and say she didn't need the rest room, encouraging him to go ahead while she waited for him. But that would seem unlikely and would arouse his suspicions. Better to go along, get him to think that she no longer sought to escape.

"Yes, please," she said meekly. Without a word, he led her out the door and around the corner of the building to the two doors appropriately marked. She dreaded what awaited her inside as Greywolf pushed open the door of the women's rest room. The odor was overpowering, but she stepped inside and switched on the feeble light.

It was better than she had expected, though still bad. Now that she was reminded of how long it had been, she needed very badly to use the facility no matter how offensive it was. When she was finished, she rinsed her face and hands in the rusty sink. Even the tepid water felt cool against her sun- and wind-chafed skin.

Opting to let it air-dry, she went to the door, unlatched it, and tried to push it open. It wouldn't budge.