Spin - Chapter One

Lilah - Now

"Turn around, and don't you dare fucking move!" Noah gestured angrily with his pistol. The trembling cashier did as he was told, slowly turning to face the wall. Once we were certain he wasn't going to try anything, we wasted no time.

We made a quick exit out of Bob's Convenience Store, accidentally knocking into a display rack on the way out. The sound of showering sunglasses followed us out the door, but I didn't dare look back.

I didn't have to. I already knew what I would see. Contempt. Anger. Fear.

Chaos.

The scene had grown familiar over the last few months, like déjà vu. Didn't mean I would ever get used to it.

It was a warm summer night in Virginia, and the moon was shining just enough to guide us as we ran heinously through the deserted parking lot towards our getaway, Noah's old Mustang. It was parked down the road at a secluded pull-off, and I instinctively ran in that general direction. I clutched the straps of my backpack like my life depended on it and let the adrenaline fuel me like hellfire.

Noah was a lot faster than me and I had a hard time keeping up. More like, Noah had a hard time slowing down so as not to leave me behind.

The muggy air clung to us while we pounded down the old country road, but I didn't care. I was free. I was invincible, and we were painting the night.

The crickets cheered us on like spectators as we sprinted past. My heart bass-boomed against my ribs, my breaths, quick and heady, inhaling the strength of the night. My flesh was alive, bubbling with electricity.

The entire universe was zoomed in on just the two of us, and we were stretched out to infinity. All of the chaos teeming around me was suddenly still, the land, silent. It was in fleeting moments like this that my world became absolutely clear.

I was here. I was alive. And, I was with Noah. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else could.

My lungs burned in appreciation when we reached the Mustang and Noah rounded the driver's side. He tossed me his backpack and I shoved both of our bags into the backseat. I expertly leaped in through the open passenger window, ducking into my seat in record time. Seconds later, Noah had the engine running and the pedal to the floor. I flew back instantaneously as the car ripped out of the overgrowth, spraying dust and gravel all over the tall weeds behind us.

As soon we hit pavement, my heart and eyes went into perpetual overdrive, frantically checking the mirrors, looking for any sign of angry owners or flashing lights. I prayed silently to the moon, or anyone who would listen, begging for this time to be like all the others, willing it into the stars.

My heart sunk when I heard the ominous siren and saw the flashing red and blue lights up ahead. I glanced at Noah who was shrinking before my eyes, deflating just as fast as I was.

"Noah," I said, the desperation clear in my tone.

"I know." His face paled. "Just act normal."

Noah let off the gas pedal, trying to bring us down to an acceptable speed, while my heart did quite the opposite, threatening to expose me for the perpetrator that I was. I sat perfectly still in my seat as if this was how an innocent person would act and stared straight ahead, sure that even from that distance the officer could see my heart protruding from my chest with every thump.

Seconds felt like hours as the cruiser got closer and closer. I held my breath and waited. Once it reached us, we were doomed. I would never see Noah again.

It was over.

Just when I felt the last bit of hope leaving me, the cruiser ripped past us, the howl of the siren almost deafening, like the screams of the reaper himself.

For a moment, the Mustang seemed suspended in air. I couldn't believe it. Our mouths fell open, both of us stunned into silence. I blinked once. Twice. Then, a pain in my chest reminded me that I was human, and humans needed oxygen. I took in a huge breath.

"Wooo," Noah howled like a mad dog and hammered the steering wheel with his palms.

I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry, or hurl myself out of the car at seventy miles an hour.

Instead, a slow smile crept across my face. We did it. We effing did it... again.

Before I could even fully absorb what had happened, we were on the highway headed far away from Bob's Convenience Store and the piece-of-shit town we had called home for the last two weeks.

When enough minutes had passed and still no one was pursuing us, Noah and I finally started to relax. Our breathing gradually slowed, our hearts returning to their normal rhythms.

Noah leaned forward in his seat and pulled out the pistol that was tucked in the back of his jeans. Sweat beaded and dripped off his dark hair as he turned to me and held out the gun.

I knew he wanted me to place it in the glovebox where he always stashed it, but once I held it, I felt obligated to acknowledge it for the formidable thing that it was. I turned it over in my hand, admiring the weight, letting the cool metal sooth my flushed skin. For all the times I had seen Noah holding it, I had never actually done so myself. Having the power of life and death in my hands was a foreign concept, one that equally thrilled and terrified me.

Afterward, I carefully placed it in the glovebox just as Noah intended.

I leaned back in my seat and threw my feet up on the dash. Then, I set about picking at the frayed bits of canvas on my tattered shoes, concentrating overly hard for such a menial task, like doing so might make them new again.

I wasn't normally so focused--or quiet--and it didn't take long before Noah took his eyes off the road to inspect me. "You alright?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Why do you still ask me that every time we do this? We've done it enough times now that you should know I'm fine."

His grin turned devilish. "You are fine. And, I still ask you because it still matters." But then, his expression soured. "Not like it's getting easier each time."

I sighed heavily. We'd had this conversation before and I didn't want to go there again. It would only ruin the high I was still riding.

"Y'know we don't have to keep doing this, Lilah?" His voice took on a serious tone.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked. "Then how we gonna survive?"

"Like everyone else." His eyes continued to flicker between me and the road.

"And by that do you mean, barely?"

"I mean we could find a place to settle down. I could try to find work again."

"There isn't any work, Noah."

"There's work, it's just hard to find at the moment." He paused and ran a hand through his hair like he does whenever he's nervous. I knew whatever he was fixin' to say wasn't gonna be good, but what came out of his mouth next shocked me. "We could always go home to Midnight."

I stared at him with wide, gaping eyes, as if he might've lost his mind. "Don't call it that," I said, through gritted teeth.

"What? Home?"

"Yes."

"It is our home, Lilah."

"Midnight is not my home. Home is a place where you're always welcome. Where you feel safe. Midnight isn't that."

It was never that.

His eyes instantly filled up with regret and he turned his attention back to the road. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Besides," I went on, "have you forgotten what you did? If we go back there, they could throw you in prison."

He thought about it for a few seconds. "And, how would that be any different than what we're doing now?"

I cast a steely, sideways glare at him. I refused to think that going back to Midnight was even an option.

I knew why Noah was bringing it up again. Today made one year since we left Midnight, Mississippi. One year since either of us had seen our family and friends. Not that I was complaining.

I knew Noah missed his mom and brothers but we couldn't go back there.

"We can't keep doing this forever. Eventually, we're gonna get caught. Don't you want to find someplace that's ours? Someplace we can call home?"

His voice almost sounded hopeful.

Home? I'm not sure I even knew what the word meant.

I paused to study him, looking for the truth that only I could ever decipher when it came to Noah, wondering if that's what he really wanted.

If it's what I really wanted.

A long moment of silence went by. Finally, the corner of my mouth turned up into a crooked smile. "I don't need a home. I have you."

I spoke with sincerity.

He gave me that knowing look and lazy smile that I love, and reached across the seat to lace his fingers in mine. "You know you ain't gonna have me if I go to prison, right?"

"Nobody's goin' to prison," I said, adamantly.

"You don't know that."

I sighed deeply and ripped another tattered piece from my shoe. "Nobody's going to prison because we ain't getting caught."
Since the war, the police population had dwindled down to a dangerous number. The country was in the peak of the biggest crime wave it had ever seen, and the few that remained struggled to keep up with the chaos. Something I counted on very much to keep us out of prison.

He paused, looking into my eyes like he might find the future written there, studying me, searching for I don't know what. Finally, he turned back to the road. "Well, I hope you're right," he paused, "...for both our sakes."

His eyes clouded over when he whispered that last part like he was casting it out into the universe more than saying it to me.

I shuddered at the thought, letting myself imagine the loss. You have no clue, Noah.

I turned my face away and swallowed hard, trying to rid myself of the guilt tightening my throat. I had to. I couldn't let Noah pick up on my odd behavior. He noticed everything, especially when it came to me.

I promptly swallowed down the shitstorm that was threatening to come up.

Needing to get away from the subject, I turned my attention to our latest haul in the backseat. The reward for all our inglorious efforts.

"How much do you think we got this time?" I asked, grinning to cover up the knots forming through my insides.

My attempt at distraction worked. At least, it did on Noah. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, looking just as devious as I felt. Still, I breathed a little easier knowing I could still hide things from him.

I climbed into the backseat and began unloading the stolen goods. One bag held the cash while the other was filled with liquor, smokes, junk food, and whatever else I happened to grab.

You know... the necessities.

After a quick inventory, I started the task of counting all the money. Noah cleaned the place out, emptying the register and a safe that was in the back room of Bob's Convenience. Luckily, the cashier knew the combination and was more than willing to comply.
He was a balding, overweight man who didn't seem to have a brave bone in his body. He opened the safe up without batting an eye. Noah never even had to point his pistol.

Robbing places, as it turned out, wasn't all that hard if you planned it right. We were always real careful about choosing our next job. We'd stake a place out for days beforehand, making sure there were no troublesome security guards or cameras. We chose places that were in the middle of nowhere with only one or two employees.

The middle of nowhere is actually good for a few things, including criminal activity. Burning cars, destroying evidence, hiding bodies, committing robberies--not that our spree had ever escalated that far...well, besides the robberies (and, that one time with Reverend Anthony's car).

But certainly, the most important factor when planning was making sure we had a clean exit.

I'd always go in first so I could distract the cashier. That way Noah could make his grand, belligerent entrance without meeting the barrel of a shotgun, a possibility that terrified me. He'd shout and holler while the employees fumbled to get the registers open. Sometimes, Noah would get his pistol out. Sometimes, he wouldn't. Just depended on the amount of trouble we thought a person might give us.

I'd stand there holding the backpack open while they loaded the money in. There was always a moment when the person realized that I was in on the whole thing. Looks of shock, quickly followed by contempt and anger. Anger that I lead them into a trap. You'd think if there was anyone to be angry with, it'd be the man holding the gun. But, I found that was rarely the case.

We'd clean out the registers and any safes. Then, I'd give Noah the bag full of cash and he'd keep watch while I ran around, throwing whatever else I could into another bag. The whole thing took less than ten minutes. In. Out.

Gone.

It wasn't always like this. I mean to say we weren't always criminals. Once upon a time, we were just kids, dreaming of getting the hell away from our miserable lives and the town that we considered our prison. Getting out ended up being the easy part. But, surviving on the road... now that was something entirely different.

Since the war, things had gotten bad everywhere. When it began people said it would be the beginning of the end. But, when the smoke settled and people were still standing, that mindset seemed to fade away.

But, what if they were right?

What if the end doesn't come as a great flash of fire and brimstone? A grand gesture of death and destruction? What if the end is slow and agonizing? A long, drawn-out poisoning that gets into the tiniest veins and spreads until there's nothing left but rot and decay.

Everywhere we went, you could almost smell the desperation. The toxins of war had seeped in, leaving nothing but damage in their wake. I didn't think there was any place that went unscathed.

So, when people said that things were bound to get better, I found it hard to believe. It wasn't my experience of the world. And, the thing about poison is... people rarely know what they've ingested until it's too late.

It didn't take long for us to realize that life on the road would be much harder than we thought. Jobs were scarce, money was tight, crime was at an all-time high, and the youth ran wild. Sometimes, you get to a point where the only decision to be made is the wrong one. At least, it might seem that way at the time.

We were just a couple of desperate kids, living in desperate times, who made a desperate decision.

Of course, none of that mattered anymore. What's done is done. We couldn't go back even if we wanted to.

There is no rewinding the clock. There's only the clock.

Midnight, Mississippi wouldn't be any different than when we left it, and Noah and I both knew it. Going back there would be a mistake.

The only place we could go was forward, leaving those desperate children that we were behind.