The Silverado although as he could hear was struggling, it was keeping up with the cars it faithfully kept going. The tires rolling over every crack and bump and he could feel it through his seat. The suspension was shot and he felt the repercussions of that. The older man who was driving had clearly turned the radio down for him but he could still hear the muffled crackle of stairway to heaven coming out of blown out speakers. It was also here as he watched out the window he wanted to sleep. Hours of walking none stop had him ready to fall asleep, and watching the trees guard rails and other cars pass by wasn’t helping any. If anything the mesmerizing scene was trying to put him to sleep. Although as he fought off the reality that he was sore and too tired to continue on if he had to he cracked his back and stretched out in the seat silently. The searing pain in his legs and back as he stretched slipped away a bit and he felt much better if not more tired. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford here, he didn’t know this man and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, in fact just the opposite was true. Ryan has grown a disposition to trusting people, but there would just be too many variables to control before he could sleep. Like who the man was, did he have a weapon, was he a thief. Not that Ryan has much that could be taken and they were riding in silence save the low music. He hadn’t bothered to make conversation and didn’t want to. This was just a short ride down the road and nothing more.

  The man fumbled with a cigarette and lighter as he drove leaning over the steering wheel to light it as he kept his wrists on the wheel. Ryan watched out of the corner of his eye then turned back to the window. He reached into the sweatshirt front pocket where he felt the sliver of paper he had kept there. It was folded into a small square about one inch by one inch and detailed a list. A list of names of those he could still trust from his past life. Those that would help him clear his name when the time came, if it ever came. Most of those people were looking for him too, and he shook his head. Once he made it to Florida he could start west heading to Texas he thought to start to plan this out now. From Texas, he could slip across the border and start there. Not many people looked to run into Mexico nowadays, they were all looking to run out and getting in would be easy. Of course once in would be the hard part. Most times investigators would have some inclination on where to start looking for a fugitive or killer, he had none. Not even a location. The only thing he could think of was the affiliation of the man who could clear his name, who was part of the Knights Templar cartel in Mexico. That was the only lead he had to go on and even that was flimsy. He searched his mind and brought his memory backup front, the brutal execution of the businessman in New York. The man who had once been a wall street stock broker before his untimely execution. The calling card of the cartel, a headless body with a cross draped around the neck.

  He was six months old as a field agent in the FBI. The dead man had raised many flags and questions to why or how such a man in such a place could get involved in illicit activities. The man was found miles away from Wall Street though, found in an abandoned shipyard housing building. He had been strapped to a chair and from what Ryan could tell he had been tortured considerably before his untimely death. His hands had been drilled through with a drill bit that was found dumped in the nearby dumpster. His fingernails had also been found on the tarp that covered the ground as well as his severed fingers. His head would turn up a day later, on the front doorstep of his wives home. It was a horrendous scene and the entire place smelled like death. He guessed the corpse had been there for a day or two and decomposition had set in. One thing was apparent, he had been tortured before he had been killed. Ryan shook his head, how long was it before he was on the run? Framed for the man’s murder that he had nothing to do with. He swallowed hard and listened to the skipping record. The man cursed and reached over ejecting the CD. Ryan wondered if the reason it was skipping was that the man shoved it between the seat and console of the truck and came back out with another one. He stuck it in and new music started playing. 

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Half an hour later and twenty more miles down the road they hit traffic. Cars backed up and neither of them knew why. The old man cursed and leaned the seat back some for what was going to be bumper to bumper riding all the way. A few people who clearly didn’t know how a traffic jam worked hit his horn blaring into the night sky some god awful tune. Ryan adjusted himself to get more comfortable. That’s when he saw it, the lights that reflected off the thick oak trees that made up the Forrest. It flashed red blue red, blue red blue and he sunk a little lower. They were fast, already with a roadblock set up looking for him, at least that’s what he figured. He groaned and acted restless straining to see if that was, in fact, the case and not just some car wreck he stumbled into. It wasn't because as the Chevy donned the hill he could see the scene. At least six cop cars and double that of police. Some were directing traffic helping the cars merge into one lane they set up in the middle of the road. At least three held assault rifles and were behind the line of cop cars. One car stopped and the lead officer walked up to his door to talk to him. They would search the car opening the doors trunk and looking around with flashlights then let the man go on his way. A man who couldn't be seen through the window tint of the squad car backed it up to let the SUV through then rolled back to close the gap off as the next approached. 

  Ryans heart was pounding. The adrenaline coursing through his veins as they inched closer. He needed an exit strategy and fast. Luckily for him, the man had never left the third lane of the road and was close enough to the guard rail. The man cursed and turned the radio on to the highway announcement channel. Ryan had seen the sign a few miles back, Tune to channel 24.8 for important information and traffic updates if the lights are blinking. The lights were blinking but the man didn't bother to switch over till now. He needed out of this car then he froze. What if he was panicking for no reason? What if he was wrong and this wasn't for him at all? Jumping out of the car would certainly bring suspicion to himself and he really didn't feel like walking again. But again his gut, that thing that had kept him alive in places abroad was telling him to go. But how? It only took him a second to come up with something but he hesitated, time was passing slowly for him the adrenaline slowing down his perception of time. 

  "Thanks for the ride, but I'm gonna walk from here, maybe I can catch another ride on the other side of this." He said talking over the radio to which the man turned down.

  "I don't blame you, I may be here for hours, goddammit." the man cursed shaking his head, "why the hell would they set a roadblock here?" 

  Ryan didn't answer, he just left the car heading at a diagonal for the woods. The man, now with his silent companion gone turned the radio up to hear the broadcast that was on a loop. Attention Citizens on Highway I-95, the Washington state police department is looking for a man supposedly hitchhiking down I-95. He is described as a tall man at least six foot eight, black hair and beard. His voice rough and at least three hundred thirty pounds. If you see him or have contact with him please call the police when it is safe to do so. This man is extremely dangerous and wanted in the connection with a murder in I-95. The man turned quickly to look at the man who he had just given a ride to. The man who had disappeared into the darkness.