No Exit

by Taylor Adams

“Still better than Bing Crosby.” “Who’s Bing Crosby?” the younger man asked. “One of the Beatles,” the older one answered. “Oh.”

“Can you guess who the murderer is?” “Not yet,” she said dryly. “That’s the point.” “It’s always the nice guy,” Ashley said. “Again, I don’t really read, but I’ve seen a lot of movies, and that’s even better. Whoever seems like the nicest character, at first, will always turn out to be the asshole in the end.”

Here. Tonight. In this snowbound little rest area. Before the plows arrived at dawn, she needed to stop Lars herself. Somehow.

Literally say something

The difference between a hero and a victim? Timing.

“Excuses are poison,” Ed repeated. “Doing the right thing is hard. Talking yourself out of it is easy.

“Is that why you don’t smile much, Darbs?” She wanted to cry. She wished it were over. “Smile,” he whispered. “You’ll live longer.”

Sandi stirred again on the bench. Luck of the Devil slid a few centimeters down her face. Darby wondered if she was really asleep. What if she was only pretending? What if she’d heard the whole conversation?

All in on it

Thinking a move ahead, she knew the brothers would then have no choice but to murder them both for the keys to Sandi’s truck, so they could chase Darby down and kill her on the highway. No, I can’t leave Ed and Sandi. I can’t get anyone else killed tonight.

Dumb

“They’re here on purpose.” “What?” “They were looking for this rest stop. They were looking at maps today on the road, finding it—” “Why?” “I don’t know,” she said. “I just know they wanted to be here.” Tonight, Darby thought, tying her hair up into a ponytail. Another loose puzzle piece. Another unsolved fragment. It made her stomach hurt. She couldn’t imagine why Ashley and Lars would choose this particular rest stop to park with their hostage, plainly visible among a handful of travelers.

To meet Ed and Sandi

She hit the floor on her kneecaps,

More kneecaps

“I can’t let you,” Ed said. “I can’t let you near them.” “Sandi,” Ashley said quietly, “please tell your cousin to drop that thing.” “It’s a lug wrench, dumbass.” “Ed, just do what he says.”

Yay Ed!

she’d made it fewer than fifty feet down the highway.

Again.. Someone needs refresher on how big a foot is