The following morning, the young couple woke up in festive spirits. There remained one tenacious thought still troubling Helen’s mind: what Marcus and her father did, after the incident with Kendrick. They got rid of the bodies, without notifying the police. Still, it didn’t take her long to dismiss any negative thoughts. Her boyfriend was a wanted man. Had they obeyed the law, he would surely end up in a military prison. It wouldn’t matter if he was acquitted for the shooting of Kendrick and his goon. Marcus still had the charge of murdering a senior Marine officer, hanging over his head. Furthermore, if he was found guilty of killing those two men, her father could well be charged with being his accomplice. Their action was not in accordance with the law; yet, it was the only viable option for these two men to choose.

Helen went over to her parents’ house and said a quick “goodbye” to them and Patricia. A few minutes later, she picked up Marcus from his friend’s cabin and soon, the two of them left the small town of Shandaken behind them. She was ecstatic; for the first time ever, the country girl would drive across the states. Although she knew that a motorcycle would feel much more adventurous than her pickup truck, Helen would not complain. After all, the man of her dreams was there with her and they were on their way to her friends, in the sunny city of Los Angeles. Not even Helen herself could have envisioned a better scenario for this road trip.

She breathed a sigh of relief, as she drove past the point where Marcus and her father had met Kendrick the night before. It was utterly empty. There was no police presence whatsoever. Before she could leave the spot however, his voice tore the silence.

“Stop the truck; gently,” he said, using a slow voice, intriguing her.

“What is it?” Helen asked.

“I’ll be right back.” Marcus muttered, picking up a small bottle of water from the car floor, as she eased on the brakes. Helen opened her door, curiosity written all over her face, as he walked on the side of the road. The black tire marks that she soon noticed answered her question.

“They’re fresh.” Marcus pointed out, putting the bottle down on the road. “But, it’s the middle of the summer. If they stay here for a couple of days, it would be hard to get them off.”

Helen watched, as he took a few steps to his right, into an empty field. He bent down and picked up dirt with his hands. Reentering the road, he opened them, letting the dirt cover most of the tire marks. Then, Marcus picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid. The dirt turned into mud, as he poured water down onto the black marks. He scraped his boot along the road first, before emptying the entire bottle. He smiled to himself, as his shoeprint was washed away, just like the evidence that could potentially get Helen into trouble. Moving around the spot, Marcus returned to the truck, as she gazed on him in admiration.

“It’s gone.” He informed, as she pulled the driver’s door shut.

“Ok, thanks, but…” She paused, gently pressing her foot down on the accelerator. “How did you know it was even mine?”

“Because: I remember everything about last night.” Marcus explained, leaning his back against his seat. “You pulled over, just behind your father’s car. You weren’t exactly gentle on the brakes.”

“I was too upset to think about my brakes, Marcus.” Helen said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I couldn’t make out much from where I was. I just saw a couple of flashes.”

“Bad call.” He commented. “You could have been hurt. But, I can’t blame you there.”

“I’ll always remember what you did for my father last night.” She spoke, her voice low and sweet. “I love him very much.”

“Like I said, I had to do it.” Marcus sighed. “Tell me. If you love your father so much, why do you want to leave?”

“I don’t.” Her response was quick and clear. “Not anymore. I thought about what you said. I’d only consider leaving if I were to move to L.A.”

Her words put him in an awkward position. Marcus averted his gaze from her and looked up at the road ahead, clenching his jaw, before his lips curled into a bitter smile.

“I know it won’t be easy.” Helen added. “I know you’ll be risking exp…”

“You have no idea.” Marcus interjected, his stiff tone fueling her curiosity.

“About what?” she exclaimed.

“About what the government is capable of.” He explained, his voice dropping down an octave. “If they ever find out about you and me, they won’t just kill you. They’ll go after your whole family. That’s what they do, Helen. They kill the main targets first and then, they eliminate anyone close to them.”

“Jesus…” Her own voice turned into a fear-ridden whisper. “Those are mafia tactics you’re describing.”

“They’ve done it before.” Marcus claimed, staring into the void. “November, 2009. Malcolm Edelstein, a good friend of mine since the academy, discovers that ‘Iron Hawk’, a private military contractor is selling arms and ammo to Iraqi rebels. He tells his superiors, but they can’t do jack about it. They say it’s up to the Pentagon. He demands to see the Secretary of Defense. The Secretary of Defense refuses to meet with him. Malcolm threatens to talk to the press. They found him and his wife dead, the very next day. The official story is that he killed her and then turned his gun on himself. They said he was suffering from PTSD, but I knew the guy. He wasn’t. He had hardly seen any combat. He even wanted to start a family with her. They killed him. They didn’t want the public to know that the Pentagon was in bed with a corrupt company. The government would lose face.”

“Oh, my God,” Helen whispered, struggling to believe what she had just heard.

“Look, let’s just go back to L.A., alright?” Marcus suggested, his baritone picking up volume. “Think about what I said. Then, ask yourself if it’s worth the risk.”