The getaway special by Jerry Oltion

sides into the surrounding hills. When they were still about a mile away from the outskirts, Trent slowed the truck to a crawl and turned off the road, then flipped the switch for four-wheel drive and they bounced along over sagebrush and rocks as he climbed a hill.
    "Where are we going?" Allen asked.
    "Lookin' for roadblocks," Trent answered.
    The sun had already set, and he'd been driving with his lights on, but he switched them off again and drove by the faint evening skyglow until they were just below the crest of the hill. From that vantage they could see the town spread out below them, most of its street lights already on and headlights streaming along the roads. They could also see police cars, their red and blue strobe lights flashing, on all the roads entering town, including the interstate highway that circled it to the north.
    "Well now," Trent said, "It looks like time for a little more four-wheeling." He didn't sound dismayed at the prospect.
    Judy and Allen hung on to the dashboard and the door and each other as Trent backed up and drove the truck around the back side of the hill, staying high enough to keep out of the worst of the snow, but low enough not to call attention to themselves. The truck tipped alarmingly, and every time they hit a bump with the uphill side Judy was sure they would go over, but Trent evidently knew just how much he could push it. The uphill side got pretty light a couple of times, but the wheels never actually left the ground.
    The only sound was the soft whine of the motor, and an occasional klunk or rattle when they bounced over a rock. It reminded Judy of what driving the lunar rover must have been like. She wondered if she would ever have the chance to find out.
    Eventually, about the time it was getting too dark to drive without lights, they rounded one last hill and came to a trailer court. There had once been a chain link fence surrounding it, but kids with bicycles and motorcycles had long since torn down a section of it at the end of the last street. Trent squeezed his pickup through the gap, switched out of four-wheel drive, turned on his lights, and drove through the trailer court. The police cars with their flashing lights were only a few blocks away; as he turned onto the main road and accelerated away from them, he grinned and said, "Hah. Roadblocks." Even so, he made Judy and Allen hunch down in the seat so they wouldn't be spotted while he drove on into town. Judy tried to keep track of their turns, at least, so she would have some idea of what part of town they were in, but the streets twisted and veered apparently at random even when they were obviously in a residential area, until she was thoroughly lost.
    "What did they do, pave the cow trails?" she asked.
    Trent laughed. "Yep. That's exactly what they did."
    He drove up a steep hill, zigzagged down a couple more streets, and pulled into a driveway in front of a light pink single-story house. A bare-limbed tree stood in the middle of the front yard. There was an attached two-car garage to the left of the house; Donna pushed the button on the remote control clipped to the sun visor, the door slid upward, and Trent drove the pickup inside. Donna pushed the button again, and the door closed behind them.
    Their joints popping, Judy and Allen climbed down out of the pickup, sidled around a more conventional-looking, boxy car parked next to it, and followed Donna into the house. Trent paused long enough to plug the truck's re-charger into the wall socket before he came in. As soon as they got inside the house, it became apparent that Donna ruled within its walls. Frilly curtains, kitchen wallpaper with strawberries on it, shelves full of knick-knacks in the living room—everything bore the stamp of femininity and comfort. To Judy, after hours in the cold and another hour or two in the bucking pickup, it looked like a little slice of Heaven. 12
    After she and Allen had showered, put on clothing borrowed from their hosts,