Laura

"Oye! Ayuda me!" I yell out as I try to pull the large barrel of flour out from under the small sink on the food truck and get stuck in the process. I love working on the food truck but everything is so small in space that it's almost a full-body workout getting the truck ready for the day. Drivin' Sol is a project my best friend was so excited about. She talked for years about how she wanted to be a chef and work for herself. Finally, she got a loan and bought an old truck, transformed it into Drivin' Sol, and started the business. Choosing me to be her sous chef. I was perfect to help her. Everything was absolutely wonderful until about three months after she bought the food truck. It was then she realized she no longer wanted to be a chef.

Now I'm stuck with a college student trying to make ends meet as my sous chef and a job I can never take a day off from. I can't complain much. I love to cook. I've been cooking since I was four with my mother back in Puerto Rico. Something about feeding people has always made me happy.

"Sorry, , I didn't see you down there. Are you all right?" Marisa asks as she helps me pull the large bag out.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I wish we had more space." I grumble.

"You could always talk to Sara and get her to renovate the food truck. I mean, this is hers after all." Marisa says, right as she goes back to the small prep area and starts to chop up the chives.

"Please! Like she would dump any more money into this hunk of junk." I laugh and turn to the other small work area. The radio is right overhead and I reach up to turn it on. Immediately, I hear an old salsa song by Celia Cruz and I get into my zone. The work moves fast as Marisa and I cook and dance with each other in the small space. The location we're at this morning is full of kids and their parents for the peewee soccer tournament. By the time twelve hits we're going to have a large crowd. These games always put a nice chunk of change in our pockets.

"Mira! , cuidado!" Marisa screams out just as I turn around. My hip bumps into the small table and a huge jug of oil falls to the ground. The container cracks and the oil goes flying everywhere.

"Shit! Get the flour!" I yelp and we both lunge to get huge scoops of flour out of the barrel and dump it on the floor to stop the oil as best we can. It only takes twenty seconds for the both of us to look like we've been rolling around in the white powder and the entire inside of the food truck to be a mess.

I look up at the clock on the wall and realize it's only an hour before the kids start coming this way. We don't have much time and we can't cook like this. "We need to get this cleaned up."

"Yeah, that's a problem but it's not the big problem," Marisa says as she grabs a broom and starts sweeping up the oil-saturated flour.

"What? What's the big problem?" I ask suddenly looking around for the fire I'm sure we're going to have to put out.

"That was all of the oil. We don't have any left to cook with."

My eyes open wide. That's impossible. Utterly impossible. We always have oil here. I did need to get to the store for some more but I thought we had at least another five-gallon jug here. We deep fry a lot of our menu items, it's not the healthiest thing in the world but the kids like it and it's easier for them to hold. We use oil for pretty much everything. There's no way that I would let us run out.

I slide over to the small storage area and open it up. " There has to be one here! I'm sure of it!" I push the few bottles around in a panic as if the oil is going to magically appear.

"All this on the floor was from there. The last one. " Marisa says.

Fuck, we can't cook without it. If we can't cook we can't make money. If we don't make money, Sara is going to sell back the food truck. The fad is over for her, but it's my life. Until we find enough money to buy her out, I have to make sure that this place stays at least a little profitable. It hasn't been as of late.

"Okay, well I have to go get some. You clean up and I'll run over to the store and pick up enough oil to get us through today.

"Okay, I'll finish the prep too... oh you know what could be a good treat? We could make some arepas. You think you can pick up a small pack of cornmeal?"

"Yum, yes, the kids will like that." I say already grabbing my keys and wallet ready to hop out.

"Okay, well hurry back. You know those little stinky monsters will be here soon. I'm worried." Marisa grumbles and I laugh.

I hop out of the food truck and yank my apron off making sure to wipe off any remaining flour from my person. "I mean it, , I'll hide before I face them alone. " Marisa says to me as I walk away from the food truck.

"I know, I know, I'll just pick up the oil and cornmeal and come right back."

I wave back to her and shake my head at the ridiculousness of the situation. The store isn't far from here. I can go the back way and get there faster. Sure, I hate driving on that deserted road but it's better than not being able to get to the store. I hit the small key fob on my car to unlock the doors but it only chirps once letting me know they're already open. I never lock my doors. Someone is going to steal it one day. Not like it's worth much anyway. I slip into the driver's seat and I pick my key up to start the car when I feel something jab into my side.

I look behind myself for a second and see a man in my back seat. He's dirty, sweating, and he has a gun. I turn back to face forward in shock until I open my mouth, ready to scream. Before I do, he puts his hand to my mouth. "If you scream, I'll kill you. Do what I say, and everything will be fine."

Oh god. Oh god! I'm going to die! oh god!

My heart feels like it's skipping beats in my chest. I'm so scared. I try to breathe but it's hard. My eyes water and I do my best to keep as still as I can. I don't know what he wants. If he wanted the car he could have just stolen it. My life is worth so much more than a triple used car.

Tears stream out of my eyes and I feel him sit up further. My eyes catch his in the rear-view mirror.

"Don't be afraid. I don't want to hurt you. Just keep quiet, okay?" He says, his eyes softening with the words.

What? What the hell is he doing in my car if he doesn't want to hurt me?

I nod just so he can let me go. I'm not going to scream, not while he has that gun. "What… whh... what do you want?" I whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"Just drive. You see those guys searching cars. They're looking for me. Drive me out of here and I'll let you go." He stares at me and for some reason, I can hear the sincerity in his voice. He's not trying to hurt me but he's in trouble. I can understand doing fucked up shit in order to survive.

I look him over again and can see small scrapes on his face and finally I see the way his arms shake. This man is hurt and those guys are looking for him. He's in my car because he's trying to survive. I have to help. I turn the key in the ignition and the car starts up. I drive slowly, not to draw any attention. The man behind me tries to hide, slouching further down but I hear him start to curse softly as we pass one of the men.

"Go, go! Faster. He saw us. He's going to follow you. You have to drive faster!"

" What? Are you sure? They didn't do anything! Are you sure? " I ask, trying not to panic. Already this good deed is proving to be bad for my health.

"Yes! Fucking drive!" The man screams at me and just as I put my foot down on the accelerator, I hear the sound of a car alarm going off. They're stealing someone's car to come after this man.

"Look, mister I don't want no trouble, just get out." I speed out of the parking lot and start to turn down towards the main road.

"No! Go the back way, it'll be easier for them to catch you on the main road. I can't just get out, if they catch you they'll kill both of us. Drive fast. They have a long way to catch up to us and my clubhouse isn't far. I can get us some help and protection there. " He says quickly.

"Clubhouse? Aye dios. You in a racing club or something? Que mierda!" I slam my hand down on the steering wheel as I push my worn-down car as fast as it will go.

"Motorcycle club. How do you know?" He asks, glaring at me. "My brother was killed in a fucking drag racing club. All of you dumbasses have those fucking clubhouses. So fucking stupid." My skin prickles with sweat and anger.

The man reaches up and grabs my hair causing me to swerve slightly,

"Cuidado con lo que dices" He warns me in my native tongue.

If he wanted me to watch my mouth maybe he should have chosen a different car to hide in. He groans loud and drops his hands from my hair to his leg. I look back and see him pressing his hands to a wound in his leg. It's bleeding but not enough for me to think it's life threatening.

"Where am I going? You have to direct me here." I need to focus on getting to safety then I can curse him out for dragging me into this.

"Stay on the back road. It's a straight shot. "

"Okay, okay, okay" I repeat myself over and over. The repetition calms me slightly.

"Shit! Fucking hell!" the man curses and scrambles from the back into the passenger seat.

"What?" I screech out but keep my eyes on the road. These back roads can be dangerous when driving at normal speeds. Driving seventy-five miles on an unpaved road is nearly suicidal with all these twists and turns.

"They're behind us." He says and I squirm in my seat. "They're going to catch up. Right as I'm about to turn around and look, the back window blasts out and wind and glass burst into the car.

"Ahh! " I scream loudly and pick my hands up to cover my face.

"Are you crazy! Don't let go of the wheel!" The man screams at me before he lunges over to grab the steering wheel. "You're going to get us killed!"

"Me! Are you fucking kidding me? " My voice is so high pitched if the back window wasn't already shattered that would have done it.

Something pings off the car and I look around for the cause. It's gunshots! "Are they shooting at us? What the hell! What did you do to them?" I question and struggle to keep the car on the road.

"Nothing, pay attention! " The man orders me.

I look ahead of me but this time instead of an open road, two men on motorcycles are coming straight toward us. "Are those your friends?" I ask him.

He doesn't have to answer. His face drains of color and I know it's more of the enemy. Instead of going straight, I drift to the side trying to get passed them.

One of the men on the bikes quickly u-turns and comes up right beside me. My window is rolled up but he just uses his gun to break it.

I scream my head off but I don't let go of the wheel. The man in my car reaches over me and pulls the guy halfway into my car.

He proceeds to bang his head against the jagged broken window of my car door. After a few times, the man outside goes limp and my stowaway lets him go.

The car behind us catches up and all at once, it seems like bullets start flying in every direction. But none from inside the car.

He lied, he's not armed which only makes me want to get him away from these bastards more.

We're not going to make it to his clubhouse with them so close to us. I look to the side and even though I would have never done this on my own, I take a chance.

I turn the wheel abruptly so we ride down the steep hill. My car is more than twenty years old. The engine is fucked up, the transmission sticks but the frame is solid.

I'm hoping that will be enough to protect us. The car groans and thunders as we go barrelling down the cliff and into the small stream below.

I don't even have time to worry about seatbelts. All we can do is survive. I hope I made the right decision .