Since they would not be staying long, they had not unpacked all their luggage, and there was not much to pack up. Tim handled it all by himself while Schiller started looking for a place on Airbnb.
Most places had to be booked in advance. The more popular ones might be fully booked months ahead, so finding somewhere with both a good location and a good layout at this point was already difficult.
Not long afterward, Schiller told them he had found a new place. The two of them did not question it. They grabbed their luggage and went to find the car.
Since only Schiller knew the address, he drove this time. The car got back onto Highway 10, but this journey turned out to be unexpectedly long.
They set out early in the morning. At a little after ten, they stopped at a gas station for breakfast, then kept driving until after two in the afternoon, when they had lunch, and then drove again until after five.
Tim suspected Schiller was planning to drive all the way to Mexico, but he had no proof.
The first stretch had been on major roads, but later they started winding through twists and turns, passing through mountains one moment and along the coast the next. Naturally, the car could not pick up much speed. After dawdling along for half the day, they finally stopped at a deserted beach.
Pamela started vomiting the moment she got out of the car. She was not carsick; she had simply smelled the leather interior for so long that her stomach was churning.
After getting out, Tim checked his phone. Damn. They were southwest of San Diego, practically at Mexico already.
More precisely, they were now at the border between California in the United States and