#1 - Coos Bay, Oregon ↓
Damp. Damp and cold. Damp and cold and a scowl on his face as another car passed by without sparing them a glance. What a great idea this had been. Hitchhiking north. Awesome. Magnificent.
"Jesus, Tyler! Can you at least get up and pull your weight?"
"Nah," he laughed, "You're doing great sticking your thumb in the air"
Joshua sighed. "I don't understand why this has to be a fight"
"Oh, you really think someone will turn up?"
"Yeah," he warmed his tingling fingers with his breath, "It’s quarter to eight, relax"
Relax... "That’s not making me relax"
And by the looks of it, it wasn't making his friend do so either, jumping, waving, hollering at the ruby red Toyota that, in the end, drove straight past them as well.
"Stop whining, man," he said with a grin, "I told you to bring a jacket"
"I told you to bring a jacket..."
"Well, look at the sunrise over the sea!"
"This isn’t the Caribbean. This is Oregon. It’s forty degrees, Joshua. With our luck we'll be sitting here until tomorrow"
"If I'm not back again this time tomorrow," sang the car radio, "Carry on... carry on, as if nothing really matters"
Her lithe fingers darted through the winter sun. Heather drummed on the steering wheel, ignoring the two junkies sitting at the side of the road.
To her left the sea - to her right the conifers of Portland. From her belly rang a gorgeous laugh. The new sound system had been worth every penny.
A gust of wind brought the smell of salt. The glittering roads spilled the late sunlight onto her piceous hair. She looked like she had invented the word for beauty. Tomorrow she would be at Nina's place. And then? North or south? Through Montana or...?
She wouldn't finish that thought. A red flash glared her vision. Rapid blinks left woozy stars near the corners. She gripped the steering tight and hit it dead on: Brown fur coming to a rest on her hood. Guts impaled on windshield wipers. Heather heaved a shaky breath as she took the last one out of the deer's hazel eyes with a vermeil fizzle.
"Damn it"
↑ #2 - Boise, Idaho ↓
She glanced around the strung-out bar. The place was small and dark, deserted in the corner she had pressed herself into. The dim light above the bartender flickered furiously. She took another deep breath. The smell of wainscot mixing with the tangy scent of leather settled her mind.
The whiskey glass impacted forcefully on the wooden countertop. Heather froze. Red liquid danced lively between the crystal edges. A few drops had spilled over the rim.
"Three fifty," demanded the woman.
Heather's eyes softened. She looked angelic under the yellow light; her black eyes piercing Heather’s. She swallowed and fumbled four dollars onto the counter.
"Keep the change," she rasped.
Her finger slid over the wet rim and came back tinted red. Heather licked the residue off the tip and pushed the glass to the side.
Her pocket vibrated; Heather’s hands shook as her phone screen lit up. Nina had written.
Already in Idaho?
She rolled her eyes.
Stop tracking me, she wrote back.
Not tracking you. The fumes told me.
She laughed, lifting her finger to reply something witty, when: "Is that your Volvo outside?"
"Uh," Heather stuttered. To her right stood a tall and broad man whose stance told her all about his drinking history.
She swallowed. "Why?"
"Cute dent," he shrugged and sat down onto the stool next to her. Great. Heather put her phone away.
He pointed at her drink. "Negroni? You want another?"
"Thanks," her lips pressed tight, she pulled the glass closer.
"Where’s it from? Sheep? Wolf?"
"Deer, actually," she sighed.
"Ah… Nice car, though. Well kept for a classic"
"I don’t sell"
"Whoa, I don’t intend to buy," he put his hands up and lowered his eyes, "Your car, that is"
Heather nodded: "So, you’re... what? A dealer?"
"Well, kind of," He deflected, bogusly nonchalant, "I’m no expert, but I know a gem when I see one. You must be keeping good care of her. Well, except for…"
"That deer," they nodded.
"Heirloom," Heather winced. His features softened. Slowly, his hand came to rest over her own.
"I’m sorry," he said as Heather ripped her hand away. "Don’t be"
She nipped at her drink. Too bitter, she thought and put it back down. When she looked at the man again, he was still smiling.
"I crashed a deer once, yeah," he said. "That was... strange. I came from that roadhouse, that one over there, outside. I had driven half a mile and had an animal under my car. Beautiful creatures. The blood seeped onto the icy asphalt. It was so cold, the warm air rose from its guts. It was strange seeing them up close. They’re creatures to be observed far away," he slurred and drank.
Heather wriggled about on the bar stool.
"I wanted to drive on, I was on holiday, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t leave it there – I had to call the wildlife services. I mean, you don’t just ignore an angel laying to the sides"
A grating scratch cut through the air as the jukebox rotated its tunes. Billy Joel’s grainy voice filled the room to Heather’s grimaces.
"But I never drove on," the man said, "I wanted to see Seattle, but I never did. I just drove south. Reminds me, though, of the regret. I really regret it. I should have let it rot to the sides"
Wow, okay, Heather thought, What a fucking freak. But even more importantly: "It would have come back," she whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"It would have come back," she cleared her throat.
He scoffed. "I like you strange types. You reek of regret"
His gaze sat on her chest like bricks.
"What?"
"No, sure. You know what I mean," he waved her away.
"No, not quite, actually. And if you don’t mind, I’d actually much rather drink in peace. Thank you"
"You must be fun at parties," he mumbled.
"I’m just not a sentimental drunk"
The man hooked his feet into her barstool, turned it with the flick of his ankle and forced her to look at him.
"But you seem that way," he observed, "You seem sad. You seem to be pulled down by something"
Heather bared her teeth. "Oh, really? Do I? May that be because I'm getting lectured by a drunkard?"
"Hey," he spat, "Watch your mouth! I’m not a drunkard. You don’t know me!"
"You’re right. I don’t. And I don't have any obligations towards you. Good night"
She slammed the drink onto the counter and slid off the stool.
His viscious voice kept sneering: "You’re drunk, you can’t drive away. Gotta stay the night"
"And you're a loser"
"Not a sore one though. Come on. Heather. Heather, right? What's with the regret?"
Her shoulders flinched; she turned around. "How do you know my name?" She yelled. There was no escape, Heather noticed. Well done, she thought, you’ve got a talent for driving yourself into a corner.
"I don’t want to play your stupid games," she bit.
His smug veneer remained. "Tough luck, baby. Regret," he stabbed her sternum with his pointer finger, "Regret, that doesn't wash away"
And there laid the truth of it. The cold, unbearable truth of it, as John Coltrane blared into the silence Billy Joel left behind.
"So, I," he began himself, "I regret never having done something"
Her face contorted in horror: "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
He wasn't really talking about a missed sweetheart, was he?
"Are you always this pathetic?" Her sharp tone silenced him.
"You're funny," he laughed, "I mean something that mattered. Something real that makes you important to remember. Most people regret this. Funny right? The most impactful people must have said: I regret never having done something. Hey!"
He snapped his fingers under Heather’s nose. "Your turn, come on. Quit pretending I’m boring you"
"My dad used to say that, although real perfection is impossible to achieve, a good and honest try is worth just as much"
"Was he religious? Your dad?"
"Yes, I guess," she laughed, "Why?"
"Just seemed that way"
She ran a fingernail over the empty glass.
"He used to like the stories about Job and fate. He used to hate the stories about saviours and wonders"
"Why?"
"Because, I figure it made much of the pain seem more like a task, rather than tough luck," she turned to him, "My mother died early. When you want to be remembered, someone has to carry that burden"
Silence rang between them. Ordering a second beer, he turned to her: "And you?"
"Hm?"
"Are you religious?"
Chewing on her lip, she took a deep breath.
"I used to ogle the angel paintings and descriptions. I liked everything holy because it was a simple concept. Kids my age wanted to become an astronaut. I wanted to become a saint," she grinned, "I didn’t know it wouldn’t pay, then"
Silence.
"Well," Heather sighed, "As much fun as this was, I’ll get out of your hair," she said and nearly, nearly managed to leave the encounter behind, but his swift fingers wrapping around her wrist stopped her at the very last minute.
"You haven't answered my question!"
She ripped her hand free and slammed it down onto the counter. "Okay, smartass. I regret not being closer to my sister. There. Happy?"
His eyebrows lifted. "Is she dead?"
"What?"
"The only reason you’d be saying that is because she’s either dead already or halfway there. So, when’s her due date?"
A shove to his shoulder and his back collided with the bar counter. Heather leant above his cowering face: "Screw you, asshole"
His tongue wet his lips. "Insults are not the way to sainthood"
"How can you say something so fucked up to a stranger? I was wrong today. A good and honest try couldn't save you. It wouldn’t work"
She unlocked her fingers from his jacket.
"And just so you know," she spat, "You were wrong too. It’s not her who’s dying. It’s me. Good night"
↑ #3 - Juniper, Idaho ↓
Heaven had opened the floodgates. Inside Heather’s Volvo, the orange leather interior reeked of petrichor. She pressed her broken flip phone closer to her ear.
"Thank God, finally!" Nina’s voice came tinny from the crappy speaker.
"Hey," Heather laughed.
"Lori!" She heard Nina yell in the distance, "Heather’s on the phone!"
"Hey," came the second voice, "where are you now?"
"Uh... Somewhere in Idaho. Sorry, I didn’t pick up yesterday. Some fucking creep kept chatting me up"
Heather upped the wiper speed.
"Gross"
"Yeah, don’t worry about me. How’s Portland?"
"Not much different than a week ago. Martha’s getting married"
"No! Shut up," Heather laughed. It felt good, warm to hear Nina’s voice again. If she inclined her head just a few degrees, she could pretend to rest her cheek on Lori’s bony shoulder. She wanted to close her eyes, pretend Nina’s permanent magic smell of cinnamon would lay on her tongue. The creeping cold of the car vaulted her out of the spell. Best not to close her eyes on the road.
"You know, Nina is in Hartford soon"
"Yeah," Nina laughed humourlessly, "For the pan-american wizard council. Some paper pushing bullshit"
"Hm," grumbled Heather. "First time since my dad’s funeral?"
"Yeah"
"When?"
"In two months"
Heather swallowed. Suddenly, the roads appeared darker. She cleared her throat, her voice coming out in a high pitch: "And you’re glad to be in town again?"
"God, no. Hartford stinks. But I miss the Chinese place, the one next to your old apartment"
"Yeah. I miss that place too... Listen, I mean, If you see my sister.."
The asphalt passed in a blur. Yellow lights dotted the horizon. A sliver of baby blue appeared in the distance, where soon the sun would blind her eyes.
She sighed: "Well, you probably won't, but if you do…"
"Most likely not"
"Yeah, right. Sorry, that was stupid"
The roads rumbled on. Her fingers fiddled with the seatbelt.
"We’ll tell her you called," Lori, ever the diplomat.
"Yeah. Yeah! You can do that. Please do that. Did she call you?"
And it was quiet, again, but maybe that was just the speaker; her phone being ancient and the connection spotty. It would probably only take a second before their voices would filter through: "I… no, not yet," Nina hesitated, "But I wanted to call her anyway"
"Sorry. I shouldn’t push"
"It’s okay, Heather"
And there it was, the first ray of sunshine, glistering through a low-hanging road sign. Heather had missed her, the night too crowded alone. Brightly she stood straight, promising a new beginning, dripping wet, sticking out a thumb.
No. Heather did a double take. This could not be right.
"Uh, wait actually, let me call you back, yeah?"
"Heather? What?"
"Bye! Bye, Nina!"
Both feet stomping into the pedals, the car came to a squeaking stop right next to a woman scowling through the rain. Heather frowned, rolling down the passenger window. No, not a single speck of light to be seen on the horizon!
The woman shivered heavily. Without saying a word, she ripped the door open and dropped down onto the leather seat with an ugly squelching sound: "What a stupid fucking idea!"
Heather’s lips escaped a chuckle.
"You find this funny, huh?"
Clutch, break, accelerator and her baby rolled on eastwards.
"Relax, no. I just thought the modern traveller checked the weather"
"I am not responsible for the weather!"
"And neither am I," she grinned, "You could be a bit nicer to your saviour"
"Yeah, sorry," the woman rolled her eyes, "My God-sent guardian"
Silence followed and if Heather thought it had been awkward with Nina and Lori, she should have kept her thoughts quiet as not to jinx it. Heather gave her a thorough once-over then: She looked remarkably pedestrian for a hitchhiker. White leggins under hot pants - brown hair over a galaxy-print t-shirt. Maybe a bit two thousand ten - stranger was the lack of jacket.
"And where are we going?" Heather nearly choked on her own spit.
"You've got quite the nerve, no? I am driving eastwards"
"How far?"
"Far"
"Okay, let me out when we’re in Utah"
"Sure," she smiled.
She smelled acidic, Heather noticed then. A faint but piercing odour burning through the space between them. She kept her eyes fixed on the road.
"Thank you," the woman sung small after a while.
"You’re welcome"
Then, a hand was hesitantly stretched out over the centre console. Heather shook it.
"My name is Elmira," she smiled. It looked a little alien before she decided to retract her tongue from where it was wedged between her teeth. Her eyes were dark and warm and Heather nearly lost herself in the strange pull of her face, before she tore her eyes away. The vague after-image flickered over the dark roads.
"Heather. Nice to meet you," she squeezed her hand once more before putting it back on the steering wheel.
When Heather turned her head, Elmira was still staring at her. It was uncanny, really. Her eyes flying over Heather's features, and Heather unable to tear her view away for long.
With force and self-restraint, she pressed out the next words: "So, what's in Utah?"
"Work"
"What kind of work?"
"Informatory work"
Okay, Jesus, Heather thought. "Sure. Informatory work. Why... there?"
"Fuck if I know," Elmira laughed, "I'm going to take it as a vacation"
"As a vacation?"
"Yeah," she turned to Heather with a questioning look, "That's what you people do, no? Vacations, trips, hitchhiking?"
"Sure, it's what we do. You're not from here, are you?"
For a moment, they breathed in unison as the sun finally, finally crept up the horizon.
"No," Elmira said eventually, "I travelled kind of far"
In the distance, wind farms passed by; little red dots reflecting in the fogged-up windows. Heather pointed to the radio: "You don't mind, do you," she asked and Elmira shook her head.
Another day, another road, another psycho passenger. And the blinding sun greeting them as they passed state borders.
"This is heaven," she whispered.
"This is Utah," Heather laughed, set the signal and parked the car to the side of the road.
"You know, I could drive you to the next bigger city..."
"No," Elmira smiled, "This is perfect"
Heather shrugged: "Okay" But Elmira hesitated, her hand clawed into the door handle.
"You think I have everything?"
"You didn’t...come with a bag"
"Right"
Heather sighed. "I’m not going to kiss you goodbye"
Then her fingers moved, swinging the door open and crawling out into the rain.
"Thank you, Heather, again," she said before slamming the door shut, "I'm positive we'll meet another day"
She couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure of it"
With a last look, Elmira disappeared into the shadows of the roadside, while Heather's orange Volvo drove on into the red morning sun.
↑ #4 - Green River, Utah ↓
The change hit the counter in a ringing symphony of clinks. Heather shuddered. Frost flowers danced across the window facade. She pulled her beanie deeper and wrinkled her nose.A teen was working the morning shift at the gas station. His fingers were littered with scars left by bite marks. He nearly spilled the coffee everywhere, sliding the paper cup in Heather's direction.
Stepping out into the dusty parking lot, the door clattered shut behind her. Some mongrel couldn't resist yapping at the only other two men. Welcome to Utah, Heather thought.
The dry cold stung in the nose. Lips recoiling upon contact with the coffee, the low hanging sun blinded her. Her eyes flitted over the dog (visibly pregnant and infected with fleas) then rested on her steaming car. They didn't seem like friends, the other two. Heather ignored their argument erupting near the car vacuum.
Today I'm in Green River, she calculated. Then tomorrow in Colorado, Sunday in Nebraska or Iowa, if I'm lucky. Which has never happened before.
"Hey fuckface," yelled the first man in the background. Heather chased a cough away with a sip of the brew, then opened the trunk.
Inventory includes a blanket and enough water to last the next two weeks. Shopping has to be done somewhere in New York. She scoffed. Crazy how it never ends. You can die tomorrow but you won't escape the chores. She hesitated. Maybe, when she would reach the coast, she could take herself out for dinner. Pork sisig and lumpia. To come home for one last time. She shook her head. Ridiculous. They could never get her mother's sauces right. It didn't matter anywa-
Heather flinched at the sudden noise: A punch, a yell, a bang. Then another.
The two had progressed past unfriendly greetings. One of them (bloody and bruised) leaning onto her car – the other (sweaty and panting) looming dangerously above him.
"Whoa! Wow, wow, wow!" She slammed the trunk shut. "What the fuck do you think you're doing there?"
Heather's feet acted immediately on instinct. Just like her mouth: "What the hell?! Move before I fuck you up!"
But the bigger man simply rolled his eyes at her, sneering: "Relax, doll. It's just a scratch. Did you enjoy the show?"
Heather's ears kept ringing. There was a pathetic lump cowering on her hood. She picked him up by the collar. His head lifted, barely conscious.
"Not on my fucking watch," she hissed, turning around, but the other man had already vanished.
"Ey!" She yelled into the empty parking lot, "Hey, whose fucking weirdo is that?"
The dust didn't answer. And she couldn't understand the dog.
"Oh, my fucking god, no. Absolutely not," she whispered to herself.
Her disgusted fingers released his shirt. Immediately, he slumped back against the engine cover. Blood rushing through her ears, Heather chewed on the lining on her mouth. Then, against her better judgement, she scraped him back up.
"I’m not fucking responsible for you" She threatened, but he couldn't even answer coherently, only vague noises exiting his mouth. "What?! Speak up!"
Not that that helped.
Heather turned around, throwing a hand up in the air. "I’m leaving you here. Good luck!"
It seemed to activate him. Shakily, he held out his hand: "Argh. Ey. Hey, hey"
Heather spared him a glance and he smiled drowsily: "Hi"
"Go back to sleep," Heather spat before falling into the driver's seat.
The man blinked slowly. "Are you, like, God?"
Ice pricked her skin. Molten eyes watched his spindly arms as he smeared his bloodied hand across the windshield, mixing dust and antifreeze until her vision was red, red, red, frozen in place.
The man gasped, then coughed. "Shit. Am I dead?"
It fixed her rigor. "What? No," appalled Heather, "Dying feels different, don’t worry. Get off my car"
He didn’t budge a bit. "But… you’re gonna save me, right?"
She sighed. "I just told you, you're not dying. Move"
And like as if a grand inspiration had just revealed itself to him, he slapped his long fingers over his forehead and chuckled: "Oh! Okay, I get it. You're dead"
Heather swallowed. The dust had clogged her throat.
"No, I am not dead either," she rasped. It didn't matter. His eyes remained shiny with hope.
"You’re gonna save me, right? Right?"
Heather looked at him. His hair tawny and unwashed. His teeth just as yellow. He drooled onto the paint. Heather had made the mistake of consideration. Was she? Was she really going to save him? A mean thought stuck itself to the crevices of her brain. She turned away and focused on the road ahead.
"You don't have half a clue, do you?" she breathed, "Get in before I change my mind"
The man's smile was ugly. His lips were bitten into an angry red shade and his eyes stayed distant. Nevertheless, he stumbled over to the back seat: "Whoa, thanks dude"
Heather took a deep breath.
Then she engaged first gear, put down her foot and drove.
Luck. She thought. Luck was all it took never to step a foot into Utah. Luck and a little bit of common sense. She gripped the steering wheel tighter as her mental counter hit the thirty minute mark. Still no hospital in sight. Luck. Heather broke the speed limit and kept crawling through the landscape like an ant through molasses.
Endless silence filled the car ... until: "Hey, uh, where… where’re we driving?"
She caught a glimpse of him in the rear-view mirror.
"Does your head hurt? We're still looking for a hospital. And I’m driving"
"Yeah, can’t let the dead guy drive! That’d be… crazy, dude"
Another deep breath. "I'm not your... dude"
"Sure"
"And I told you; you aren’t dead"
"Well," he slurred, "I’m only gonna believe that, when a doctor – a qualified doctor, yes? – diagnoses me with life. Hey they should diagnose you with life"
"Uh-huh," she let her eyes drift back onto the road. Straight ahead, still straight ahead. Forever straight ahead. The man made a strange noise.
"Hey, hey, hey! At least try not to bleed onto the leather"
His eyes remained shut. Twenty minutes ago he had started complaining about the heat, until he had undressed, only to complain about the cold. "Hm. Mhm… But it’s so comfy"
"I will fine you"
"Hm… Nice stranger who’s saving me from the cost of an ambulance threatens to fine me… sure"
"They don’t take dead guys in ambulances, by the way"
"Maybe… But I’m tired," he smiled.
"Could you not?" she shrieked.
"What?"
"Fall asleep, Jesus Christ," Heather swore, overtaking a Ford with shaky hands.
She looked at him, really studied him through the mirror. How he had sprawled out on the seat, green and blue littering his appearance. How his brows frowned. How he laughed. Deep and sincere: "I’m feeling vaguely close to death"
"Oh, come on," was her only retort, "Don’t… don’t be such a pussy"
"But I’m so tired," he whispered.
"No, you’re not!" Yelled the panic clawing up her throat, "Hey. Look at me. No, you’re not" It tied her tongue, "You will finish what you started!"
He blinked slowly into the silence.
"How many people tell you, you look like an angel?"
"I, what? None!"
"Well up that number by one. ‘Cause you do. ‘Course you do. You’re beautiful"
"Oh, fuck off"
"No, not in that sense. I’m not hitting on you"
"I don’t care, either way"
"I mean it," he shrugged.
"As do I. You think you can walk?"
"Sure, sure," said the man and buried his chin in his sternum. "I’m feeling better already," he slurred, "Angelic voice. Are we there yet?"
Heather set her jaw. "No. Do you have any allergies?"
He laughed: "What, you want to take me to dinner?"
"No, not while you’re bleeding out on my backseat"
"Nah. Not that I know of any"
"Okay" Breathing in, Heather gripped the steering wheel tighter. Breathing out, she accelerated. "What’s your blood type?"
His screeching laugh rang between them.
"Girly you’re asking questions! I don’t know! What’s yours?"
"What’s that got to do with anything?" Her voice shrilled.
"I just thought we were making conversation"
Heather sighed. "Alright. We’re trying this town next"
The man grinned. "Oki-doki!"
There was no escaping Utah.
The parking lot they stopped at looked exactly like the one they had just left.
A grazing cow followed their commotion with curious eyes. Heather's icy fingers bent clumsily over the handle, ripping until the door sprung open. Immediately, the man toppled. Bloody hands clung to her sweaty shirt for balance.
Heather pressed her teeth together. "Come on, idiot. You gotta finish what you started"
Her steps carried double the weight over the gravel. And when they finally reached the ratty entrance, the flimsy door flicked open with the draft – the smell of winter replaced by overtones of sick.
Heather stood and cried: "Help" It came out feeble.
"Help," she tried again, the words dying in her throat. The man's weight rested on her vocal box. Her knees wobbled. His breath panted unsteadily against her neck, unfocused eyes gazing up her cheek. One hand traced wet lines over her ribs. She could smell his blood. His hair scratching her chin. Rough and cold.
Dead already. He had stopped twitching.
"Hey," she rattled him around, head lolling from side to side.
Her voice crumbled: "You have to finish what you started. You," she took a rattling breath, watching the veins behind his eyelids. "Are you fucking with me. You cunt!" Heather's fingers buried into his hair, gripping tight and pulling his face into the fluorescent hallway lights. He did not even flinch. "You have to finish what you started!"
Then, Heather took his hand slung around her neck between her teeth and bit down onto his fingers.
It was music to her ears, the symphony of screams that followed.
"What the fuck?!" He must have yelled. Or maybe it was the nurse the corridor down. Or maybe it had been the older woman reading the paper. Maybe it had been herself. It couldn't matter; she took his chin between her fingers: "You gotta finish what you started," Heather cried before a pair of hands dragged her backwards.
"Enough!" Growled a burly man, holding her to his chest, "This is no boxing ring! Are you injured?"
"He had-"
"Are you injured?" He repeated. Louder. Angrier. Heather grew number. She shook her head.
Her fighter had collapsed onto the floor. Pasty skin on dirty concrete. Two doctors were bending down to him.
"Great," concluded the man holding her, "then you can wait outside"
By which he scruffed her neck, pushing her through the rattling door back out into the freezing air, where Heather ate dirt and didn't get up.
↑ #5 - Appleton, Colorado
The ice froze her fingertips to numbness. Gravel dug into her scalp. Heather reeked of death.She blinked her eyes open, but closed them just as soon again. The sun stung. And Heather relinquished in the dark.
Bile clawed its way up her throat. Disgusting. Her stomach in knots, her arms too weak to push her up, only agitating her position. The sea of red had engulfed her.
If she could open her eyes in that moment, she'd see the lures. She would see them tauntingly dancing just above the ground, melting the cold away in their radiant light. She would see a string of them, reaching up to her car. She would – she would see what Evelyn had, moments before reaching out in trance. Alone and cold. Doomed and forgotten. Unable to move as a painful curse shot through her body.
She'd rather keep her eyes closed. Cold and alone, but safe on the ground, in-between times.
Waiting in anticipating. Until her legs fell asleep. Until her bony knees melted puddles through the frost.
Until warmth seeped through her spine. Until her eyes shot open, her body turning violently to what must be a lure on top of her, claiming her, again and again and again and-
"Oh Jesus, sorry," yelped the woman looming over her. She had crouched down, black braids falling over her shoulders. Quickly, she retracted her hand. Heather let out a pathetic whine.
"Are you alright?"
She let her head sink back down into the dirt. Her vision blurred. Not a hint of pink laid upon the horizon. She nearly wished it did.
"Stupid question, yeah," murmured the woman to herself. "You mind if I take a seat?"
Heather blinked. "Didn't think so," she said and plopped herself down to Heather's level.
She wore thin brown sneakers and silver jewellery around her neck. Probably not a trucker, then. Too innocent in her attitude as well. Too radiant. She didn't talk. People usually talked, Heather found.
The woman rested her elbows on her knees and stared into the sky. There was still blood drying underneath Heather's fingertips.
When she sat up, hesitantly rubbing her irritated cheek, the woman looked unfazed – nearly bored.
"Do you by any chance know the way to Hotchkiss?"
What? Heather took a second to find her words: "Uhm... yes," she answered shakily. "You just follow the 50 onto the 92" She shrugged. "It's pretty simple"
"Thanks," said the woman, "That helps a lot"
There was some strange golden glint to her cheeks. Maybe make-up. The woman's hand blocked the low-hanging sun from blinding her; little rays of light painting pictures on her face. Heather picked up a handful of dust and let it run through her hands.
"I hope I'm not holding you up," she laughed.
"I have nowhere to be. You shouldn't worry about me"
Heather nodded.
"You seem quite shaken"
"I didn't.." Heather looked around, "He got into a fight. I drove him and I didn't ask his name"
The sun stung. The ice had melted. A sea of red engulfed her, then receded, then hung back, just far enough for Heather to still see the shore.
"Laetizia. That's mine," the woman said. Consonants jumping over vowels: Le-ti-zi-a. "Let me drive you home. Or to a hotel. Or... whatever it is you do" Laetizia, Laetizia.
Heather laughed a sigh. Whatever it is you do. "I'm driving home. For... for a while. I'm driving home"
"Then let me drive you a bit. Just to Denver," she smiled, her voice honey-sweet and sticky. And Heather – so tired, so empty, so cold – trapped in sweet molasses. No, she thought, you won't drive my father's car. And I will not be a bother, she thought. No, don't worry. It's fine, I'm fine, I really am, she never said and nodded instead.
"Good," Laetizia replied, pulling Heather out into the winter sun. She was taller than her. Apparently, she had a little tooth gap only visible when she smiled and wore eyes so dark Heather lost herself in them.
"Good," she repeated then took Heather through the dirt to her car, shoved her into the passenger seat and drove.