Roxanne Fosch Files Collection

Chapter 6

I drove, drunkenly taking exit ramps and coming back to the highway, meandering around in a zigzag motion, keeping a cautious eye for any black Range Rovers or motorcycles. Why had Logan helped me? Was that a fight for the bounty the PSS had placed on me?

Up ahead, I spotted the Texaco lights and decided to risk stopping there for a couple of minutes. I parked on a dim corner and crawled with some difficulties to the backseat where I kept my duffle, shrugged on a jacket, and pushed my feet into my second pair of hiking boots.

I headed for the bathroom first. The strong lighting hurt my eyes and I winced. Winced again at my reflection. The face that stared back at me was pale, paler than usual, and the black eyes were glazed, both from the close call and pain. One of the kicks had definitely hit me on the face before I"d had enough sense to cover my head, because my right cheek had swollen and was turning purple. I healed fast, faster than an ordinary human, but the processes of healing was the same for me as anyone else"s.

My red hair—now with six inches of black roots—was in disarray, and I tried to pat it down.

I washed my face with cold water, my cheeks protesting with a throbbing pulse.

I looked like s**t. I felt like s**t. I tucked my shirt inside my pants and buttoned my denim jacket all the way to cover the blood, surveyed myself in the mirror. I was hunched a little to the left, and when I straightened, my side felt like it was on fire, but it was nothing compared to the pain I felt when I probed my ribs.

I suppressed a groan of agony and hissed through gritted teeth. I wanted desperately to curl in a dim corner and bawl until I was dragged into oblivion, to wait the pain out. But I couldn"t afford that luxury.

Once the pain subsided, I made my way to the grocery next door as fast as my throbbing body allowed. I was aware of places in my body I had never felt before.

I grabbed some painkillers first, opened the bottle and dry-swallowed six pills. Then I grabbed some snacks and soft drinks and went to pay for my purchases. The guy manning the register gave me some dubious looks but said nothing. I paid and left in a hurry, afraid that whoever won the fight back in the motel would be right behind me.

I drove the rest of the night and half the next day, then parked behind a deserted factory, pushed back my seat, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

When I awoke, it was fully dark outside. My head pounded in sync with my pulse and my body still ached horribly, so I downed six more painkillers before I chewed on a power bar, washed it down with one of the soft drinks before continuing on the road.

An hour into the drive, the truck began making the same strange grinding noises as before, though I think it was more pronounced this time around. I ignored it, even as an uneasy feeling sprang to life inside my stomach. The road was dark and cold, though there weren"t many clouds hanging. I hadn"t seen another vehicle for a long while.

Two hours into the drive, the truck coughed and sputtered, and smoke began curling out from under the hood.

“Hell, not now,” I muttered without any heat and got out to check the damage. I had to punch the hood a few times, jostling a few forgotten aches, before it finally gave. I was welcomed by a cloud of smoke that obscured my view of the engine for a second, keeping me from noticing the fire at first.

“s**t. Isn"t this perfect?” I backed away and dashed for the fire extinguisher that, to my dismay and growing frustration, I found missing from the holder. I cursed some more, grabbed my duffle bag and my snacks and hurried away. I was only a few yards away when it blew. I didn"t look back.

* * *

I tried to hitchhike, but the occasional cars and trucks that passed never stopped. All the gentlemen of the world seemed to be gone. I walked and walked, then I just pretended to move, shuffling forward as much as my battered body permitted.

Three hours after the truck blew, I heard one of those sixteen wheelers approaching and stopped and raised a thumb. I held my breath and sent up a pray of plea.

After a second, it began to slow down. I exhaled in relief. My hopes to get some rest actually caused my weariness to increase a few degrees. As soon as the cab of the vehicle and I were parallel, the driver blew the horn, one long pulsating key, effectively deafening me. I could almost hear the driver cackling maniacally before the truck"s horn sounded again and the sixteen-wheeler began gaining speed once more.

My ears buzzed, the sound still reverberating inside my head like a lost pinball, and I screamed in frustration at the moving vehicle. What happened to those people who couldn"t help but stop for a lonely woman at night on a desert road?

Miserable and cold, aching all over, I walked—shuffled really—for maybe another hour, until I realized I was wheezing and hunched over. I searched the dark desert on both sides of the road for a place I could spend the night. There was nothing. Nothing but a lonely cactus. But really, what was I looking for? A tent with a warm bedroll? If I wanted to sleep unnoticed by passersby, I wouldn"t have to walk far enough into the desert, but I"d have to be up before morning or I"d stand out in the sea of sand like a verdant tree.

I"d be in more danger from a rattlesnake or whatever lived out there. In my state, I"d probably die without even knowing I had been bitten. I eyed the dark desert and contemplated my aching body. Weariness won out, and I began making my way to the desert when I heard the low rumble of a vehicle approaching. I almost sagged with relief before I remembered the world was full of assholes like the driver of the sixteen-wheeler. I stuck my thumb out anyway and watched the blinding lights reach me. When it did, I mentally kicked myself for not taking my chances with nature five minutes earlier. Because there was nowhere to run, I waited until the passenger door opened… only to find myself staring at the barrel of Logan"s g*n.