Page 31 of One Last Chance

Chapter 12

The days wenton like that, with Dad checking on me every night and me making time to meet Kash every afternoon. I made sure I was always in bed, reading and listening to music, before eight o’clock. Eventually Dad would get bored of his hyper vigilance. That was what I was waiting for—that was when Kash’s plan, and mine, could really start picking up speed.

The weekend was difficult. The only excuse I had for leaving the house on Saturday was to do the shopping, and I couldn’t time it right to meet with Kash. We’d decided that talking on the phone, even texting, was too dangerous. It would only take a small push for Dad to get suspicious enough to start checking that. Instead, we started leaving each other notes under a little stone on top of the tree stump where he always sat, waiting for me.

I lived for these notes. I kept them in a hollowed-out book on my shelf and re-read them sometimes at night. Kash wove images of a life I had always dreamed of, promising me a quaint castle with hardwood floors and a library, a life where we would leave for work every morning and fall into each other’s arms every night. They were just short of marriage proposals and I drank them in.

I’d never lived through a longer weekend, and Monday had never felt so good. I sped through my morning coffee and dawdled over my outfit and hair—I was giddy with the knowledge that I would see him that evening, so giddy that all thoughts of restraint were pushed to the back of my mind. I matched my bra and underwear without a second thought, and shaved my legs clear up to my navel.

“It’s hygienic,” I told myself as a little wriggle of anxiety began to climb up my spine. “It’s good to do this every once in a while. Besides, what’s the point of buying matching sets if I never wear them? There’s nothing wrong with using clothes as they were intended.”

Still, I left the house with a grin on my face which refused to fade all day. I twirled through the stacks of books like a fairy tale princess, whistling and humming to myself as I worked.

Excitement rushed through me like an endless freight train. I couldn’t be sure that anything would happen that night—Kash had been real reserved, and I didn’t know yet whether it was his uncertainty about his feelings for me, or his uncertainty about my feelings for him, or possibly just the fact that we were grown people behaving like deviant children—but I was ready for anything.

The air held a slight electric chill as I locked up the library for the day. I could barely differentiate it from the delicious chills already coursing through my being, but a quick glance at the sky showed the promise of rain. Maybe it’ll just be a little drizzle, I thought. Definitely not enough to rain out a romantic moment. A grumble of thunder in the distance argued with me.

“Well at least wait until I’m finished,” I said to the sky. “You can hold off for an hour or two, can’t you?”

In response, lightning flashed across the sky, splitting the clouds open. So, I guess mother nature wasn’t exactly on my side. I was drenched through to the skin in under a minute. It had been deadly dry for a month; the side streets would flood rapidly, and the gravel road which led to my house could be washed away entirely. It happened every couple of years, deepening the hollow by an inch or two every time.

The storm had taken everyone by surprise. Main street was full of cars, which was unusual. People usually sat out the first hour or so of these, long enough to see which direction it would go. Sometimes it blew through with minimal damage; other times the storm sat in the sky and spun until it was all out of rain to dump on us. Huge puddles formed in the margins and gutters of the road, becoming waves as cars plowed through them, drenching me even more as I passed.

The only thing to do was keep my head down and move quickly. I doubted Kash would be at our meeting spot; he was stubborn, but he wasn’t suicidal.

Cold seeped through my skin and into my muscles, making me stiff in spite of the exercise. The roads had begun to empty. The cars which remained were driving slowly and weaving in and out of the painted lines—hydroplaning was apparently scarier than dipping into oncoming traffic.

Headlights lit the ground in front of me steadily.

Very, very steadily.

As I turned onto the next street, so did the headlights. I quickened my pace, but they stayed right beside me. My mind raced. If it was Lizzie, she would have rolled the window down and called out to me, telling me to get the hell in before I got swept away by the wind.

If it was Dad, he would have blared his horn and pushed the passenger door open. My neighbors would have at least saidsomething. I glanced behind me at the driver, but the rain was way too heavy. I could only barely make out the shape of a person’s head and even then, I couldn’t tell if said person was male or female.

I’m being irrational, I told myself. They’re just driving slow because they’re afraid of the rain. They aren’t following me. After all, there are only so many places to go in this town, and only so many ways to get there. Whoever it is, will turn off at this street up here. I walked and walked and the truck slowly drudged forward, past the street where I expected – and wanted – it to turn. Okay, maybe the next street. Definitely the next street!

I held my breath, waiting for the car to prove that it wasn’t following me. But it didn’t. The vehicle stayed with me all the way to the grocery store.

Every story my parents had ever told me about women being stalked, kidnapped, murdered, or worse raced through my head all at once. I was convinced now that this person, whoever it was, was after me with cruel intentions.

Heart racing and mouth dry, I ran into the store. People, I needed to be around people. They wouldn’t take me in front of a crowd. Kidnappers like their women stupid and weak and most importantly,alone.

Inside, I stood where I wouldn’t be seen from outside, but I could still see out the window. I watched the truck—a big green thing which might have been an SUV or a truck with a shell—hesitate for a moment, then continue on its way. A shaky breath of relief turned into a full-body shudder.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but you’re a hazard.”

“What?” I turned to face the voice, which belonged to a dark-haired teenager with an overwhelming gothic aesthetic in spite of her bright yellow uniform. She shot a pointed glance at the floor by my feet. I’d managed to create a rather large puddle.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I was just—sorry.”

She rolled her eyes and slammed a wet floor sign down beside me. Embarrassed, I slinked out of the store again. From beneath the awning, I watched the road, waiting. Maybe they’d just circled around. The truck wasn’t in the parking lot, which had been my greatest concern. I can make it to my road before they get back, I told myself. Adrenaline was making my head light. Channeling it into my legs, I bolted across the parking lot, dodging puddles—half of which hid ankle-killing potholes—until I met the trees on the other side.

My heart thundered in my ears and I laughed breathlessly. I must have looked ridiculous, and there was no need. The streets were completely empty now, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. If the truck had turned down a side street, there was a good chance it was stuck. Buzzing with the thrill of the real or imagined near-miss, I cut through the trees to the gravel road beyond.

I walked on that high until I came to that secret little hollow which was invisible from the road on one side and the trailers on the other. Then my heart dropped to my shoes. The truck was there, sitting sideways across the road with its lights off, blocking my path. I froze. I couldn’t get around it; there was a sheer drop on one side of the road, and trees too thick to get through on the other. I would have to go back, but to where? I had no idea who this was, or how patient they would be. It didn’t matter, I’d figure it out on the fly. I took one step backward, then screamed. As soon as I’d moved, the truck’s headlights had switched on. I turned to run, but the mud beneath the gravel made it slippery. My ankle twisted beneath me and I fell.

“Daisy!”

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