Page 1 of Road Trip
Chapter One
July 2014
Abra
Ahhhh…school’s out for summer! Work hard all year, two and a half months of vacation. Greatest gig in the world, right? Actually, I really did have it good. As a counselor at a continuation high school, I worked my ass off nine months of the year with the most desperate kids. Every day at work required me to be like a triage nurse: evaluate each case for its severity, apply literal or emotional bandages, and refer out what I couldn’t handle. I had two hundred kids relying on me to help them get their lives back together and I gave my all to the cause, often at the expense of my own well-being. Therefore, I allowed myself to play hard every summer, and playing hard for me meant going to as many concerts and festivals as I could squeeze in. Sweaty, hot, and loud…that was what I needed, and I was about to have a fantastic fix this weekend, even if I was flying solo for the first time in a long time.
Interstate 5 ran the length of California and driving it was always an adventure. Running only two lanes in each direction, it was a constant game of Frogger trying to avoid the big rigs, tumbleweeds, assholes speeding in their Smart Cars—
Oh, hell no!I was not about to be passed by a damn Smart Car in my 2010 Mustang GT. There were some things that could not stand. The speed limit was seventy, I was going eighty, and this old guy was passing me at eighty-five.Uh uh. I stepped on the gas and flew right by him, my metal road trip soundtrack urging me to step on it.
Heavy metal was honestly the soundtrack of my life. It allowed me to sing and scream along and get out all the aggression, anger, frustration, sadness, and yes, depression that my job brought along with it. Healer heal thyself? Yes, please. Some Korn would do just fine, thank you.
In fact, I was headed to see Korn this very weekend. I was going to headbang, crowd surf, people watch, and just fucking LIVE! If only I didn’t have a seven-hour drive ahead of me. Oh well. It would be worth it.
I drove the 580 to get out of the Bay Area and the traffic on this Friday night was killing me. I’d waited to leave until ten o’clock, figuring I’d miss the traffic that way. No such luck. It seemed many of the East Bay’s inhabitants had the same idea: beat the dog days of summer by getting out of town. On the road there were tour buses, fifth wheels, RV’s towing cars, and big trucks towing boats…it was insanity.
My first pit stop of the night was an hour into the trip. Why did I do this to myself? Someday I would learn to not start my trip with a 44 oz. Diet Coke. There were a few families with screaming kids hanging around, despite the late hour, and others walking their dogs. I stood in line for the restroom and got back in my car as soon as I could to avoid any unwanted attention. Dressing the way I did usually kept people away from me, but there was always some jackass who saw a woman alone at night and figured she might “need some good lovin’.”Barf.
Growing up in a rough neighborhood in Hayward, I’d learned at an early age to take care of myself. I had no father to speak of, and Mom wasn’t really available if I ran into trouble. After a few neighborhood scraps with the boys, I learned what I needed to survive. Looks could be deceiving, and heaven help someone who was deceived by my diminutive stature. These skills came in handy with my clientele. The kids didn’t mess with Ms. Mora.
I managed to make it another three hours without having to stop. Barely. By the time the next rest stop came into view I was nearly in tears from the pain in my bladder. I’d been contemplating which would be worse, cleaning up an accident in the car, or copping a squat in the wide-open space next to the road. Luckily I didn’t have to resort to either of those.
I pulled off the interstate and breathed a sigh of relief that not much was happening at this rest stop. I’d been pushing ninety miles an hour for some time now and I’d left most of the other traffic behind. There were only a couple of big rigs parked on the side closest to the highway, and one other car near the restrooms. It was nearing three in the morning and I wasn’t the least bit tired, so when my headlights illuminated the horrific scene in front of me, I knew I hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and succumbed to a nightmare.
Two guys were beating on somebody, who fell to the ground as another guy splashed liquid out of a red can onto him. Before I could think, I laid on the horn and revved my meaty Mustang engine. The growl from the V-8 was enough to send the rough-looking guys scattering. They piled into a van I hadn’t seen parked out of the light. The van and the lone car peeled out and sped off down the on-ramp.
I scanned the area and didn’t see anyone else. We were miles from civilization, but thankfully I had a signal as I reached for my cell. The operator I reached assured me she’d have responders out ASAP.
“Can you tell me if the person is breathing?”
“Yeah. I think so. I saw him go down, but…I can go check.”
“Only if it’s safe, ma’am. Do you see anyone else around?”
“No. Just a couple of big rigs two rows over. Let me go see.”
I prayed that the guy was still breathing as I climbed cautiously out of my Mustang and hurried around to the trunk where I grabbed a Mag-Lite that was as big around as my arm. I kept the phone to my ear and tried to control my breathing.I’d broken up many fights at school, some of the kids being the size of full grown men, but this was out of my element and I was shaking in my boots.
I remained aware of my surroundings as I crept over to the man lying on the ground. I could make out black work boots, black utility pants, a vest covering a plain white T-shirt…Holy shit!
“It’s a cop,” I whispered to the operator.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I think so. There’s no police car anywhere. Oh God. I smell gasoline.” It was burning the shit out of my nostrils. The operator asked me more questions, but my heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear her and most likely hung up on her.
I stepped up next to the man on the ground and could see he was breathing heavy. I heard soft moans as I knelt next to him and touched his shoulder.
Kelly
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled. I was trying to get my bearings, but my adrenaline was pumping so hard, all I could hear was my own heartbeat for a moment. I thought they’d all left after stealing my car and pulling off my uniform shirt. I sat up quickly, reaching for my weapon. Gone. I tried to get to my feet, but all I succeeded in doing was staggering around before falling against something, or someone soft.
“Ooof! Relax! You’re safe now. They’re gone. Dude, you weigh a ton. Stop moving and I’ll help you.” Her high-pitched voice shocked me into a little bit more of a coherent state. I couldn’t see anything other than the halo of the flashlight she’d dropped. I lunged for it, nearly falling on my ass, and spun around.
“Fuck! That’s really bright, dude. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you. Help is on the way, okay?”
This tiny creature in front of me looked more like a rag doll than a potential threat. Torn up stockings stuck up out of black combat boots, a short black dress draped over her small frame, and she was looking at me like I was the crazy person in this scenario.
