Page 8 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
When she’d rolled up, the evening sun still had a couple of hours on it. Aware of her tendency to wander, she’d brought out her spool of pink twine—a low-lift deterrent to staying on track. True to form, Skye tied thin, brightly hued string to trees on her treks through unfamiliar forest, then snipped them on her way back, like her granddad taught her.
Skye knew not to go in too deeply, focusing on the edges or clearings. Uncomplicated. Her canvas shoes crunched through leaves, twigs, thick grass, and then, before Skye noticed the setting sun, she discovered a decent group of blueberries. A little shrimpy in size, but she tasted a couple, and they were worth the search.
She’d gathered what she needed, leaving plenty behind. Securing her small on-the-go harvest bag, Skye untwined the trees she’d marked on a longer walk than she’d realized. By thetime she reached the juniper green SUV, darkness swallowed up the terrain in all directions.
Only for her to dig into all her pockets and find no keys. No car keys and, disturbingly?—
Skye peeked at her phone lighting up from the passenger’s seat. Okay, that was on her. Foraging without modern technology. The keys weren’t locked in there; she definitely dropped them on her little foray by the wood.
That left her four handfuls of blueberries richer and a ride short.
The cicadas droned especially loudly that night, watching her like a soap opera, discussing how she’d get out of this mess. Alas, Skye had no idea. While she and nature were tight, her survival skills needed some fine-tuning.
She climbed onto the car hood, whining lightly. Her best friend, June, would never tire of the visual of Skye operating such a big vehicle. It was considered flirting when they were dating, but softened to friendly ribbing once they chose the friend route again.
Skye ran her fingers over her hair, pushing the dark, increasingly sweaty strands back. Nightly critters of the multiple-legged variety weren’t a big deal to her, but even when the wind teased her cheeks, she pictured a colony of spiders.
“Glad it’s not raining,” she muttered, sliding onto the windshield. Luce had her running around all day for a major sale; her legs would give out if she dared to walk miles to anything open. She patted into her bag, plucking out one of the blueberries that lured her into this trap. A hint of tartness, just right. “And I won’t starve.”
The sky was beautiful, too. Constellations would keep Skye company, how they always did for generations before their salvation—or more often than not—their demise. She wiggledher knee at the slightest tickle, deterring anything nibbling her for dinner.
She scanned the stars, receiving a wink from the brightest one. Skye reached out, and it reacted, its glow overpowered galaxies in a streaming whiteness as it descended, too powerful to be contained by distance or atmosphere. Closer, closer, warm and imposing and engulfing Skye to?—
“Are you lost?”
Skye sat up, gasping, ass numb on the hard hood’s metal. She’d actually fallenasleep, and the star drawing her in was a car’s low headlights.
Lost?Wasshe lost?
She licked her lips, blinking at the sleek car stopped on the road. Not making out the person in the window clearly, she responded, “Geologically, no. Existentially, however...”
Looked like helpful strangers weren’t big on humor. From the car came a very bland, “Do you need help?”
A woman. That wasn’t as threatening. “I guess? I mean, yes. I...”
What did Skye want? A ride home without a key and phone? “I lost my keys.”
“Where? Are you on something?”
Her voice remained as bland as before, and yet, it compelled Skye to grin. If she’d foraged for shrooms, that would’ve been hilarious. She did a swishy motion towards the forest. “Not high, not drunk. Uh, I think I left them on the edge of the forest. It’s too dark to?—”
The car began rolling. For a minute there, Skye thought her luck had run out. But it veered off the road and onto the grass. Out stepped a woman, and in the limited light, her silhouette suggested someone of slight build, around Skye’s size. Skye could maybe fight her off if this went the way of the detective series Luce streamed. She slid off the hood and staredbecause this woman was in heels; was she a local coming home from work? The New York license plate answered that—nope. A visitor.
New York business lady popped her trunk, and Skye stuttered still. A gun or any weapon—including those sharp heels—would drastically tip the scales in head-to-head combat. What would Skye do? Smash blueberries in her face? Antioxidant her to death?
Instead of something to murder Skye in cold blood, the woman clicked on a handheld flashlight, dancing a harsh white circle across the grass. “Right outside the woods?”
Skye squinted for a better look at this person. The headlights kept her backlit and mostly indiscernible. She loved strangers-helping-strangers stories as much as the next person, but… “Really? How do you know I won’t jack your car?”
Interrogation-ready, the woman shot the flashlight at Skye. “Will you?”
She threw up an arm to protect her eyes. Strobed ghosts of the light tracked her gaze to the ground. “N-no. If I did, I’d probably lock the keys out of it, too.”
In silent, fluid steps, her suspicious aide shined into Skye’s SUV. Very cop-like. She tugged at the trunk, every door, bent to flash her torch underneath, and Skye nodded, acknowledging that a wise place to check. Standing, she asked, “Nobody’s going to come running from the dark forest to abduct me and peel off in my car? I’m going to end up an example on the news, aren’t I?”
Skye stayed rooted to the ground, taking in what she could. Crisp enunciation, on the razor-thin edge of reluctant and condescendingly amused. “I could say the same thing. You could be a predator.”
Business lady’s movements ceased with a scuff of her pointy heels. And she advanced on Skye closely enough for their nosesto nearly touch. Her eyes sized her up, screaming accusations in a single stare.
