Jake loaded the remainder of the produce into the bed of the truck and slammed the tailgate. There was going to be some rough weather rolling in, and Pop would be in a bad mood for the rest of the day if these orders got pushed back. Climbing into the driver's seat, he glanced anxiously up at the mountain peak. The thunderheads that rolled and boiled just over its crest looked like they meant business.

He uttered a few colorful words under his breath and threw the truck into drive. He had gotten an early start, but it didn't look like it would be early enough to beat the storm.

Turning onto the main road, he guided the ancient Chevy toward town. In his head, he was quickly calculating the time it would take him to make each delivery. Just ahead, a dirt road veered sharply off to the left. Slowing for a moment, he considered his options. This particular road came out just a couple of minutes from what was supposed to be his last stop. If everything went ok he could work his way back home from there, and it would probably shave a good ten minutes off his delivery time.

He hesitated a moment longer, and then swung onto the red dirt road. Putting his foot to the gas, he watched the speedometer ease up a little higher than what was probably safe.

As he sped around the first curve, he saw something moving ahead. At first, he dismissed it as an animal, but when it broke free of the treeline he became convinced it was a child. What in the world is a kid doing out here alone with this weather brewing? He thought to himself.

The kid, whoever he/she was, had stopped when they spotted him, looking for all the world like a frightened deer. First slowing and then coming to a stop altogether, Jake hesitated, unsure of what he was seeing. Slowly easing the door open, he stepped cautiously out onto the road.

The individual stood completely motionless staring at Jake, who was undecided as to what his next move should be. The decision was made for him, however, when the small figure began to move resolutely toward where he stood. He could see almost immediately that his original impression had been wrong. The person limping toward him wasn't a child at all, but a grown woman.

She was favoring her right leg. The odd gait she ran with is what, he assumed, had given her the childlike appearance he had first observed. He started forward. Watching her trying to close the distance on her injured leg was excruciating.

As he came within a few feet, he saw that she was dirt-streaked from head to toe. Her blue eyes were large and wild and stood in stark contrast against the bruised skin of her face. The stunned fearful expression she wore reminded Jake of a raccoon he had once cornered in Pop's barn as a child. She was much too thin and her elbows and knees protruded sharply beneath the material of the thin slip she wore.

Somebody has really done a number on her, he thought to himself. Immediately, he began to glance around the field. If she looked this bad, he didn't think whoever had done this to her could be far behind.

"Are you ok?" He asked quietly.

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. The fact that she wasn't ok should be obvious to any idiot standing in front of her. She said nothing but continued trudging forward.

"What can I do?" He said, putting a hand on her arm. He couldn't ever remember feeling so utterly helpless in his life.

When she stopped and looked up at him he could see tears slowly working their way through the dust and grime that layered her bruised cheeks. The sight of her tears undid what little composure he had been maintaining. He realized, all at once, just how angry he was that someone could have treated another human being in this manner.

"I need to get out of here before they get back," she answered.

The sound of her voice was like music, strong and bell-like. Not at all the whisper, or whimper, he had expected. Something about that touched him deeply.

"Okay, hold on."

Without another word, he leaned forward and lifted her as gently as he could manage, carrying her like an infant toward the passenger side of the truck. Even so, a small moan managed to escape through her tightly pursed lips as her injured foot left the ground, but she offered no protest. Even in his haste he couldn't help but notice how thin she was, her small bones prominent through the thin fabric covering them.

When they reached the door, he swung it open with ease. She was too light for her weight to possibly be a burden. As he placed her gingerly in the seat, she craned her neck in every direction, trying to take in all angles at once.

"What if they come back?" She worried aloud, almost to herself.

He felt the anger rise up inside him again and he answered with a little more venom than he had intended. "If they come back I'll deal with it," he said in a growl.

She looked up, and her eyes met his for a brief moment. Whatever she saw there seemed to calm her, and she nodded before leaning back against the truck seat.

He closed her door and then moved around the front of the truck, examining the road and field around him as he did. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he climbed in and threw the truck into drive, heading for the hospital, his deliveries long forgotten.

"What's your name?" He asked her once they were safely away from where she had emerged from the woods.

"Emily. Emily Lansing," she said.

For a moment, he couldn't place where he had heard her name. He had definitely heard it recently. They were a couple of minutes down the road before the realization dawned on him.

It had been several weeks ago, and Jake and Pop had been at a little diner in town. The place was a morning hotspot for the older men who lived and worked nearby. They would stop in to have a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast before starting work for the morning. Most of them would spend the time swapping stories and gossiping, though if he had suggested the latter Pop  would have denied it vehemently.

The two men had just gotten their breakfast when someone passed Pop a copy of the Hart's Ridge Gazette. As the old man examined the front page, the conversation quickly turned to the day's main story.

It seemed a young woman, just a few years out of college, had disappeared from the parking lot of the only law office in town. Jake had managed to keep up with most of what they were saying, but when talk turned to whose daughter she was and whose grandkids she had graduated with, Jake had quickly lost interest.

What he did remember, was the attractive woman beaming up at him from the black and white photo. Her name had been listed underneath in small neat print, Emily Lansing.

"You're the girl that went missing almost a month ago!" He said, so surprised by his realization that he almost drove them off the road.

"Has it been that long?" She said, her tone was flat, maybe a little curious, but otherwise unaffected.

She's in shock, he thought to himself. She has to be. He watched her closely, trying to ascertain whether she was in any immediate danger. She leaned against the passenger door, shivering. Her small thin frame seemed to curl in on itself as she leaned her head against the glass.

"Yes," he answered finally, trying to keep the amazement out of his voice, "at least that long. Everybody's been looking for you. There were search parties and everything."

As they came to the end of the dirt road, he shifted it into park and leaned over the seat. The sudden movement startled her and she cowered against the passenger door, her thin fingers fumbling for the handle.

"Hey, hey, hey!" He said quickly, while inwardly kicking himself.
He should have realized she'd be jumpy.

"You're safe," he told her quietly, "look." He retrieved a large black leather jacket from behind the seat, sheepishly holding it out to her. "You looked cold. I thought this might help."

She nodded and cautiously took the jacket from him easing away from the door as she did so.

"I'm sorry, " she whispered, "Thank you."

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

She took a deep, shaky breath and then spread the jacket out, covering herself with it.

"I'm gonna make a quick call to the sheriff's office to let them know we're headed to the hospital," he said quietly. She said nothing, just nodded.

Laying her head against the side of the passenger door, she burrowed down into her makeshift blanket. Within moments, her breathing had become slow and even.

He pulled his cell phone out of the cupholder between the seats and dialed quickly drumming his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as he turned onto the main road. After what seemed  an eternity, someone answered in a deep, breathless voice.

"Loundes County Sheriff's Office, this is Robert Nolan speaking?"

"Hey, Bobby, this is Jake Merrill."

"Jake, how are you doing?"

"Well, truthfully, Bobby, things have been a little weird. I'm on my way up to East Memorial right now."

"Everything's ok, I hope. Is Pop alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine," Jake answered quickly, "it's just that I picked up a girl out on County Rd 5. She's in bad shape, Bobby, and she says somebody's after her."

"Do you know who she is?"

"Yeah. She says her name's Emily Lansing."

There was a long pause from the other end of the line, and when Officer Nolan spoke again, his  tone was brusque and official, all business.

"Ok, Jake, and you're positive, that's what she said?"

"One hundred percent."

"And she's with you now?"

"Yeah. She's asleep, but she's here."

"What did you mean when you said she's in bad shape?"

"Somebody worked her over pretty good, " he answered gruffly, hearing anger and frustration once again seeping into his words. "Her face is bruised up, and there's something wrong with her right leg, she can't put weight on it. She looks like she hasn't eaten in weeks."

He could hear typing from the other end of the phone as Bobby recorded his answers.

"Alright," he said quickly, "that should be good. I just needed to know what to tell Royce when I called. I imagine he'll be meeting you at the hospital. Thanks, Jake. You did the right thing."

"Anytime," he said quietly, glancing over at his sleeping passenger, "I wasn't sure. I didn't want to have to wait for an ambulance, in case whoever had her came back."

"No, I would have done the same thing. Just get her out to East, and I'll give Royce a call. Thanks again, Jake."

"No problem," he said before hitting the end button on his cell.

He glanced over at his still-sleeping passenger one last time and then turned back toward the road. He struggled to fight the anger that was rising up in him again, as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He couldn't believe that anyone would want to knowingly inflict this much damage on another person.

As large drops of rain began to fall heavily across the windshield, Jake sighed quietly. He had better call Pop. Emily wasn't the only person that would need rescuing once the old man found out the orders hadn't gone out. The first rumbles of thunder were just beginning to roll across the dreary morning landscape when Jake picked up his phone to call home.