Allison

I blow out a breath and try to think meditative thoughts as I stare determinedly out the window at the slowly setting sun.

We are heading south, that much I know for certain, and the forests and flowing grass has long since melted away to barren slopes and sparse spiny things that hardly count as plants. Periodically, small smudges in the distance indicate little towns and trailer parks that mark out places humanity is trying to carve out a simple living.

I chance a look at the silent driver next to me, and my throat swallows convulsively. This isn't the kind of place you want to be driving through as a woman hitchhiking across the country.

Trying not to let my mind wander to those dark places, I turn to the driver of this beat-up truck and smile cheerily.

"So where are we heading again?" My voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

For a moment my mysterious driver doesn't respond, just stares intently at the road unfolding before us.

"Ellenwood." He finally says.

He has a deep baritone voice that is almost musical, and I catch an accent in the way it curls around his words. Something foreign, but I can't quite place it. My eyes trail from the large hands and elegant fingers gripping the steering wheel up to the flawlessly rich ebony of his exposed arms.

Feeling mildly emboldened, I continue up higher to the corded muscles of his biceps only marginally concealed by his plain black shirt. I note a tattoo peeking out from underneath the hem of his sleeve, the bottom of some kind of Celtic knot I surmise.

My gaze wanders further up taking in the high cheekbones, the heavy-set eyebrows. I follow the path of natural progression studying his hooded eyes as they focus on the road in front of us. They are a curious mixture of warm amber and clear gold. I take in the small silver hoop in his ear, the shaved and stylized pompadour swoop of his dreads.

I stare for a beat longer thinking maybe he has something more to put forth. Apparently not though. He stays silent and never bothers to glance my way.

Ok, well at least I don't have to worry about him being too interested. That's a good thing. Right?

He at least told me his name, grunting it at me when I flagged him down at the gas station the trucker dumped me at a few miles back.

I'd been sitting there for several hours watching the workers and travelers mill about their business of everyday life. How many were on vacation I'd wondered idly. How many just showing up to the dusty building as part of a daily grind destined to wear them down till old age took place of youthful resolve? Did they have any dreams or aspirations? Then again, did I?

"Warner?"

He spares me a glance before returning his eyes to the road.

"Allison."

I lick my dry lips and take another stab at conversation, "So do you live in Ellenwood or are you just visiting?"

Another long pause, this time I'm sure he won't answer. "I live there."

He huffs softly then adds, "I travel around a bit for...work but then I come home."
His words are oddly stilted like he isn't used to speaking.

Or maybe he's just shy, I muse to myself.

That would explain why he won't take more than a quick glance in my direction every now and then. I ignore the odd tightness in my stomach at the thought. It's not like I want him to look at me, he is, after all, a stranger giving me a ride in the middle of nowhere.

Not that there really is much to look at.

The thought slides into my head before I can block it. Years of life's harsh reality stabbing at my self-confidence will do that to a girl though.

I know I'm not ugly, the delicate little doll look is what usually brought foster parents to me. At first anyway. Unfortunately, that perfect veneer had often slipped in their eyes when faced with my too rough around the proverbial edges personality. No one ever wanted to adopt the little girl with a blatant knack for mischief.

Not that I hadn't tried to be sweet and everything they wanted me to be of course, but it seemed that hearing what someone was saying and actually obeying what they wanted were two very different spheres in my world.

My fingers slip up to caress the tiny diamond stud in my nose, a snap decision I'd made after leaving my latest – and last- foster parents house. I'd hoped it would make me look older or at least scrub this soft and delicate look I seem to carry around like a funeral shroud. I'm not sure if it makes much difference to anyone else, but this little touch of independence does to me.

Pulling myself back from the thoughts that were settling around me I sneak another glance at Warner.

Sure, maybe he is shy.

It just doesn't explain why his nostrils keep flaring, and odd little tick of his I keep noticing as the hours slip by. It's a bit unnerving the way he keeps drawing in air to his nose like that, like...like he's sniffing at me or something.

Universe, if you have any care of me in this world please don't let me be stinking up this man's truck.

Not seeing anything else to talk about, I let the conversation drop.

Just as well, I ponder to myself. It wasn't exactly passing the time or anything. Besides impassive silence is definitely better than leery questioning.

Generally speaking, a person willing to pick up a lone woman at an out of the way gas station probably isn't prone to prying, but still. There had been a few overly interested parties I'd had to dodge on my journey.

And not all of them had felt benevolently interested.

I do however lean my head down and as surreptitiously as possible I give myself a quick sniff, wondering if maybe that quick shower at the last rest stop didn't quite do the trick. My clothes certainly don't smell laundry fresh, but I would hardly say I stink. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see Warner's lips quirk.

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It's been a few painfully silent hours of looking out at the expanding night when Warner slows the truck to the side of the highway, steering it to a dusty exit I might have missed had I been the one driving. A fact I would blame on the lack of signage around announcing where the hell we are.

I stiffen in my seat as the tires exit the safety of pavement and take us down a desolate dirt road. now I'm surrounded by an empty field and a seemingly endless barbed wire fence broken up only by periodic wooden posts.

The sun had set hours ago and my eyes suddenly train themselves on what the dim lights of the truck reveal; stucco colored dirt zipping past and moths swarming at the lights.

Trying to be as casual as possible, I rest a hand on the door handle, my fingers curling around the lever. It's becoming increasingly hard to ignore the pounding of my heart, and I swallow thickly, swiping my tongue over my cracked lips.

He speaks into the darkness of the truck causing me to jump in my seat at the sudden break in the silence. "This is the only turn on to the road leading into town. Ellenwood is...a small town. We don't put up signs because we don't particularly like tourists and there is nothing to interest them anyway."

He gives me a pointed look here, those crazy amber gold eyes flashing in the shadows. I ignore him while I keep my fingers clenched around my only exit.

If this wasn't turning in to a potential life or death situation I might have reminded him that he hadn't offered me any other alternative at the gas station. I either went where he was going or found someone else to tote me around.

Suddenly, he slows the truck to a 30mph crawl which only causes my heart to hammer harder in my throat as I peer desperately into the darkness.

It may be dark, but I can clearly see that there is no town around here, not one for miles at least. In fact, there is nothing around us at all and no one to hear me scream if my quiet friend here decides to go on a murder spree.

Not considered a spree if there was only one victim.

I quickly shut that particular thought down and lift my chin in a defiant mask that I know oh so well. I readjust my grip on the door and make sure that my backpack isn't tangled around my legs to stop me from making a break for it if this guy decides to go postal.

Stupid, stupid, stupid to hitchhike across the freaking country alone. Stupider still since you have no family or friends for that matter. No one to notice if you become another body dumped out here.

I sit like this for a few tense minutes, sneaking glances at him while he drives with one graceful hand on the wheel. The epitome of relaxation. More so I realize than I have seen him for the last five or six hours. 

Interesting.

"Why did you slow down so much?" I finally demand after several more minutes crawl by. My voice thankfully sounds far more aggressive than I can actually back up.

"So that if you decide to take a flying leap out of my truck you won't become a bloody lump on the side of the road." He is surprisingly verbose now, and dammit if he doesn't even sound a little amused.

"And why would I need to do that?" I retort again with that cool confident voice that doesn't match the quaver in my arms and legs.

Am I antagonizing him? Should I be doing that? Does he want me to jump out? Maybe some kind of sick hunting thing or-

"You tell me. You are the one with the death grip on that door handle. One unfortunate bump in the road and you might go flying out by yourself anyway." He's smiling now, showing off a full set of glaringly white teeth.

Definitely amused. Where was the quiet awkward guy I rode in with? Suddenly I much prefer him.

My lips twitch in response despite myself.

He makes that straight quiet huffing noise under his breath again, and I feel the motor of the truck whine in protest as he speeds up a bit more.

"Happy?"

"Maybe," I concede, eyeing him warily. "Did I offend you?" The question slips out before I even know it.

He turns suddenly, capturing my eyes for the first time. I feel curiously trapped in his amber gaze turned intently serious. I shift uncomfortably, my fingers tighten on my escape route, but I don't look away.

"Self-preservation is a good habit to practice Allison, it doesn't offend me at all." His accent seems closer to the surface now, and I wonder if I've skimmed some kind of nerve.

Finally, I can't help it. I can't make myself meet the challenge in his gaze and feeling strangely subdued, I look away.

"Pay attention to the road," I mutter unwilling to concede the full battle. If it was a battle. Which it probably wasn't.

He barks out a laugh that is rich and full and despite myself, I can feel my muscles relaxing again. More than they have this entire time. Or maybe that is just me responding to the fact that he seems to be calming, loosening himself up from the statue he has been this entire time.

Bit by bit I loosen my grip and straighten myself in the seat, and annoyingly enough he is right. The little country road we are on now isn't paved, and it seems to delight in jostling me around. 

I watch him now, not even bothering to hide it because honestly, I'm pretty sure he has been utterly aware of me this entire time whether he deigns to glance my direction or not. It's just the aura of control he seems to be exuding I decide, a dominating presence he isn't even aware of and-

Another sudden bump makes my teeth clack together and that's when I realize why his smile keeps getting wider.

"Stop it," I snap, barely keeping my own laughter out of my voice, "You're hitting every bump in the road on purpose to slingshot me around."

Another bark of rich amusement bellows from his lips, and a smile tugs harder at my own.  He laughs harder when he notes the fact that I am now gripping the seat with two hands determined not to give any room to the sway of the truck as we trundle along.

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