A Summer Escape

My hip joints ached as though each leg had been ripped off and crudely reattached by Doctor Frankenstein. I peeled myself out of the driver's seat of the old 1992 Dodge minivan and ventured out into the blistering heat of New Mexico. I was fairly certain Albuquerque should be coming up soon, but my need to stretch outweighed my curiosity.

New Mexico had always made me uneasy, with their elaborate, pretentious highway art, polished exteriors, and rundown, grungy insides. The whole package felt intentionally deceptive, like a gingerbread house still baking in an infernal oven but ready to lure in children for the wicked witch.

And it didn't help that the minivan's AC had quit somewhere in Oklahoma. In late July.

I quickly wrapped up my business with the gas pump and made my way inside the convenience store. I needed a cold drink, but something that wouldn't go right through me like soda was wont to do.

I wasn't immediately sure if the interior of the store was cooler than the inside of the baking minivan, but when the sweat under my arms and along my back turned frigid I decided this was an improvement. I wandered around aimlessly for a moment, appreciating the air conditioning, letting my legs move, and taking in the crowd.

The place was busy, crawling with locals and travelers alike. The locals were easy to spot, with their dark hair and distrusting eyes. I wasn't sure how I stood out so blatantly to them. My hair was dark. My skin more mocha than milk. But somehow they knew. Perhaps it was the sweat stains that covered the armpits and back of my shirt.

I decided to pick a beverage and go. I stood by the glass refrigerator doors scanning the selection carefully. Unfortunately, they had less than half the options I'd gotten used to seeing at other stops. Just when I was on the verge of grabbing a five dollar bottle of water, someone whispered behind me.

"Don't turn around." Her voice was soft but urgent. The words came out staccato and quick.

I didn't turn around, but I had to freeze my whole body in order to fight the urge.

"I need your help," she said. Again, her delivery was rhythmically tight, as though interjecting in the brief moments when an observer's ears were blinking.

"I have to get out of here. Can I ride with you?"

I started to turn around.

"No! Not while we're on camera," she hissed. I glanced up with my eyes only, holding very still, and saw that there were, indeed, security cameras in the corners of the store.

"Mine is the old blue-gray Dodge minivan by the pumps," I said. " It's unlocked, but there are probably cameras outside too."

My heart was racing. Why would she be avoiding the cameras? Why was I so willing to help? What if she wanted to rob me? The tension and fear in her voice was apparent, but could it be an act? Who was she? What was going on?

I waited, barely able to focus on anything but my pulsating veins. I was so nervous a new sheet of sweat had formed on my forehead and neck. Someone approached and reached tentatively for the glass door handle in front of me.

"Excuse me," he whispered awkwardly.

I stepped back, casually glancing around. There was no girl. Just the man and a small family milling their way through a nearby candy aisle.

I released a tense sigh and cleared my head. Maybe it was a weird prank. I chuckled to myself, imagining some teenager filming such an encounter on a cell phone and posting it to social media. At least it wasn't more nefarious. Pretty harmless as far as pranks go.

I checked out and exited back out into the sweltering mid-day sun's domain. I rolled my eyes and sighed, dragging my feet across the parking lot. Another four or five hours, I told myself. Then I'll stop for the night. Of course, if I pushed through Arizona I could make it all the way to Las Vegas before it got too late, plus a lot of that driving would be after sundown.

I groaned. Why wasn't I doing more of my driving early in the morning and late at night? Perhaps I felt I deserved my fate.

I climbed back into the van, buckled up, started the engine, and pulled away from the pumps. The moment I entered the ramp for I-40 West, I shook, swerved, and had a heart attack when a voice piped up from the back seat.

"Oh thank you!" She was quiet and pleasant enough, but the possibility of a stowaway was so far from my mind that it took me by complete surprise.

"You were serious!" I yelled, frantically turning around for a look at my new passenger. The vehicle veered dangerously close to the edge of the road and I nearly overcorrected. While I focused on getting back in my lane, the woman climbed up into the passenger seat.

I guessed she was in her late twenties or early thirties, pretty close to my age. She had hair as black as the night pulled back into a single long braid that draped elegantly over a shoulder and got buckled in when she fastened her seat belt. She directed the most magnificent turquoise eyes at me, wearing a massive smile on every muscle in her face.

She let out a giant rush of air, puffing her cheeks out before the powerful grin overwhelmed her features again. Her little button nose crinkled. "Why are you so surprised?" she asked innocently.

"Who are you?" I sputtered, knowing that there were a dozen better questions, and a hundred more appropriate things to say, such as this is not normal behavior!

"I'm Rachel," she said. "What's your name?"

"Kevin," I said slowly, my mind-gears grinding and squealing their way through the situation. "What is going on? You disappeared back there. I didn't think you'd really hitch a ride. Why do you need a ride? Where are you going?" I took a breath, pulling in the reins.

She laughed, a musical sound that filled my ears with joy. "Kevin," she repeated. "Nice to meet you." She turned to face me. "Thank you again," she said. "I couldn't risk being seen on camera with you. I just hope I snuck into your van without it being too obvious."

"Why?" I asked. "Why the secrecy? Are you..." A criminal? I wanted to ask.

She exhaled sharply through her nose and her voice took on a grim, heavy tone. She spoke slowly, laboring her way through the words. "I... don't want to talk about it, yet." She said. "Don't worry though," she said, more animated. "I haven't broken any laws, I promise. I'm just trying to escape a bad situation. I want to start over somewhere new. And I didn't want people thinking you kidnapped me or were in on it."

In on what? I wondered.

I stared at her and my right tire began vibrating violently as it came into contact with the grooves outside my lane. I swerved sharply away from the edge of the road and glanced back at her. "Why me though?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I had a good feeling about you," she said. Then, in an innocent, playfully concerned voice, "was I wrong?"

I chuckled through my nostrils and shook my head. "I have no idea," I said. I looked back in her direction briefly and felt my heart swelling. She had her eyes on me and she was smiling.

"So..." she started, her voice trailing off as she directed her eyes down at her feet. "Are you single?"

I decided we were definitely stopping in a few hours. Las Vegas could wait.