“Damn!” She needed bright lights and human beings, not this endless stretch of highway with torrential rain. She drove steadily, staying in the right lane, praying for her first glimpse of the overhanging green-and-white sign indicating a turnoff. It was raining harder, a strong wind whipping up. A thunderbolt. of sound almost ruptured her eardrums as a jagged streak of lightning ripped across the sky. A late-summer storm. She certainly knew about daily summer storms living in South Carolinaâstorms that could last fifteen minutes or two hours.
Annie wanted to sing her relief when she saw the overhead sign directly ahead, swinging in the wild wind. She slowed the car, eyes peeled to the right for the turnoff one mile down the road. She risked a glance in her rearview mirror to see what the car behind her was doing. The glimmering lights looked like they were slowing, too. The relief she'd felt at the sight of the sign turned to anxiety. If she did get off the exit, where would it take her? Would there be a motel or restaurant? Was it just a gas station or truck stop that served food? For all she knew it might just be a rest stop with a bathroom facility, vending machines, and dog runs for weary travelers with children and pets. There was no way she would get out of her car if it was a rest stop, no matter how well lighted it was.
She would have missed the turnoff again if it hadn't been for a vicious streak of lightning that lit up the sky. She reduced her speed to fifteen miles an hour as she rounded the curve that would take her to a secondary road. It was black as tar as she crept along, the headlights six or seven car lengths behind her. Maybe the driver was as tired as she was. Maybe the driver had missed the Roanoke Rapids turnoff the way she had. Maybe he or she just wanted to get out of the storm like she did. She switched on her high beams, hoping to see the sign she knew would be at the end of the exit road. The driving rain made it impossible to see the sign. Her options were to go left or right. Which way? She opted for right and turned on her signal light. The car behind her followed suit. Perhaps he was depending on her taillights to guide him. Her neck muscles felt so rigid she could barely turn her head to either side. All about her was darkness, with no other vehicular traffic. The shimmering headlights behind her followed as she shifted the 4-by-4 into first gear to crawl down the dark, steep, curvy road.
Fifteen minutes later, Annie knew she was in trouble when there was still no sign of any other kind of traffic or habitation. She risked a glance at her gas gauge. Almost on E. That was why she'd wanted to get off at the Roanoke Rapids exit. Once the gas gauge light came on, she had five gallons left. With seventeen miles to the gallon, conceivably she could drive eighty-five miles to get to a gas station, if she was lucky enough to find one open at this hour of the night. Where in the hell was she? She wished now she'd called Elmo to tell him she was leaving. “Always after the fact, Annie,” she muttered as she strained to see through the driving rain. Where was her cell phone? Had she put it in her purse or her carryall bag? And where was the gun Elmo and Tom insisted she carry with her? In the carry bag, along with the cell phone in the cargo area of the 4-by-4. A lot of good either one of them would do her now. Even if she did have the cell phone and gun, she knew they would be worthless to her. Never in a million years could she shoot someone. She'd only gotten the Glock to shut both men up. The cell phone would be worthless out here in nowhere land.
The headlights of the vehicle behind her were still shimmering in her rearview mirror. She'd never been this tired, this wired up in her whole life. Who was the person behind her? Friend or foe? Elmo's ominous words rang in her ears.
What if I die out here? Who would find me? More to the point, when would I be found? Don't think about things like that. Think about all the dreams you had. Think about the relief you felt when you finally sent the rest of the money to the bank.
The warning light for the gas gauge flashed on, once, twice, then remained steady. Eighty-five miles to go. Possibly she could drive an hour and a half if she were going sixty miles an hour. She had no idea how long the gas would last the way she was crawling along.
Overhead, thunder rolled like an angry bongo player bent on destroying his drums. Lightning danced across the sky. She saw trees and fields and deep ditches along the side of the road and nothing else.
The lights behind her remained steady. If she wanted to, she could put the utility truck she was driving to the test. The video she'd watched with such intensity said it could do
anything,
including going up steep mountains, going down steep mountains, fording rivers and gorges, driving faster than a pack of wolves. If the person following her, and she knew now that was exactly what was happening, thought she knew what she was doing and where she was going, she could make a turn to the right or left, go down and up the ditch, and hope and pray to God she didn't hit a tree on the upswing. She needed another bolt of lightning to show her the way clear. If the person following her was driving a regular car, even if it had four-wheel drive, he'd never be able to cross the ditch. Did she dare risk it? What if she got stuck? What if she didn't shift quick enough? The video said that would
never
happen. If this vehicle's makers said it could prevail on the frozen tundra, the African jungles, and the Sahara Desert, then it should be able to cross a North Carolina
ditch. Go for it, Annie
.
Annie continued to drive, waiting for lightning to light the sky. Thunder rolled overhead, but the lightning was slow in coming. That must mean the storm was moving north. Or maybe it was east. She wished she could look at the watch on her wrist. The lights behind her seemed closer. Annie's throat closed up tight. She felt an adrenaline rush as a bolt of lightning finally zipped across the sky. She didn't think twice as she cut the wheel to the left, floored the gas pedal, and took off. She was jolted forward, but kept her foot to the pedal. The Rover strained, bucked, shot backward, then forward, clearing the ditch. “Way to go, Annie!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. An open field lay directly in her line of vision. The twin set of headlights didn't seem to be moving. That had to mean the driver was stuck in the ditch, or he'd stopped in time to avoid going nose down.
Now, if she could just figure out where she was, she would be okay. When she turned on the overhead light to look at her watch, the compass part of the Swiss mechanism told her she was going southwest. Before she searched out her map she needed to crawl into the back for her carryall bag. If nothing else, the cell phone and the gun would give her a false sense of security. She felt another adrenaline surge as she stuck the Glock into the waistband of her jeans. The cell phone went into her denim shirt pocket. Sooner or later she'd be in range and she'd be able to call Elmo and Jane on the cell phone.
The car's headlights were still faintly visible. That had to mean her lights were visible as well. Would the driver of the car realize she was at a standstill or was he incensed that he was stuck in a ditch? There wasn't
that
much distance between them. Possibly a half mile at the most. She needed to move and she needed to move
now
.
Annie shifted gears and knew instantly her back wheels were mired in mud. Lots and lots of mud. She must be in some kind of cow pasture, and of course there was mud. She climbed from the car, the flashlight from the console in her hand. If there was ever a time to throw a hissy fit, this was it. There was no way she could hope to get the Rover out of the mud. Only a tow truck with a top grade winch was going to get this truck out. She looked down at her feet and saw only mud. She struggled to pull her right foot out and heard a loud
glop
. She lifted her other foot out of the mud and heard the same sound. Damn. She was going to need
wings
to get out of this mess. There was nothing behind her but total blackness and driving rain. She squinted, trying to see if the car's headlights were still on. She simply couldn't tell.
Move, move, move,
her mind shrieked
. Get out of this mud and get out now. Move, girl!
Moving in the ankle-deep mud was the single most torturous thing she'd ever done in her life. Where were her guts and willpower? In the fucking mud, that's where. The wind whipped at her face and hair, doing its best to send her backward, but her tenacious hold in the thick mud prevented it. Rain lashed at her from the front and back. She was moving, but only by instinct. She couldn't keep her eyes open and needed both arms for balance so she didn't fly forward into the gloppy mud. This was not where she should be with all the lightning playing across the sky. She needed cover. Even a fool knew lightning loved open fields. Acres and acres of endless fields. Where were the damn trees she'd seen earlier? Left or right? For one brief second the entire field turned light as day. Trees to the left. Not many but some. Maybe they would lead to other denser wooded areas. She turned, but her feet remained mired in the mud, forcing her forward. Before she knew what was happening, she was facedown in the mud. She started to curse, using every unmentionable word she'd ever heard until her mouth filled with mud.
Annie struggled to get to her feet as rain slammed at her from all sides. It was impossible, and she knew it. Better to crawl on all fours and hope for the best. Somewhere along the way she'd lost her shoes. She moved as fast as she could then when she heard a sound she couldn't identify. Would a man be able to make better time in the mud? Would his height and weight help him move faster than she was able to do? She crab-walked as fast as she could, her heart beating like a triphammer. Where was he? How close was he? Did he know she'd veered off to the left? Was he dumb enough to head across the field with the lightning ripping across the sky? Did he even care?
Annie started to cry when she realized how little headway she was making. She was so tired, and she ached with the strain of moving through the thick mud. She stopped, falling forward again.
Please, God, help me. Please give me the strength to get up and move. Please
.
She heard it again, the same strange noise she'd heard before. This time the sound seemed to be coming from the trees, the same trees she was trying to reach. Maybe the person chasing her had seen the same trees and gotten there ahead of her. Well, she still had the gun tucked into her jeans. She knew now she was capable of using it if she had to. Tom and Elmo were right. Faced with a do-or-die situation and the gun was the only way she'd walk away safe, she'd use it. If she got the chance, she could always aim for the person's kneecaps. She wondered if the barrel was full of mud and, if so, would it fire? She'd probably kill herself in the bargain. She shook her head to shake off some of the thick mud that was filling her ears and nose.
Leapfrog, Annie. Do it. Do it now,
a voice inside her head warned. Annie obeyed, then she was out of the mud and on soaking-wet pine needles.
Exhausted, she rolled over and let the rain beat down on her. For one wild, crazy moment she thought someone was
licking
her face. She must be delirious. She rolled over again and suddenly felt a solid weight on her back. Frightened out of her wits, she tried to make her tongue work. “Who are you? What do you want? I don't have any money. I'm half-dead. Leave me alone,” she pleaded as she tried to work her hand down to her waistband for the Glock.
“Woof!”
Annie rolled over, struggled to sit up. She couldn't see the animal, but she could feel his breath on her face. “Oh, God, oh, God! Come here, you dear sweet thing. Let me touch you. God, you're real. You're really real. Please, God, don't let this be a wild dog.”
The dog woofed again, louder this time.
“Same to you, fella. I need some help here.”
More barking.
“Yeah, okay,” Annie said as she sensed the dog moving in the darkness. She was on her feet and moving, too. Obviously that was what the dog wanted. Maybe he would lead her someplace safe. Maybe to the owner of all these fields. “I'm coming, I'm coming.”
Annie fell four times during the long trek. All four times the dog turned to wait, licking her face, barking in her ear until she thought her head would explode. Each time she got up and staggered after the dog. She wished she knew what he looked like. Maybe the dog was a she. Female dogs were very protective. But then so were male dogs.
“Woof!”
“Lights!” Annie said hoarsely. “Listen, dog, I can't make it. You're going to have to go and get someone. Your master. Your mistress. When I fell the last time I think I did something to my knee. This is as far as I can go. The rest is up to you.” Annie lurched drunkenly, then fell. The dog, uncertain, whined softly. “Go get help. Please, dog, go get help,” Annie whimpered.
She felt the dog move, knowing he'd recognized the urgency in her voice. Then there was nothing but blackness.
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She felt herself being picked up, felt the rain beating on her face and body. Her knee felt like it was on fire. She knew she was safe because she could hear the dog whining and whimpering. Or were the sounds coming from her? She didn't know, and she didn't care. She was safe. That was all she cared about.
“Good boy, Jake. I can take it from here,” the giant said.