Desperate to get out of the room, she shoved the table and chairs back to their spots. She moved to open the door.
“Amaliya,” Pete's voice rasped.
She turned toward him and saw his hand was reaching toward her.
His expression was full of desire and fear.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “For what...you are.”
“Me, too. Me, too.” She yanked the door open before she burst into tears and stepped out slowly. Looking both ways, she saw the parking lot was empty of people. Turning, she saw Pete's gaze was still fastened to her. “Forget me, then call 911.”
He nodded slowly, mesmerized.
She slammed the door shut.
Skirting the edge of the motel parking lot, she managed to make it to the road without anyone noticing her. Though she could feel the heaviness of the bag on her back, it didn't cause her any discomfort as she maneuvered through the darkness with greater ease than she ever had before. Her money tucked safely in her boot, she strode on toward the main highway and away from the hotel. The tiny town of Spooner lay ten miles down the road and she was glad to have it behind her. She hadn't even seen it this trip, but she had no desire to see its dying downtown or the old Sonic where she had worked diligently for years.
In the tall trees edging the road, she could hear the nocturnal animals making their rounds, hunting or scavenging for food. A few times, the forest fell silent when she drew too close to it. It was only one more confirmation that she was now a predator.
The low rumble of trucks sounded nearby and she picked up her pace.
A few cars passed her, but no one seemed to take notice of her striding along the edge of the trees. The intersection with the highway was brightly lit and a truck roared by on its way to Louisiana. Shreveport wasn't that far over the Texas border and for a moment she pondered trying to make it to New Orleans. Wasn't that where the vampires were supposed to live? Rubbing her long nose, she took this into careful consideration as she tried to remember the vampire novels she had read during her teens. New Orleans and France, maybe.
But she wanted to see her Grandmama. That was one thing she was sure of now that she was away from the motel. She wanted to see the only part of her family that seemed to give a damn about her. She wanted to see her grandmother and her cousin, Sergio. She wanted to say goodbye to them. And that meant heading to West Texas.
Adjusting her skirt just a little to make it shorter, she began to walk along the shoulder of the highway. She hadn't hitchhiked in ages. She had gotten into so much trouble with her Dad when he had found out she had run away as far as Nacogdoches. The lecture she had received her thirteenth summer of life still rang in her ears. But times were different now. Yes, the world was more dangerous, but she was too.
A few cars passed her without even slowing down. She could clearly see the passengers glance at her, then quickly away. They pretended she wasn't there so they wouldn't have to worry about a young woman stranded in the darkness. Nice.
Her boots scraped along the gravel shoulder as she hoisted her bag higher. Trying to look as non-threatening as possible, she raised her hand and put out her thumb as another car rolled by. This time the car slowed slightly, but the man in the expensive vehicle, which reeked of human power, kept going. She could still feel his eyes on her when the car passed. She turned to flip him off, hoping he'd catch her in the review mirror.
Another twenty minutes went by and she trudged along the highway wondering if anyone gave a damn anymore about young women stranded in the middle of nowhere. Well, not actually the middle of nowhere, since a town lay ten miles in both directions, but still it kind of made her wonder.
It was a beat up truck spray-painted turquoise that finally pulled over.
Its broken taillight still worked and the bright bulb inside the plastic beckoned to her as the tires spit off gravel as it stopped. Hurrying to the passenger door, she took in the garbage-strewn back of the truck and the smell of cat piss. The truck was so old the warped door was a bitch to open. It seemed to want to stay shut and it groaned as she yanked it hard.
Inside a woman stared out at her through the gloom occasionally illuminated by the headlights of a passing car. She had tangled red hair tied back from a haggard face that looked both cruel and desperate. A cigarette dangled from between the nicotine-stained fingers that gripped the steering wheel as she beckoned to Amaliya with her other hand.
“Get in.”
Sliding in, Amaliya said, “Thanks.”
The woman nodded slightly. “No prob.” She fished a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her plaid shirt and offered her one.
“Thanks,” Amaliya said with relief, and snagged one. She had tried to quit, but that seemed a moot point now. Lighting up, she took a deep drag and sank back into the seat with its gnarled springs and torn vinyl.
“Where you headed?”
“Dallas/Fort Worth, and then west from there,” Amaliya answered.
“Yeah?” The woman pulled back onto the highway. “I'm headed to Greenville.”
“That's some ways away,” Amaliya answered.
“Yeah, but its where my kids are.” The woman shrugged. “I'm going up there to get my kids back from my idiot husband.”
“Ah,” Amaliya answered, and took another drag.
The stench of beer and anger filled the cab.
Weird, she could smell anger. Or sense it.
“Yeah, he's a sonnabitch and I'm going to get my kids back and get them home to Corrigan.”
Amaliya nodded and tried to find a comfortable spot on the seat.
“I needed company, but no one would come with me. I'm glad you are here. What is your name?”
She hesitated, then said, “Liya.”
“That's weird. It Mexican? Lots of Mexicans up here now. Not that I don't like Mexicans, just lots of 'em here now.”
“It's Russian, I think. My Mom had a thing for names.”
“I'm Ruth.”
Amaliya nodded and wished the woman would shut up. It was now obvious that she was drunk and should not be on the road at all. Plus she reeked of liquor and cat urine.
“We'll be in Greenville in five hours, I think.”
“I can't go to Greenville,” Amaliya said softly. “Just drop me off near Dallas.”
“If you are in my gawddamn truck, you're going to gawddamn Greenville!” The woman's voice was shrill and demanding.
“Hey, aren't you supposed to wait a few hours before you act crazy,”
Amaliya snapped back.
“Don't you dare speak to me like that in my fucking truck! You're in my truck and you will do as I say!”
“You're out of your freaking mind.”
“You will do as I say or I will get you!”
The truck was now weaving all over the road.
Amaliya couldn't believe that not even five minutes had passed and now she had to deal with a batshit crazy woman.
“You got in my gawddamn truck so you'll do as I say. I'm going to go shoot the sonnabitch and get my kids.”
“Great! You're a homicidal crazy drunk.” Amaliya shook her head.
“Just fucking great.”
How the hell had she ended up with the craziest woman in the area?
It was good to see her luck was holding up.
“Look, whore, you're the one pimping yourself out by the side of the road begging to get fucked and killed. You're lucky I stopped and saved you from that!” Flecks of spittle hit the windshield as the woman screeched at her.
Amaliya looked down at the woman's feet to see a shotgun tucked down on the floorboard. With wry amusement, she saw the woman was wearing socks with plastic shoes.
“Oh, fuck this.”
Amaliya grabbed the wheel with one hand and punched the woman as hard as she could with the other. There was a sickening sound as the woman's head snapped back and she collapsed against the driver's door. Quickly sliding over toward the woman, Amaliya tried not to pay attention to the stench and pushed her foot onto the accelerator.
“That went downhill fast,” she muttered. But then again, who was going to pick up someone on a darkened road other than someone who was crazy?
With a little effort, Amaliya managed to keep the truck moving until she saw a turnoff. It was a narrow country road and she almost had to sit on the smelly woman's lap to maneuver onto it. The old truck sputtered along until she found a place to pull off under a canopy of trees. Shoving the vehicle into park, she slid back down the seat to the passenger side and sat there staring out at the night.
This had always been her luck. How she had not been beaten and raped when she had hitchhiked as a kid was beyond her. She had hoped to get to Dallas tonight, but this was not a good sign. Checking the clock, she saw it was nearly nine o'clock. It was four to five hours to Dallas depending on traffic and construction. Once there she would have to find a place to stay during the day.
Beside her, the awful woman was gurgling and snorting. Blood was trickling out of her nose and something was off about her breathing.
Turning on the overhead light, Amaliya saw more blood than she expected and flinched. She was stronger now and had to remember that. Despite the horrible smell emanating from the woman, the blood filled her senses with a heady promise. Flipping the light back off, Amaliya sat back in her seat and pondered the situation. She was a vampire, she needed to eat, and she needed to get to Dallas.
“Ah, fuck.” She sighed and eyed the woman.
***
The woman was slowly dying beside her. Her shallow breathing was annoying and the gurgling that occasionally came from her throat didn't sound good, but Amaliya was beyond caring. From the sound of the woman's heart, she would be dead soon. The stench of her was making Amaliya feel nauseous, but it was a relief to feel the woman's blood in her veins. Life filled her and she relished it.
Shoving the door open, Amaliya pulled her bag out and looked back at the crazed woman. It was better this way. The battered, stained and mutilated divorce decree that Amaliya had found on the floor revealed how warped the woman was. The kids and the ex-husband were safer with her gone.
Slamming the passenger door shut, she walked back toward the highway. There was no way in hell she was taking the old beat up truck. It stank too much and she didn't want to deal with the crazy bitch's body.
As she trudged along, her bag swinging against her back, she sighed.
It was freaking hard to be a poor-ass Texan vampire. Nothing about it was easy or fun.
Reaching the highway, she didn't even try to hitch. If someone stopped, good, if not, she'd keep walking until she got somewhere.
Though her mother had always wanted her to travel and experience life, she was sure this was not what Mom had hoped for.
An ambulance siren echoed out of the distance and she turned to watch it barrel down the road. With sad eyes, she wondered if it was Pete on the way to the big hospital in Nacogdoches. Silently, she prayed he would be okay. Or maybe it was more of a wish. She wasn't sure she could pray anymore.
She trudged along for almost twenty minutes before another small truck pulled over. The cab was crammed full of Mexicans as was the truck bed. They all looked tired and sweaty from a long day's work somewhere and two reached out to help her up into the back.
“Muchas gracias,” she said, hoping she didn't slaughter her Grandmother's language too bad.
They just smiled at her in response and then went back to staring into space as the truck sped back onto the highway. They all looked terribly fatigued and dirty. She was glad she had fed off the crazy woman and that their blood stained knuckles held no attraction for her now. She was sated and it was good.
Without her having to ask, the driver pulled into a truck stop that was brightly lit by huge lights that pierced into the darkness. Again, the men helped her down, and one handed her bag over. A few waved to her as the truck sped on and she raised a hand, feeling a hard lump in her throat at their kindness.
The heat from the truck stop was overwhelming. Massive semi-trucks sat growling in long rows. People were moving about, checking on their vehicles as others moved toward the huge building that housed a restaurant and convenience store. Walking across the asphalt, she felt a cold trickle flow down her back.
Whirling about, she looked into the darkness, fear blossoming inside of her.
He was here.
She knew it.
Felt it.
Walking backward, she stared out into the night and listened to the cars speeding down the highway and the engines rumbling all around her. The whine of air brakes and the laughter of men filled her ears, but still she could hear the Professor's voice in her mind.
Still alive? Doing well? I'm impressed.
She turned around and fled to the building as fast as she could.
Holding down her cowboy hat as she ran, she could feel the big bag beating against her back. In her haste, she tripped and fell smack into a puddle of oil and grimaced as it splattered her face. Terrified that she was being pursued, she quickly rolled onto her hip and looked behind her.
There was no sign of her tormentor.
Scrambling quickly to her feet, she rushed past a few truckers looking at her in surprise, shoved open the door to the building, and stumbled in.
A bored-looking girl, with her hair heavily gelled and pulled back into a very tight ponytail, looked up from where she was reading a tabloid behind the counter. There were a few truckers prowling the aisles, looking for snacks and other supplies. Through an arched doorway in the wall, Amaliya could see into the restaurant. Business seemed to be better on that side.
“Showers are over there,” the girl said in a bored voice, and popped her bubblegum. She pointed across the heavily-stocked aisles to a large sign that read Restrooms and Showers.
Startled, Amaliya said, “Thanks,” and headed down an aisle, feeling embarrassed of her appearance. Inside the truck stop, it felt so normal and mundane. The ominous presence she had felt earlier was gone. She felt safe among the mortals.
Eh,
she thought.
I'm among mortals. Gawd, that's lame.