by Rachel Cade
Every so often, she tested her cell phone signal, and each time it failed, she had to restrain herself from chucking it into the woods.
Ciara kept along the path, constantly glancing around. She tried to tell herself that she was alone, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was being watched, that behind one of the hundreds of trees around her, someone was lurking. The further she got from her useless BMW and deeper into unfamiliar territory, the more panicked she became.
No one even knew where she was if something were to happen.
The only weapon she had was a small year-old can of mace her mom gave her.
Did it even work?
She guessed her keys could gouge an eye if needed. She held them tightly, not allowing them to make any noise as her throbbing soles pressed her along the road at a snail’s pace.
The one function her phone still served was to tell proper time. It had now been over an hour since she’d become completely and utterly lost in the Maryland backwoods thanks to hastily given - and written - directions.
Several times she’d wiped tears from her eyes, and she’d taken off her shoes during breaks. Then she almost wanted to resume crying when she put them back on to continue. But a painful foot was better than a bloody one.
By the time she saw the outline of a building as she came to a curve in the road, she thought it was a mirage. She had to blink twice before believing it.
The building could be abandoned, then she’d be right back at square one. And if it was occupied, that didn’t necessarily mean they’d have good intentions.
Ciara swallowed between her quickening breaths, scanning the building as she got closer.
Should she call out for help?
A part of her denounced the idea as her fingers tightened on her keys, which had transformed into mini blades that forked through her knuckles.
The grass beneath her feet smothered the sounds of her steps as she rounded the building.
Trying to assess whether anyone was there, she couldn’t help but think fate must have been laughing at her while she complained about her life.
Compare that to being out in fucking backwoods, where announcing herself could get her shot and not announcing herself could get her shot.
Now in front of the dilapidated brick building, she realized it was a garage. The two large doors were pulled open, the sun’s place in the sky setting the room inside in shadow. But the tail end of a rusty sky blue pick-up truck stuck out.
Ciara stopped in her tracks, adrenaline pumping hope and trepidation simultaneously through her veins.
“He - hello?” Her voice came out a croaked whisper. She cleared her throat before repeating herself, eyeing her surroundings warily.
Several minutes passed and there was no response. She sighed hard, wiping her sweat stained brow with a damp hand. No one was here. She was going to have to go back to her car.
But she had to at least see if there was something here that could help her. With hesitance, she moved closer to the garage.
The smooth surface of the cement floor felt odd after hours of trekking across dirt and rolling pebbles.
It was probably pointless, but she moved her hand along the wall, hoping for a working light switch. Her foot hit something, followed by a loud noise of metal crashing against the floor.
Her heart followed suit. She reached for her chest to catch her breath. Shortly after there was another noise behind her, a loud boom she knew she hadn’t caused. Nothing registered in her brain as her heeled feet scrambled for the exit.
Had she heard mumbling?
Once she was a safe distance away from the building, she turned around.
A shadow lifted from the darkness of the garage, and as it came closer to the light, Ciara was tempted to run for dear life back down the road.
Swallowing, she instinctively prepared to ditch the shoes if she had to.
“What the hell?” the man grumbled like he was waking up. Ciara had no idea what she was expecting, probably anything but the huge man that emerged. He must have been a foot taller than her. He was shielding his eyes from the sun, but she knew he was watching her.
“H - hi.” Ciara clenched the keys in her hand, staring across at the man covered from head to toe in dirt and oil.
He lowered his hand from his eyes and stared at her; a very unwelcoming scowl marred his lips.
The stranger offered no greeting in return.
Had he been sleeping in the garage?
Ciara unclenched her jaw. “I’m… really sorry to bother you.” As she spoke, her eyes traveled down the length of his torso, past the grimy t-shirt and jeans to see he was holding a large wrench in his hand.
“My -” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat before trying again. “My car broke down.” She halted herself from saying anything more.
The wrench never strayed too far from her line of vision, even as he scratched his face with his forearm. The action caused the sun to catch his cropped dirty blond hair.
The arched soles of her shoes sent a spiking pain up her legs, causing her to wince and shift her stance. “Would I be able to use your phone to call for a tow?”
“Where’s your car?” It wasn’t a polite request as he finally looked up. The gravelly pitch of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Ciara swallowed, “Way - way down the road.” She lifted a weary arm to point in the direction she came.
He glanced in that way and silently scoffed. She didn’t want to do anything to raise his annoyance.
“I just need to call someone to tow it,” she stated.
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”
His movement suggested he was in no hurry, turning his back on her to toss the wrench in the trunk.
She released a pent-up breath.
“I don’t have a phone.”
She blinked, needing a moment to register his words. “I’m sorry - what?”
“I said I don’t have a phone.” His tone wasn’t any nicer.
Ciara licked dry lips, which to her dismay, had captured dirt particles and Lord knew what else from her romp with nature. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. For a moment, she prayed he was joking, but if so, he had one hell of a poker face.
She glanced beyond him, and hope heightened her voice. “Well could you give me a lift to the nearest town? I can pay you for your trouble.”
The man dug into his front pocket, with Ciara eyeing his every move, and pulled out a stick of gum. He popped it into his mouth and chewed several times.
She glanced down at her clothes, then reached up to wipe sweat from her brow and smooth her hair. Did she not look like a desperate mess? What was this guy’s problem?
“No car, either,” he answered flatly.
Ciara blatantly eyed the pickup before pointing at it. “What’s that?”
The stranger side-eyed the vehicle. “That is antique that ain’t run in twenty years.”
She picked up on the heavy Southern drawl in his voice. He squinted at her as they stayed a distance apart, lazily chewing his gum. Whether the car did or didn’t run, would he have offered any help?
Ciara got the sinking feeling that not only was she lost, but she might now be in the company of a useless, racist redneck.
Chapter Two:
Still Broke
Ciara wanted to scream so bad she had to swallow more than once to keep it down. The sun was steadily shifting across the sky and, according to the expensive clock that was her cell phone, she only had about an hour before it would set.
The man appeared tired of looking at her, his glance shifting around as his booted feet scuffed against the dirt patch he stood on. He pulled a worn red baseball cap out of his back pocket and sat it on his head adjusting the brim.
Ciara sighed. Despite her body’s screaming protest, she moved toward her previous trail, knowing it would be impossible to make it back to her car before nightfall.
“You leavin’?” he asked, surprising her.
&nb
sp; She folded her arms, hating the damp slickness on her skin and the way her clothes stuck to it. But at that point she was completely defeated, and her voice reflected it, “I am. You don’t have a phone or a car, so you can’t help me.”
Risking a glance at him, she saw that he’d moved to sit on the bumper of the pickup. Her eyes widened slightly when she realized he was holding a bottled water in his hands. He unscrewed the cap and took a hefty sip, the plastic crinkling loudly in his grip.
Before he pulled the bottle from his mouth, she was stalking away. Well, she attempted to, but her feet wouldn’t allow her to punish them that way. Wincing at the discomfort, she slowed her pace.
“I got an extra.”
Ciara stopped again. She was nearing the side of the garage and he was almost out of her line of vision.
“Water,” he continued, holding a second bottle in his hand. “You want it?”
What she wanted was a way out of this damn mess she’d gotten herself into. It was on her tongue to say it. But the heat and fatigue had done a number on her. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a drink that day.
“Yes,” she answered quietly.
The brim of his hat and shadow of the garage wouldn’t let her see his expression, and she was thankful.
“Catch.”
The bottle came air sailing in her direction. It wasn’t a hard throw, but she hadn’t been expecting it, and her reflexes only allowed her fingertips to skim the bottle before it hit the ground with a thud. She cursed out loud before bending over to retrieve it. Fortunately, it had fallen in the grass.
The plastic hadn’t cracked, so she quickly drained the bottle of its contents, as she heard a vague apology come from him.
She stood there for a moment when she was finished, not remembering a time when simple water tasted so damn good, and shook her head, dismissing his apology. “Thank you.”
There was an awkwardness that followed, and she wouldn’t look directly at him, but kept his frame in her peripheral.
“Are there - any houses out here or anything?” She closed her mouth over the other questions she had, not even sure he would answer that one.
His expression was still mostly hidden from her, and she could tell nothing from his body language. “Not really.”
“What’s ‘not really’ mean?” She kept her voice as light as possible.
“You mean a nearby town or a neighbor, right? That’s why I said no.” The stranger’s voice was still gruff. He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his greasy jeans, appearing pretty at home resting against the rusty truck.
Ciara sighed, tilting her head. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was in line with the rest of the day.
With the empty bottle in her hand, she left his company wordlessly; their meeting seemed too unconventional for a goodbye.
“Hey, high heels?”
She stopped yet again on the path, annoyed, yet curious, “Yes?”
They were both out of each other’s line of vision.
When he didn’t answer, she moved back around to the front of the garage. He emerged at the door, holding a white plastic chair that was about as dingy as he was.
He placed the chair in the grass in front of the garage, a bit of a distance away from the truck, before going back to sit on the bumper.
Ciara glanced back at the trail again. She squinted at the sunlight burning across the sky over her head. Before she could weigh the consequences, her body made the choice for her, sitting in the chair with a soft thud. The pressure taken off her legs and feet forced an exhale.
She checked her phone to see if she could get a signal to call or text, but there was nothing.
The landscape was a bit different here: the trees were sparse, and tall grass was speckled with high, unkept hedges.
“Ciara... My name’s Ciara.”
He nodded twice and said nothing, making her feel silly for the introduction. Maybe he just wanted her to sit there and shut up.
The plastic chair offered some comfort, but her predicament was still the same and it weighed on her, the tension tightening her shoulders and neck.
“So you don’t like being called ‘high heels’ then?”
Her brow furrowed. His tone wouldn’t betray whether he was joking or not.
“Ciara’s a little better.” She rested her back more in the chair. “Unless I can call you 'jeans’ or ‘cap?’”
He rubbed his nose, but the line of his mouth didn’t change. She guessed he hadn’t been joking.
“Ugh.” She glanced down at her shoes. “I don’t think after today I’ll wear another pair of these again.”
“Do you mind if I ask how the hell you got down here?”
Ciara twisted in the chair to face him. Accusation tinged his voice, as if she’d purposefully done this.
“I took the wrong exit. When I tried to turn around, my car stopped on the road. I got out and started walking. You’re the first person I’ve seen all afternoon.”
Waiting for a reaction from him, she clenched her teeth. If Phillip never called, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Could you walk back with me and just look at it?” she blurted.
The brim of his hat shifted. “How long did it take you to get here from your car?”
She shook her head. “Around two hours.”
“Not enough daylight left.”
Her fingers flexed into fists. Desperation gnawed at her, provoking anxiety. “You have to have a flashlight or lantern or something around!”
The stranger’s gum-chewing slowed. Only the brim of his hat indicated he was staring right at her.
“I have cash on me. I can pay you whatever you want.”
“Look,” he stated, “pokin’ around in the dark to check out a car I probably can’t fix ain’t on my agenda tonight.”
A torturous warm breeze blew hair into her face. She swatted wildly at it before speaking. “As soon as I get to town I can get you more money!”
He didn’t budge. “It’s not about money. I just don’t wanna do it.”
Heat singed her eyes and she turned away from him. “Please.” Her feet ached, her back was killing her, and she barely recognized her own voice. “I don’t know what else to do.”
The last thing she wanted was to cry. She turned her head away to hide the salty tears that trailed down her cheeks. Ciara fought with herself to try to gain some composure, but it wasn’t forthcoming.
“Here, it’s my-” The male voice was too close.
Gasping, she lurched from her seat to put distance between them, the chair tipping over from her frantic movement.
He raised both hands. Surprise slackened his jaw before his mouth returned to a flat line. “I was just offering you my last water.” He gripped it in his left hand and, cautiously, he reached forward and picked up the chair. “I’m just gonna set it here,” he explained before placing the bottle in the seat.
Ciara wiped her eyes quickly as he moved to put more distance between them, but stayed out of the garage. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Swallowing slowly, she tried to regain control of her heartbeat as she grabbed the water with a “Thank you,” and promptly started on the trail a third time.
“Wait a second. You’re not seriously going back to your car now?” He pulled his cap off and shoved it back into his pocket.
“Yes!” she breathed as her eyes widened. “What else is there for me to do?”
He pursed his mouth. “After nightfall, you won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face. And add to that it’s gonna to rain soon.”
She made a face. “Rain? What are you talking about?” The sky over their heads held a smattering of clouds.
“Trust me.”
Ciara gave him a look.
The corner of his mouth down turned for a second. “Well, as much as possible given the situation.”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Right.” She laughed shortly, unscrewing the cap off the
water. “I had a short, frustrated cry, not an - unstable cry.” Then she took a long sip.
Emotional outbursts were not something a Kimball should do no matter the circumstances.
“You done now then?”
She nodded quickly, noting his discomfort before it disappeared behind a stone mask.
Embarrassed by the whole scene, she just wanted to change the subject. “Do you… live out here?”
He peered at her, the grease on his face contrasted heavily with his blond locks.
“I’m intruding,” she quickly answered, trying to cover her own nervousness. She hated the silence between them. It drew her attention to the wilderness that stretched around them. Never in her life had she felt so isolated.
“Sort of.” He wiped sweat from his brow, and for the first time she realized he was sweating pretty heavily, his grimy t shirt sticking to his shoulders. “I mean - I sort of live out here.”
There was something odd about his accent that she hadn’t noticed before. It was Southern, but there was something else to it.
Also, he didn’t seem like much of a talker.
The water hit her stomach and it clenched painfully, a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten since that awful brunch.
She grimaced, before scrambling inside her purse to find the half-eaten Twinkie that she hastily shoved inside earlier.
After two unladylike bites, she glanced up at him. “I’d offer you some, but…it’s half a Twinkie...”
“Oh, I’m alright, thanks.” Ciara couldn’t have heard amusement in his tone as she licked frosting out of the corner of her mouth.
“This just isn’t my day,” she admitted. “Definitely going in the top five.” She stared down at the white filling of the treat when something cold hit her shoulder. Startled, she reached to touch it when another hit the top of her head.
“There it goes,” he mumbled.
But it went unheard by Ciara as a fine mist of rain started to fall from the sky.
“Oh my God!” she squealed.
He was far closer to the garage than she was. Two large steps and he was under shelter. But she wasn’t so lucky; the mist quickly turned into something more serious, easily drenching the loose soil around her, and making the dash to join him far more treacherous. The earth was like quicksand to her pointed heels.