Part 3: Don't Hitchhike
Jess had been walking for just over an hour. According to her phone, she'd gone about two and a half miles. It was harder than she thought—the road was too narrow to walk on, so she'd been making her way along the grass and wildflowers that separated the road from the woods. The towering pine trees offered no shade against the sun, which seemed to squat directly over her, unmoving. She regretted wearing a tank top; she would be sunburnt before she reached the cabin. They'd planned an easy walk in the woods later today, so Jess was grateful she'd chosen to wear her sneakers and yoga pants during the ride up. The shoes were a particular blessing, even though her feet were already hot inside them. Jess usually wore sandals or flip-flops. She shuddered to think what a ten mile walk on uneven terrain in flip-flops would do to her feet.
She glanced at her phone again, checked to make sure the sun still hadn't moved, looked around at the endless field and forest around her. She'd already called her dad and Nicole. Dad had offered to come get them all. Nicole had promised to start walking toward her. She thought that's what Nicole had said. Service sucked that deep into the woods.
Jess had refused both offers. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, she thought. Empty hours, empty space, a perfect opportunity to consider just what the hell she'd been thinking when she'd married Paul. Who got married at nineteen nowadays?
Nicole. And that marriage had also ended—in less than a year.
Jess kicked a rock into the road, loosened and redid her ponytail, pulled it through the back of her ball cap. She thought she'd known how bad Paul was—that he lied, and was petty, and chauvinistic. That he'd cheated on her and would again. That he could rage like a Florida thunderstorm, sudden and violent, over something as small as losing a game of Scrabble.
She was wrong. Jess hadn't known the real Paul until they were married. Not until the door to their apartment was shut and locked did she discover the truth. Paul wasn't just an asshole; he was a monster.
He said it was a game. Tied to the bed. Gagged, blindfolded. She couldn't see, but she could feel the things he did—
Jess shivered, her sweat suddenly cold against her skin. She slowed her pace to let her twisting stomach unknot. A mockingbird swooped out of the canopy and sang a trilling tune. Jess smiled, mockingbirds were always stealing the songs of other birds, or even music they heard. Pretending to be something they weren't.
After the bird's song, Jess noticed that the silence was actually a symphony of insect noises. Buzzing bees and dragonflies, whispering butterflies, and the low drone of cicadas.
The drone got louder. Jess turned and saw a white pickup truck appear on the horizon. She moved closer to the treeline, a wide berth between the speeding vehicle and her fragile body. But then, the truck slowed, pulled into the grass. It had a trailer attached, and a tarp was tied down to cover a small mound of black inner tubes. When the window descended, Jess recognized the driver.
Nathan grinned. "Little hot for a walk," he called.
Jess gave him her polite, please-don't-engage-me smile. "It's just a few miles to our cabin. I'll be fine."
Nathan looked down the road. He scratched his beard, looked back at Jess, then back at the road. "You staying at one of the Hutchinson rentals?" She didn't answer him, but he nodded anyway. "Only places out this way." He scanned the road, the endless green strip of grass, the darker wall of forest. "That's quite a walk. In the sun." She looked up at him, and his gaze held hers. "With no water."
He was right. She'd drunk the last of her water on the way into town. She had nothing to drink until she got to the cabin. Her throat already felt raw and hot. Everything felt hot. Jess took a step—not toward the truck, exactly, but not away from it. Nathan watched her. He seemed to consider her for a moment, then he leaned into the passenger side space, opened something Jess couldn't see, and held up a Capri Sun. Chips of ice clung to the juice pouch, glistening in the sun.
Nathan smiled again. "I sell 'em to the college kids after they spend all day tubing." He laughed, but it was a good-natured laugh. He had a pleasant, nondescript face. His eyes looked hazel blue, and surrounded by a burst of wrinkles on either side. His beard was short and clean. He looked like someone her dad would know.
Jess's eyes flicked between the endless blacktop shimmering with heat, the impenetrable green of the woods around her, the white truck, the container of juice in Nathan's hand, the ice water dripping.
"Let me . . . let me call my dad," she said.
Nathan's smile never faltered as he nodded. "That's just what I'd want my little girl to do in a situation like this." He reached over and opened the passenger door for her, still smiling. "Good choice."
😰😰😰 what's going to happen??