Chapter 1: Remembering Fear

"I will show you fear in a handful of dust." – T.S.Eliot

It was dark when I woke up and it took me a second to remember where I was. Curled up in the passenger seat of a Honda Civic. The engine was off and it was quiet. There was some light, more grey than any real color, coming from the windows and I blinked, looking around. I was in a parking garage it looked like, underground and not very full. A few cars scattered here and there, but most of them crowded against a distant wall. The light was coming from a couple ramps mostly, daylight.

I stretched and tried to straighten my legs, feeling stiff and crampy. I caught sight of the woman, Angela, in the back seat. Sleeping much as I had been. I watched her for a few minutes and her body didn't move, not even her breasts, as if she weren't breathing at all. I thought about touching her, just to see if she was alive. But I didn't. If she was asleep, she probably needed it. If she was dead, it wasn't like I was gonna be able to do anything for her.

My body was sore and I needed to take a piss. I sat up a little straighter, moving my feet so I could put my boots on. I didn't have a clue where we were, and it didn't matter anyway. I moved between the front bumper and the cement wall, painted yellow and dulled lifeless with years of dust and oily grime. The place smelled like a muffler and looked like a tomb, but it was too lifeless for that. I undid my jeans and pulled my panties down, squatting so I could pee between my widespread feet, spreading my labes a bit with my fingers. It was a relief and I wiped my pussy with my fingers and then my palm, drying my hand on the cuff of my pants.

I checked my pockets and found my last cigarette, rumpled and bent, but not bad. I was hungry, but that was all the food I had. I straightened it gently and sat down on the hood of the car, lighting it with my Zippo. It was good, harsh and stale and deep in my lungs. I just smoked and stared at the dark pool of urine trying to spoil the floor of that garage. Somewhere above us tires squealed, but that was the only sound I heard and it was lonely. It was cold down there, and a little damp, and my cigarette burned down all too quick.

I looked through the car quietly, just in case the woman woke up. The only thing in the glove compartment was some papers, registration and insurance, crap like that. Nancy Parker was the name on everything, the address someplace in Utah, Salt Lake City. The car had Utah plates too. I hadn't noticed before, but I got out to look cause I was curious. A map of Washington state, with maps of Seattle and Spokane and a couple other places on the back. There wasn't any writing or anything on it. I wondered if she was a Mormon or something, they were weird.

I found the woman's purse, Nancy, or Angela, whoever she was. She looked dead in the back seat and I finally did touch her. She was cool, but not cold. Not breathing either. She had a Utah driver's license, Angela Stokes, and it was just a couple months since she got it. It said she was 29 years old and not much else. The woman's hair was loose in the picture, falling straight around her face. She had some money in a wallet, about eighty dollars and I took that, no credit cards though. Some makeup, some Wrigley's gum, the yellow stuff that's too sweet, but I ate it anyway. Whoever this chick was, she was pretty boring, I thought.

I didn't know what killed her, but part of me thought maybe it might be catching, so I didn't stay long. She wasn't the first dead person I'd seen, or even the second, that had been my parents, although I hadn't known it at the time. I'd just thought they were sleeping. Like I'd thought maybe Angela was sleeping at first. In between them and her I'd seen a bum once, a homeless guy frozen to death. God had been in him too, maybe, and I wondered at what point did God bail? Maybe He was in it for the whole fucking ride. I hoped so. I hope a little bit of Him died too, just so He'd know what it was like.

I locked Angela in the car where she lay, leaving her watch and jewelry, and the keys in the ignition. I went towards the light, towards wherever that was, and I didn't look back.

Three days and I'd made good time. It was hot too, moving south in the Nevada desert, the wind falling out of the mountains wasn't much help. I didn't know what I was doing, or where I was going, but I'd had to pick a direction from Spokane and I'd picked east for awhile, and then south.

"Water." I licked my lips. "I need some water."

"Hey." Ronny was driving. Ronny with a 'y'. "You been asleep about a zillion miles."

I looked around and it was dark, the sun had gone down. Not quite all the way, there was some red and yellow in the air, but it was grey mostly. I took the water bottle he gave me, the one he kept wedged between his seat and the car door. It was warm and flat tasting, but I didn't care. I poured some in my hand and wet my face. I felt dried up and brittle.

"Gas station coming," Ronny was saying. "You wanna stop or something?"

"Just let me out here." I had a couple smokes left in my jacket pocket and I pulled one out, careful of my wet fingers and put it between my lips, pushing the little round lighter into the dash until it clicked.

"Here?" The guy was looking at me and he'd been doing a lot of that, I was sure.

"Wherever, yeah," I shrugged, clicking my fingers, waiting for the lighter to pop back out.

"I figured you were goin all the way..." he sounded kinda surprised.

"With you?" I giggled, trying to sound cruel just so he'd get pissed and stop the fuckin' car. The lighter popped and I held it to my cigarette, sucking and then blowing out the words, "Uh-uh, not with you."

We could see the lights ahead. They put those gas station signs like two hundred feet high or something and the next one was a Texaco. He pulled over anyway, not saying much, just looking at me and when I got out he pulled away hard, like he was spitting dirt at me.

I coulda stayed with him, but it woulda been bad. I didn't like hurting people that were nice to me and he hadn't been anything but okay. Picking me up around three that day and letting me sleep until after seven at night. He was one of those guys who would ask, he'd watch me all the while, wanting and wishing, but always asking and then I'd have to tell him no. It was better just to piss him off. It wasn't my fault honesty hurts.

I walked along the shoulder towards the gas station in the distance, not looking for anything, but a car stopped anyway. It was big old Cadillac and it rumbled as I walked up to it, with the passenger door pushed open as I got close.

"Hop in, Missy." The guy was big like Texas, all sprawled out and smiling cause he knew a free chicken dinner when he saw one.

"Thanks," I smiled, pulling my purse off my shoulder and sliding in, pulling the heavy door closed behind me. The guy locked it automatically. "Cold in here." I rubbed myself through my jacket, that same old denim thing with all the flair.

"I got the 'ditioner on." The man reached for the dash, pushing a button. "Where ya headed?"

"That gas station," I pointed.

He chuckled at that. "Okay, then what? You got family round here?"

"Nope," I shrugged. "I don't. You got any water?"

"Eh? Water, no. I got some brandy. Want some of that?"

"No," I shook my head.

"I keep it for snake bite and such." He shrugged a little and looked me over in the dim light. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." I leaned back, kicking off my boots and scooting my butt down a little. I put my feet on the dash, my little toes wriggling in my white socks against the cold windshield glass.

"Say what?" the guy blinked and I just smiled, feeling my knife in my pocket.

"You ain't stoppin' at the gas station, are you, mister?" I turned my head, watching the exit go by.

"There's another one up the road a piece. Exxon. I got a credit card for them." He was sweating already, sitting in that car with the windows up, driving through the hot Nevada sunset with no AC now. Staring at a girl who was probably on a milk carton someplace. Yeah, he wasn't stopping 'til we got to hell.

This guy wasn't a Ronny and that was okay. I knew what he was. He thought he knew me too, but he didn't. It was going to hurt, probably, but that happens sometimes. It was the price of being me and I couldn't do anything about it. If the man was smart he'd just let me out now, because we both knew there wasn't any Exxon coming. Just a turn off maybe, a dirt road into the night. Some old wooden shack, or a trailer maybe where he could do whatever he wanted, so long as he needed to.