Part One

Bradley was shaking with anger, or maybe it was simply despair, or resignation – she wasn't sure anymore, and all the feelings seemed to bleed into each other. Why wouldn't Norman come with her? Why was he so obsessed with staying around his mom?

She kicked some rocks and started down the road; the car hadn't even made it through the woods, but had stalled hard. She'd abandoned it in favor of hitchhiking. It might be creepy, and it wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't sure she really cared much anymore. Her stomach felt empty, and her heart did too. Part of her just wanted to fade away into the woodwork, to give up. Yet there was another part of her that just wouldn't let her. That part wanted to smack herself across the face and tell her to get it together already.

She just needed somebody to drive by, and then she could figure the rest of this out when the time came, no problem.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before a large brown and beige van, maybe an RV (Bradley couldn't keep the difference straight other than that one was on Breaking Bad and one wasn't) pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down and a man stuck his head out.

"Where you headed?"

"Out of town," she replied, "Anywhere you can take me, really."

"How old are you?"

Bradley shrugged.

"Eighteen. Why?"

The man sighed and seemed to turn the idea over in his head.

"All right," he said eventually, popping the other door open. "Get in."

She ran around to the other side and climbed up into the passenger's seat. Now, she was able to see the man properly. He had sandy-brown hair and blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you."

"You haven't met me yet," Bradley replied. "Who are you anyway?"

The man turned the key in his van and started down the road, and Bradley felt a glimmer of fear. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea. Maybe this guy was a serial killer or something, and maybe this was going to turn into some sort of slasher movie kind of deal.

"Name's Caleb," the man replied, "And you?"

Bradley hesitated. She was close enough to home that it was possible that he knew of, or knew someone who knew of, Bradley Martin. Then again, maybe not.

"Winnie," she replied quickly, using her middle name as a quick cover.

"Like 'the Pooh'?" Caleb inquired, and Bradley glared at him.

"Never was funny, never will be funny. But Winifred's not really a whole lot better, so… Winnie it is. Whatever. Where are you headed, anyway?"

"Out of the country."

Bradley blinked at him.

"Like, Canada?" she asked.

"More like Mexico."

"That'll take a long time."

"Were you trying to get somewhere quickly?"

Bradley shrugged.

"No. No I'm not. I'll go anywhere."

Caleb started up the car, but regarded her suspiciously at the same time.

"Are you sure you're eighteen? I don't want trouble with the law right now."

Bradley laughed bitterly.

"Yeah. I promise. Eighteen. Old enough to know better. I'm not some runaway." Well, she was. That much was true. Hell if she was going to admit it, especially not to this guy who seemed to have a host of his own secrets and flaws. She was probably riding in this car with some kind of serial killer, and she wasn't that surprised to discover that it didn't bother her.

Whatever was going to happen would happen. She was done fighting it. Norman had been her last hurrah, and it had failed. Now, she didn't know what she was, or how she was supposed to define herself.

Caleb began to drive down the road, giving her cautious glances from time to time as if he was as wary of her as she was of him. That made her feel a little bit bad, but it also felt a little good. Rather than the girl who had been getting crapped on by life this past year, she felt dangerous. She remembered watching an episode of America's Most Wanted where evil women were getting picked up as hitchhikers and then murdering dudes just for the hell of it. She thought of herself in that role for a moment. If she could be like that, then she wouldn't have to be afraid of anyone.

But how many people even went on crime sprees alone? Bonnie needed Clyde, and Juliette Lewis had needed some other dude.

She let out a slow sigh and looked over at Caleb.

"You wanna go on a crime spree?"

He looked at her and laughed.

"Kid, you look like you're barely out of high school. You're asking me to go on a crime spree? With you? I'm old enough to be your dad. Hell, my son's probably older than you."

"You have a son?" Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't seem like the type of man to have a family. He had that lonely drifter sense about him. Finding out that he had a kid did make the guy seem slightly less like a serial killer, though.

"Yeah. He's twenty-two. He's a good kid. Dylan's his name."

Bradley looked at him and blinked, wondering. The man had picked her up right in White Pine Bay, hadn't he? And the resemblance was uncanny. Not to mention that the world seemed to be getting smaller every day.

"Dylan Massett?" she asked. "The new kid? I mean, new-ish, I guess. He's been there a couple years by now. So not that new. But Dylan's your son?"

"Yeah," Caleb said simply.

"I can see it. You guys totally look alike." She blinked at him, realizing she probably shouldn't be letting him know that she knew Dylan. That was shooting holes in the whole "being dead" deal.

She let her hands linger over the dashboard. She was less nervous now.

"So what do you do… Caleb? What's your deal, anyway?"

"Nothing you should be involved with."

She tilted her head to the side.

"Tell me your secrets. I can help. Let's do this."