Daryl hit the hazard lights on the old truck and got out, sighing as he slammed the door behind him. It wasn't any use to raise the hood and look for the problem there; he knew when it had lurched and stalled that once again, his brother had run out all the gas and left him to deal with the consequences. He cursed himself, and Merle, for not getting that broken gauge fixed. Maybe this time he'd learn to take care of things himself instead of trusting his brother's promises to deal with them.
After a few minutes spent considering his options, the sound of an approaching car cut through his thoughts, and he stuck out his thumb, not really expecting anyone to pull over for him. He'd already resigned himself to hoofing it to the nearest phone to call for roadside assistance. And, while he was at it, his boss, to explain that he'd be late. That was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to.
A low-slung convertible, powder blue with a white ragtop, came out of the morning mist, flying past him, then braked abruptly and reversed, pulling back to where he stood. The passenger door popped open, and the driver gunned the engine for a second, like if he hesitated he was going to be left in the dust.
Daryl stooped to look inside, and a woman's voice said, "Where you headed?" He paused, looking back at the truck, and said, "Was goin' to work, up the power plant, east of Newnan."
"Get in."
"Hang on a sec," he said quickly, and stepped back to the truck to grab his jacket and turn off the hazards. It was far enough off the road that he wasn't too worried about it getting clipped, and there was no sense in running down the battery.
He slipped into the passenger seat of the convertible as the woman again revved the engine, saying only, "Buckle up" before she peeled out, throwing him back against the seat.
Daryl hastily grabbed the belt and secured it, wondering for a moment if he'd made the right decision to accept the ride. "If you could drop me someplace where I can make a call from, I'd appreciate it."
The driver looked over at him, seemingly amused, and asked, "No cell phone?"
He shrugged and said, "Don't really believe in 'em. I figure anyone who needs me knows where to find me, and other than that, I'd just as soon they not."
"That's a refreshingly different viewpoint. Well, as far as somewhere to make a call, there's really nothing much between here and there, and just offhand I can't think of anyplace where there's a pay phone. What time are you supposed to be at work?"
Daryl checked his watch and said, "About fifteen minutes from now is when I said I'd be there, but it won't be a big deal if I'm late. I'm comin' in off-shift to fix somethin' they broke."
She shot a look at the dashboard clock, made a tsking sound, and said, "Yeah, that's probably doable."
He looked at her in surprise, saying, "But that's gotta be - what, seventeen miles or more?"
"Mm-hmm, it is. Now hush, and let me focus."
The woman drove fast, with a silent intensity that practically vibrated, and Daryl again questioned his choice to get in the car with her. He turned his body a little so he could watch her as she navigated the country road, downshifting smoothly and accelerating out of turns like a Grand Prix driver.
She was lean and pale, probably close to 5'5' or 5'6", with a short crop of gray-brown hair that curled just a bit over her collar. Her long, slender fingers held the wheel lightly, like she was guiding a dressage horse around the curves rather than the vintage Karmann Ghia. She was dressed all in black, from her skinny jeans to her scoop-neck tank to the thin cardigan she wore over top, which only accentuated the creamy skin of her neck and delicate collarbone. Damn, he thought, that's a fine-looking woman.
After a few minutes she seemed to relax some, and glanced over at him, a wry smile twisting her lips. "Trying to figure me out?" Her blue eyes locked on his for just a second before returning to the road, and Daryl felt a bolt of electricity hit him with her gaze.
"Well, yeah. Not many women alone would stop to pick up a strange man."
"So you're saying you're strange?" Her tone was teasing, and Daryl felt a little flustered.
"No, I meant…"
"I know what you meant."
They were starting to come into a more developed area, and that momentary connection evaporated as she disappeared back inside herself, concentrating on the road ahead. She drove like the car was an extension of her body, and as they encountered other vehicles she seemed to anticipate what the other drivers would do, passing them without apparent thought, slipping through what appeared to be impossibly narrow gaps, weaving between the cars with no hesitation or loss of speed, like she was acting out some kind of chase scene from a spy movie. Daryl felt his heart leap up into his throat, his pulse hammering in his head. She really was beginning to freak him out.
As they stopped for a traffic light, he stammered out, "Look, I… I don't really have to be there in this big a hurry."
She looked over at him, that glint of amusement in her eyes again, and said, "Maybe you don't, but I do." The light changed, and she floored it again, zipping past the vehicles in the adjacent lane and cutting over as soon as she was clear.
Trying to make conversation so he didn't have to think about the likelihood of dying, Daryl asked, "So why did you pick me up, anyway? Seein' as how you couldn't know whether I was strange or not?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said, her voice sounding perturbed. "Death wish, maybe?"
Daryl shook his head. "You'll forgive me if that don't make me feel too comfortable. I mean, I am pretty much at your mercy, here."
She chuckled, and then gave a big snort of laughter. "My mercy. My mercy. Hah! You know, I kind of like the sound of that. Someone being at my mercy."
He couldn't for the life of him think of what to say to that, and he settled back into the seat, his fingers involuntarily clutching at the armrest as she whipped past a semi that had stopped in the roadway to turn into a business. They drove on for several more minutes in silence before she said, "You're quiet. I almost forgot a couple of times that you were even there." She looked sidelong for his reaction. "That's a compliment, by the way. It's rare that I… let myself relax that much around another person."
By now they were approaching the entrance to the plant, and he checked his watch. Fourteen minutes. It made his stomach clench a little. He pointed out the employee door, and she slowed to a stop in front of it.
"Beat my own record," she said, not seeming to take much pleasure in it. Daryl automatically thanked her for the ride and started to get out, but stopped himself, taking a deep breath.
"What are you runnin' from?" he asked, knowing he had no right.
She smiled bitterly, and said, "You are way too sharp for me, Mister Hitchhiker. How about if you let me hang on to some secrets, at least until the next time?"
He had to struggle to keep from gaping at her. "There's a next time?"
"Yeah," she said, tilting her head to look at him. "I think so. You're... restful to be around, somehow. I thought maybe, if you weren't going to be too long, I'd pick you up when you're done here and we could go have a cup of coffee."
"Jesus," he said, "Between the extra caffeine and your drivin', I'm not sure I'd live through it."
She grinned at him and said, "I promise, I'll take it down a notch or two. Wouldn't want you dying on my nice white upholstery."
Daryl considered her impish smile, and those impossibly blue eyes, and thought about how, no matter which way he went on this, he'd probably be making a huge mistake, but he asked, "So - what's your name, Secret Agent?"
She put out her hand, "I'm Carol."
He took it, and felt that jolt again as he did. "And I'm Daryl."
She smiled, and said, "Of course you are."
He looked at his watch and said, "Pick me up here in three hours, Agent Carol?" And he went inside, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck, and decided he kind of liked the feeling.