ACT I
SCENE III
Rachel had nowhere else to stash the car. She knew that they'd be looking for her. She couldn't let them find her. She knew that they'd have questions.
Better to be missing and assumed kidnapped or dead then stuck in a room hoping they'll find the mysterious, supernatural monster. Only she could do that. Although she never saw the thing, she could find it. And kill it. Make it suffer.
But her mum didn't want her to. The piece of paper that her mum gave to her had a name and a number messily scrawled on it, it stared at her, daring her to call this so-called 'Dean.' Why is he important? Why would he look after her? Who was this Dean?
She trusted her mother, she always had. One way or another, her mum was always right. Always okay. She was smart, observant, strong and a great leader, a great hunter.
So, how did this monster get the jump on her?
Rachel can deal with that later. Right now she needs to figure out who this is. Why did Mum have his number? Who is he?
But to do research about how many Deans are in the world and how many are hunters and how many of those hunters called Dean are in America. Or Australia. Or pretty much anywhere in the world. She needed a place to crash. She needed a car.
After walking about ten or so blocks, finding anything that resembles a place to park your car all day far enough from the alley she left her mum's car. They won't look far from that point for her and reports of stolen cars and whatnot.
Logic thinking is, choose a car that somebody won't be missing for a couple more hours, give her a good head start.
She came across a small parking lot, with about a dozen cars. It only had the one entry, with a boom gate. Hopefully someone likes leaving their ticket in the car. If not, this will not end well. Tall brick building surround it and the glow of the afternoon sun cast long shadows around her.
She stalked purposefully across the car park, shoving her hands in her pockets and thumbling for her lock pick, having already chosen the berlin blue Nissan Micra to high jack as her inconspicuous get-a-way car.
Rachel put the simple device in the lock on the driver's door, smoothly managing to glide the steel clasps to unlock. She hopped inside and was immediately taken aback by its clean state. She wasn't used to stealing cars that were so clean. But now, before going through the painstaking hotwiring process, she searched for the boom gate ticket.
Bingo. In the door. How original. This chick mustn't be used to people stealing her car in the middle of the afternoon.
Reaching below the steering wheel, trying to find the delicate wires, she snapped them with her pocket knife and sparked the frayed wires together. It took a couple more minutes to get the car started, but she was away.
The perks of driving an inconspicuous car, is that nobody is really looking at you, so no one could tell she was either declared missing or a suspect to her own mother's murder.
"Alrighty then," she muttered to herself as she waited for the boom gate to open.
Rachel headed south, where most of the abandoned places are in her town. She shuttered at that thought of squatting in her home city, but if she even tried to book a motel room, someone would recognise her, someone would look there. It was too dangerous, too vulnerable, too open.
She had to get the hell out of dodge.