Disclaimer: Big thanks to Kripke for sharing his world with us.

Chapter 4

They had been on foot the last two days. They hadn't spoken about Connor or their families again, but there was an easier and more casual intimacy between them now that she had thought was lost. They just had to break the seal apparently.

They hadn't been able to get any other lifts north in the transfer trucks, and hitching wasn't getting them very far. They were a little less concerned about being spotted as Marcus's full facial scruff made him look quite different from the photo released of him, and she looked really different too with her short dyed hair. Besides, they hadn't seen any other clips about the cops putting out APB's on them and they were a lot further north so it likely wouldn't be as big news up here as it was back in Texas and Louisiana. Also, there had been a tornado just west of where they were so there was crazy media attention on that. Anything to divert attention from them didn't bother her a bit. She just hoped no one got hurt in that tornado – they were scary things to go through.

They were in St. Joseph, Missouri, fifty miles north of Kansas City when they hit a lucky break. They had been hitching on Route twenty-nine and it had been getting dark when a rundown truck pulled over on the side of the road just ahead of them. They ran to catch up. Marcus had a hand near the hidden knife handle in his pocket in case the guy was shady.

There was a mud splattered 'Jesus is my co-pilot' bumper sticker splayed across the back of the old brown and white Dodge Ram. The window rolled down and a graying head popped out the window. "Where you kids headed?" the voice of the man called out.

"North," Marcus answered as they pulled up even with the cab. The guy looked a little like a crazy looking Nick Nolte with his longish hair disheveled. There was a crucifix dangling from the rear view mirror and a Gideon's bible wedged between the dash and windshield.

The guy glanced from Marcus to her, standing behind the tall black man. "Where north, in particular?"

"Just north."

The guy shrugged. "Well I'm going to Fargo, is that north enough for ya?"

Jenna could hardly contain her excitement. This guy was going straight through South Dakota. So long as he wasn't a quack, they would be able to drive most of the rest of the way. Her feet and shoulders were killing her, and the thought of sitting down sounded wonderful.

"That would be great, thanks." They ran behind the truck to get in on the passenger side. She could tell that Marcus didn't like her sitting next to the stranger, but there were three seats on the bench-seat, and Marcus wouldn't make it far with his long legs propped up on the hump in the middle. She was too tired to care if the bible thumper was sitting next to her or not. She was so beat, that she would gladly lie down in the bed of the truck and ride back there if she had to.

Marcus laid the guitar case with the rifles in the truck bed and they piled in. The guy made some room on the bench seat by sweeping some papers into the dash and stuffed a jacket between the seat and cab back. She hopped up onto the cracked vinyl seat with Marcus right behind her. It was heaven to sink back and feel the weight leave her aching bones. The cab smelled like old tobacco and dust, but it wasn't in an unpleasant type of way. Most folk wouldn't like the smell of a barn, but that was the smell of home to her. She settled her feet on the hump, keeping her knees out of the way of the gear shift and Marcus slammed the heavy door behind him. The guy put the truck into first and they pulled back onto the blacktop and they were off.

"No place to be, out in the dark and alone on the side of the road. There are some real nuts out there." Marcus didn't seem placated by the statement and shifted in his seat. No doubt he was sliding the knife out of his pocket so he could palm it and use it if he had to.

"Name's Grant," the guy said as he shifted gears. She kept her knees out of the way in case the guy tried to go for an 'accidental graze' but he promptly put his hands back up on the wheel.

"I'm David," Marcus said. "And this is Sarah." Jenna nodded at Grant and gave him a small smile. He didn't seem like a creep, but neither did Ted Bundy to those who knew him.

"Pleasure to meet you both. What are you kids doing out on the road and only heading north?"

"I don't really think…"

Jenna cut him off before he could tell the guy to buzz off and get them kicked out of the truck. Her gut was telling her this guy was okay and Marcus was being paranoid and protective. Normally, that was a good combination, but tonight it was unnecessary.

"We're going north to go stay with my aunt," she lied.

"What's wrong with staying with your parents?"

"They don't like me being with him." She nodded her head towards Marcus and grabbed his hand. "So we left home. My aunt said she'd take us in till we get on our feet." She was amazed how easily the lies formed in her mouth.

"Parents don't like you being with a black man?"

"No they don't." She tried to block out the echoes of her mom screaming at her to run… her garbling last breaths…

"I kinda figured that was the reason. Funny how hung up on that folk can be." Grant shifted into fourth and put his hands back up on the wheel. She wished Marcus would relax – the set of his shoulders would start to intimidate the guy soon.

"I don't understand it either." She dug her short fingernails into her palms to keep herself from bursting into tears.

"As far as I know, Jesus didn't stipulate skin color on the whole, 'God loves you' message."

"If he made us all, why would he care, right?" Hang on Dad… Marcus had pleaded with his father…

"Amen, little sister. Amen."

She kept her fingernails pressed into her palms while she counted to ten and felt like she'd be able to keep it together. She pushed down the black ball of guilt in her gut that kicked her whenever her thoughts drifted to their dead family members. She couldn't let Marcus know – it would make him so angry. But it felt good to know she had read Grant right. The man wasn't a bad sort, just a guy in a rundown truck offering a ride to some kids stranded on the side of the road.

"There's some soda in that cooler at yer feet, David," Grant suggested. "Help yourselves." Marcus reached down to the small, beat up cooler and handed her a cola. It was a little warm, but appreciated all the same.

"Thanks."

"I remember when my daughter was your age," he mused. "She was a good girl. Miss her something fierce."

She paused mid-sip. "I'm sorry. What happened to her?"

"She got in a wreck. Spent four days in a coma before she passed on."

"I'm sorry. That must have been terrible."

"Damn near killed me. That's when I found Jesus. He helped me through it." Grant patted the bible on the dash and put his hands back on the wheel. "Haven't touched a drop since." She didn't know what to say to that so she took another drink of her cola instead. Would God and Jesus help her through the tough times ahead? She didn't think so. If they were up there, they had more pressing matters on their plates than Jenna Marsh. She realized that Grant had continued talking while she tuned him out so she tried to make some sort of noise when it seemed appropriate so he wouldn't know she had no idea what he'd said. It seemed like Grant just needed someone to talk to during the long drive. Probably helped him stay awake so she let him ramble on about being saved, the price of gas and the plight of the American farmer. She didn't add any of her personal experience to that last one and Marcus kept his mouth shut too. Grant seemed nice enough, but the less he knew about the two of them, the better.

After two hours on the road of Grant humming along to the classic country coming out of the old radio, it was nearly ten and Grant pulled over at a gas station to fill up. She and Marcus got out to stretch their legs and keep an eye on the guitar case in the back of the truck. They were both starving, but didn't want to squander the few bucks they had left for overpriced service station fare. Turned out they didn't have to. Grant came out of the building with a paper tray of coffee, and a plastic bag in his hands.

"Here you go, kids. Help yourselves."

"Grant, thank you, that's really nice of you." The small kindnesses he was showing them made her smile genuine instead of forced. Her stomach growled as the smell of the coffee hit her.

He waved a hand at her. "It's nothing. You both look hungry is all." There was a paper baggie of creamers and sugar packets in the fourth hole of the paper coffee tray, and the plastic bag had a bag of pretzels and a couple chocolate bars. A six pack of cola dangled from his other hand. "It's not a well rounded meal, but I think it will tide us over for the night."

The hot coffee went down well. It had been days since they'd had anything hot – just stolen cereal bars mostly and they had eaten the last of those that morning.

She was tired and fell asleep for a time. Marcus stayed awake to speak with Grant and keep him awake, but she woke up when the truck pulled over and Marcus and Grant changed seats. Grant leaned his head against the passenger window and was asleep within five minutes.

"Jenna-girl," he whispered when Grant started snoring. "Change the damn station, will you? I am sick of Hank Snow."

Marcus drove for about four hours when the truck started making a coughing noise. It was minor at the start and blended in with the rest of the sounds the old girl made. But like all coughs, it got more insistent until Jenna was shaking Grant's elbow to wake him up less than a minute later. The guy sputtered a bit, "Huh? Wha? What is it?"

"Grant, the truck is making a funny noise."

"Wha?"

"The truck, man," Marcus spoke louder than was necessary but Grant was having trouble pulling himself out of that sleep. "The truck is making a noise." He glanced down at the instrument panel and cursed, "Shit! She's overheating!"

"Pull over," Grant demanded and Marcus cut the wheel and pulled onto the gravel shoulder. Clouds were bubbling out from under the hood and the truck shuddered and heaved and died as Marcus pumped the clutch. They coasted the rest of the way off the road and Marcus jammed on the break, knocked it into neutral when it came to a stop and stood on the emergency break to keep the truck from rolling before piling out. Grant rolled out of his door, and she followed suit. The stench coming from the engine hit her and Grant popped the hood and jumped back as a thick cloud billowed out into the still, pre-dawn air.

It didn't bode well.

"Looks like the radiator is cracked," Marcus said after pulling his torso out from under the hood and taking the flashlight from between his clenched teeth.

"Well, hell!" Grant cursed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He sighed tiredly and said, "Any idea where we are, David?"

"I saw a sign not far back. We're about three miles out from Sioux Falls."

"I guess we'll have to walk and try and get a tow truck once we hit town."

There was no point in hanging around, so Marcus hefted the guitar case onto his shoulders and she winced a little as the clang of metal on metal rang softly. Grant was too busy cursing the truck and digging his soda out from under the front seat to notice so she breathed a little easier.

Her legs hadn't had enough time to rest properly and her feet dragged as they walked. It wasn't as if she hadn't put a million miles on her sneakers in the past eight days, but it was catching up on her now and she honestly felt like sitting down on the side of the road and going to sleep for a day or two. There wasn't a part of her that wasn't sore and tired. At least it was a nice night out.

The distance dragged on, and they only saw one car pass by them that just sped on past as Grant stuck his thumb out. She didn't figure that they would get picked up and she was resigned to walk the whole way. It was like seeing the pearly gates of heaven when they finally got their asses into an all night diner a little over an hour later. It was five-thirty AM, so the place was pretty empty. Just a trucker, an insomniac and a waitress who looked as tired as she felt.

She and Marcus sank into a booth while Grant went up to the counter to talk to the waitress about getting a phone book to call a tow truck. She seemed to take pity on the old guy and told him there were a few tow trucks in town, but only one salvage yard which might have the used parts he was looking for. "If ole Bobby is even around. He takes off for days on end sometimes," she complained. "Don't ask me how he keeps his business going, but who am I to say?"

Grant went to the phone at the end of the counter with his phone book and a moment later the waitress was at their booth about to pour coffee into mugs for them.

"We don't have any money," Marcus told her, covering his mug with a dark hand.

"And believe me… I can tell," she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand out of the way and poured the mug full. "It's old. Don't worry about it." Jenna didn't doubt the creamers weren't at their freshest either, but who was she to complain about free coffee? She had already taken a good sized gulp when the lady came back and put a plate with a stack of toast and a couple muffins in front of them. "Don't bother, they're stale," she waved Marcus down when he opened his mouth to protest. "I wouldn't let a dog starve in the street either." The second she walked away they dug into the food. The toast was warm and buttery, there were jam packets in a bowl on the scarred Formica; and the muffins were only slightly dry, nothing that a good dose of butter and jam couldn't fix. It felt so good to be eating something that didn't come out of a box or bag.

Grant came over a few minutes later. "Hey, kids. Tow truck driver said he'd be about an hour before he comes to pick me up and takes be back to the truck. Are you two riding north with me when the old girl gets fixed, or are you going off on your own?"

"I think we'll make our own way, Grant," Marcus smiled and stuck out his hand. "But thanks for everything you've done for us. Really appreciate it, man."

"Yeah, Grant," she added. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have made it this far so soon."

"It's nothing, kids. Hope things work out for you at your aunt's." He waved as he turned and went back to the counter to get himself something to eat.

She looked across the table to Marcus, unsure of what to do right now. They were in the neighboring State, but now they had to get the rest of the way and then find Greasy-Vest and Dark-Hair. Perhaps they'd be able to go to the DMV in Bismarck and see if they could look up an address for that plate number. She certainly didn't want to do any more walking right now and the battered booth seats felt like lazy-boy recliners on her sore bones.

"If you two would like to earn a little extra cash," the waitress called to them from the counter, "I have a few chores that could be done."

Marcus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The guy hadn't slept in more than thirty hours, but a resigned look crossed his tired face. The chance to earn a few bucks was the carrot on the stick that they both needed.

"Whatcha got?"

She was up to her elbows in dish water as she pulled the sink plug. A stack of newly cleaned pots, pans and utensils lay across the stainless steel counter and she wiped her forehead with her arm. She glanced over to the guitar case which Marcus had left with her while he went to empty garbage bins and scrub the floors. She still had to go clean the giant front windows…

He ducked his head into the kitchen and hissed, "Psst! Jenna! Get out here and check this out!" The look in his eyes was something she hadn't seen since before this whole nightmare started and she grabbed the guitar case and hustled back out front. Marcus was looking out the front window at the tow truck and the driver of the truck talking to Grant on the sidewalk.

"You have got to be shitting me," she breathed, not believing what she was seeing. Sure, it wasn't dark out anymore, and she could see the guy in the light of day, and this certainly wasn't the truck that came bounding up her driveway with guns blazing and zombies heads exploding all around them… but she recognized that hat and vest. She recognized that beard, and she definitely remembered the set of those shoulders.

"Singer Salvage…" she whispered. "I'll be goddamned."