Chapter 7
Bruce disappeared into the wilderness once again. Lisa leaned in the glass doorway impatiently.
"Come on Brucie… mummy's tired," she called to the darkened forest. She sighed. He always did this. Her loyal sentinel vanishes into the thicket for an absurd moment of privacy when nature calls. She quietly giggled to herself; At least out there, I don't have to clean it up.
Minutes passed, and the cold bore into Lisa's skin. She wrapped her arms and massaged her shivering flesh. Tiny snowflakes drifted through the air and melted on the frozen ground. Her spectral breath wisped from her lips. Here, in the deadening wind, she felt comfortably alone.
Ghosts often visited her. Cynthia's cheerful fearfulness. Her father's painful smiles. And Jackson…
She shook the phantoms as Bruce reemerged from the shadows. He wagged his tail with satisfied glee. His master ushered him though the welcome door. Lisa lingered in the numbing cold. The still night, fluttered with flurries, wrapped her in soothing obscurity. She took an icy breath that stung her lungs. The night was over.
As she gathered herself to turn in for the night, she caught a glimpse of the distant roadway. There, in the darkness, sat the black outline of a still vehicle. Its headlights cut into the darkness. She squinted. Her heart seized. The car turned. It was coming up her driveway. Bruce whined angrily as it approached. Lisa's neck pulsed. Her flesh tingled.
She reached behind her, to her black purse resting on the end table. Absently she pawed as the car crept closer. The headlights brighter and brighter, blinded her. Bruce barked, rattling her bones.
The car stopped, feet from her front door. Time paused. Lisa watched the door swing open. She grabbed her purse, the gun tucked safely inside. Hopefully she could at least scare them away. A woman's shapely suede boot stepped slowly on the gravel.
"'Scuse me. Sorry to bother you. I thought this was the road to 220," the redhead called as she emerged from the driver's seat.
Lisa shielded her eyes. "220?" she replied. Bruce growled menacingly behind her. She glowered at him, but he persisted. Frustrated, she closed the door.
"Yes…" The woman glanced at a crumble map cradled in her hands. "I guess I'm lost."
"Oh," Lisa sighed with relief. She dropped her head and recaptured her breath. As the terror left her, the cold returned. "It's a few miles away. You must have made a lot of wrong turns to end up here."
"Oh," moaned the strange woman, "I'll never make it to Petersburg at this rate!" The woman dropped the map in dismay. Lisa felt a twinge of pity for this wayward traveler.
"Do you have to be there tonight?" asked Lisa.
"No, tomorrow. My grandma passed away. I'm just so tired from all this driving…"
"Oh," Lisa replied consolingly. "I can show you where a motel is, and how to get to 220 from there. You could get some rest and try again later."
"Oh, thank you so much, you're an angel!" cheered the redhead happily. Lisa scrawled directions to the small Comfort Inn on the outskirts of the wilderness, and the car soon trekked back down the driveway. Lisa smiled and retired. Soon it occurred to her. The motion sensor didn't kick on.
As the woman pulled back onto the main road, she crumbled and tossed the scribbled directions into the backseat. She expertly navigated the rural roads to the Night Owl Inn.