An African-American little girl and an eighteen year old brunette, hair chopped short, dressed one step above gangster, could attract quite a bit of attention – especially if they were traipsing along a set of train tracks half a mile outside the nearest town, which happened to be little more than a hamlet.
And the attention was often entirely of the worst sort.
This was what made Jessica glance frequently over her shoulders as they walked through the forest, one hand on the pocket where she kept a knife concealed. Though she didn't know what she'd do with a knife if guns showed up.
"Why do you keep doing that?" Mel asked, looking up at the older girl.
"No reason. Just nerves. Hanging out with you is dangerous." Jess answered, trying to summon a grin.
"There's no reason. We haven't seen anybody for the past few months. They're far behind us."
Jess turned again to face behind them. "How do you know?"
"How do you know they're still after us?" Mel asked, stolidly stomping through a high stand of grass.
"I have dreams that can tell the future, what do you think?"
"You dreamed about her, didn't you?" Mel said, stopping dead and staring at Jessica with fear in her face.
"Maybe." Jess answered, grabbing the little girl's shoulder and pushing her along. "Let's just go, 'kay?"
"What did you dream? Jess, tell me!"
Jess just ignored the little girl. One thing was bound to be bad when you could see the future in your dreams, and that was déjà vu. It never meant anything good. And she had it at the moment, very bad.
Not again.