Chapter 2
I arrive back at the truck out of breath and covered in a thin layer of grime. Tossing the crowbar and flashlight onto the seat I rush to throw Susan into gear. Keeping my lights low, I make a U-turn back to the highway thirty minutes away.
Not a moment later as I pull into traffic my phone rings, scaring the crap out of me.
"José? What's up?" I breathe out, eyes flickering back and forth from each mirror searching for I don't know what.
"What's up? Chica, you were supposed to be here this morning. We made tamales, guacamole, and everything." I can picture him being forced to help make tamales by Ares, his wife and business partner.
"Did something happen?" A pause. "Did you get arrested? Need me to bail you out?"
That was a loaded question. "Nah, I just overslept, you know how creepy those roadside rest stops are. I didn't get arrested, geez! It was one time!" I mentally facepalm, rolling my eyes. "No te preocupes. Wait. Por qué tienes esa cara?" I question. The longer we talk the safer I feel.
A sigh crackles over the phone. "José I can feel your RBF from here." I joke.
He chuckles," My what? The hell is a RBF?"
"A resting bitch face, chillon. I've faced it too many times to count to know that what comes after I need to bring a peace offering. I'm two hours out of Atlanta. You know me, I can't read a map to save my life."
"Ha! Last thing I remember is that you were the crybaby. Make it two Rocky Roads and one Chunky Monkey, Ares is having cravings, again."
I almost forgot that they were expecting. If there is one thing I know it's that my brother will always take care of his own.
Seeing nothing following me, I ease up on the gas.
"Great, your kid'll be as big as you. God, he'll be the cutest thing ever. Hopefully he takes after Ares, I've seen your baby picture you were a funky looking baby!" Laughing, I lean over to open the glove box listening to José grumble in my ear, when a huge white flash lights up the sky followed by a loud boom. Triggering the few vehicles on the road to swerve everywhere at once as a mini shock wave hits us.
Swearing, I drop the phone, narrowly missing the car in front of me. Pumping the breaks on Susan I pull off to the side of the road like most people. José is still on the line speaking rapidly. Just as I grab my cellphone from the floor a loud knock hits my window.
Startled, I see a largely built curly haired man gesture to talk outside, his brown eyes meet my hazel ones in concern and confusion.
"José, I'm fine. I'll fill you in later," I huff, "you won't believe it. See you in a bit. Bye." I hang up before his frantic Spanglish reminds me of our mother.
Stowing my phone in my back pocket, I lay my head on the steering wheel flexing my fingers on its sides. Once I'm relaxed as can be, I open my door and jump out.
Mr. Curly has disappeared, giving me a chance to stretch and see the wavering smoke and flames in the distance.
Across the highway are strewn vehicles parked at odd, jerky angles. Just what I needed, a traffic jam. Drivers and passengers alike are communing with one another about the explosion.
On my left side, parked behind Susan, I spot the mystery man inside his truck calming down his dog. Closing my door, I trudge through the weeds to return the gesture.
This well-thought out plan causes the dog to bark from his seat. Giving the German Shepard a quick pat on the head, he climbs out to stand next to me. Wearing a blue flannel shirt and dark Wrangler jeans, he towers over me.
Adjusting to the difference in height, my 5'6" to his 6'2", I step back to angle my neck to speak.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" I say, twisting my fingers through my belt loops.
His gaze casually skims over me from my tangled waves, to my dirty grey t-shirt and jeans, down to the tattered pair of sneakers.
"Are you alright?" he asks in a slow southern drawl. One hand reached for his jaw, scratching at his stubble. "It's just that I was right behind you when this—whatever this is, happened. I also caught a glimpse of your truck's front-end. How'd that happen?"
At my questioning look, he continues, " I don't mean to pry, but my mama raised me a gentleman. She'd kill me if I ever left a lady in need. Especially in a time like now."
Slack-jawed, because the only time I'm referred to as a lady is when the shit has hit the fan.
Relief and laughter color my words, "Oh! That. We'll there are j-just so so many... bugs out tonight! I might have hit them all!" He lets out a low laugh, pleased with my bad lying skills I quickly change the subject when I ask about his dog.
"She's alright, a little spooked but who isn't? Ol' Nora will be right as rain once we're home." Giving a click of his tongue, Nora sticks her head out the window with her tongue lolling out. He scratches behind her ear, with a small nudge on my back he gestures for me to pet her. "She likes attention, this one. Only girl in my life willing to stick around with my schedule."
He gives me a nod. Lifting my hand slowly, I let her give it a sniff. I'm met with approval with a huge lick to the face. Laughing I give Nora one last scratch on her scruff before I move back.
Before I get the chance to introduce myself, loud screeching sirens burst from the end of the traffic jam. Driving through the median, the emergency vehicles slowly make their way past us towards the fire.
"I wonder what happened?" He questions, his eyes trailing after the blinding lights. "Might of been an exploding oil rig or gas line, probably. Something big to cause an explosion like that."
"Yeah, something big," I mutter. Thinking back to Lt. Stevens and the walking corpse.
"It's a good thing I'm off-duty," he says quietly, gazing back at me he introduces himself, " I'm Shane Walsh." Holding out his hand, I clasp it into my smaller one.
"Zia Faraday."
Smiling at each other, I spot a glint of something on his belt, hidden behind his loose flannel shirt. "What exactly do you do, Mr. Walsh?"
Shane gives me a smirk, crinkling his eyes. Puffing out his chest, he unclips something from his belt and hold it out towards me, "Well Ms. Faraday, I'm a cop."