Frater, Rhiannon - As the World Dies 04

by Beautiful Bitch

  Shoving the door open, Amaliya pulled her bag out and looked back at the crazed woman. It was better this way. The battered, stained and mutilated divorce decree that Amaliya had found on the floor revealed how warped the woman was. The kids and the ex-husband were safer with her gone.

  Slamming the passenger door shut, she walked back toward the highway. There was no way in hell she was taking the old beat up truck. It stank too much and she didn't want to deal with the crazy bitch's body.

  As she trudged along, her bag swinging against her back, she sighed.

  It was freaking hard to be a poor-ass Texan vampire. Nothing about it was easy or fun.

  Reaching the highway, she didn't even try to hitch. If someone stopped, good, if not, she'd keep walking until she got somewhere.

  Though her mother had always wanted her to travel and experience life, she was sure this was not what Mom had hoped for.

  An ambulance siren echoed out of the distance and she turned to watch it barrel down the road. With sad eyes, she wondered if it was Pete on the way to the big hospital in Nacogdoches. Silently, she prayed he would be okay. Or maybe it was more of a wish. She wasn't sure she could pray anymore.

  She trudged along for almost twenty minutes before another small truck pulled over. The cab was crammed full of Mexicans as was the truck bed. They all looked tired and sweaty from a long day's work somewhere and two reached out to help her up into the back.

  “Muchas gracias,” she said, hoping she didn't slaughter her Grandmother's language too bad.

  They just smiled at her in response and then went back to staring into space as the truck sped back onto the highway. They all looked terribly fatigued and dirty. She was glad she had fed off the crazy woman and that their blood stained knuckles held no attraction for her now. She was sated and it was good.

  Without her having to ask, the driver pulled into a truck stop that was brightly lit by huge lights that pierced into the darkness. Again, the men helped her down, and one handed her bag over. A few waved to her as the truck sped on and she raised a hand, feeling a hard lump in her throat at their kindness.

  The heat from the truck stop was overwhelming. Massive semi-trucks sat growling in long rows. People were moving about, checking on their vehicles as others moved toward the huge building that housed a restaurant and convenience store. Walking across the asphalt, she felt a cold trickle flow down her back.

  Whirling about, she looked into the darkness, fear blossoming inside of her.

  He was here.

  She knew it.

  Felt it.

  Walking backward, she stared out into the night and listened to the cars speeding down the highway and the engines rumbling all around her. The whine of air brakes and the laughter of men filled her ears, but still she could hear the Professor's voice in her mind.

  Still alive? Doing well? I'm impressed.

  She turned around and fled to the building as fast as she could.

  Holding down her cowboy hat as she ran, she could feel the big bag beating against her back. In her haste, she tripped and fell smack into a puddle of oil and grimaced as it splattered her face. Terrified that she was being pursued, she quickly rolled onto her hip and looked behind her.

  There was no sign of her tormentor.

  Scrambling quickly to her feet, she rushed past a few truckers looking at her in surprise, shoved open the door to the building, and stumbled in.

  A bored-looking girl, with her hair heavily gelled and pulled back into a very tight ponytail, looked up from where she was reading a tabloid behind the counter. There were a few truckers prowling the aisles, looking for snacks and other supplies. Through an arched doorway in the wall, Amaliya could see into the restaurant. Business seemed to be better on that side.

  “Showers are over there,” the girl said in a bored voice, and popped her bubblegum. She pointed across the heavily-stocked aisles to a large sign that read Restrooms and Showers.

  Startled, Amaliya said, “Thanks,” and headed down an aisle, feeling embarrassed of her appearance. Inside the truck stop, it felt so normal and mundane. The ominous presence she had felt earlier was gone. She felt safe among the mortals.

  Eh, she thought. I'm among mortals. Gawd, that's lame.

  Her luck was definitely staying the course. She was covered in dirty oil and smelled like the crazy woman she had fed on.

  The shelves around her were stocked with all sorts of things she didn't usually see at convenience stores. She hadn't realized so many products were personalized for the truckers on the road. A few of the drivers glanced toward her curiously, but mostly they just wandered the aisles looking at DVDs, mini-TVs, resin statues of Indians and clothes.

  Sighing, she entered the room labeled Showers that had a silhouette of a woman over it. The only other occupant was a woman with curly black hair, blow drying her hair. As if by mutual agreement, they ignored each other. Amaliya headed to the end of the room and sat her bag on a bench. For the second time that night, she pulled out fresh clothes and her toiletries. She headed behind the curtained off area for a quick shower.

  A few minutes later, she sat on the bench next to her bag and tugged on her boots. This time she was in black jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt. The curly headed woman was now putting on makeup.

  “Hitching?”

  Amaliya looked up, startled.

  “Huh?”

  “You don't look like a driver. Either your hitching or you're a girlfriend or wife. And you don't look like either of those.” The woman's keen, dark eyes examined her.

  Amaliya looked at the mirror behind the woman, suddenly afraid.

  “I...yeah.” She didn't know what else to say. She was afraid the woman would notice her lack of reflection and call down the entire truck stop on her.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Just came through there. I'm on my way to New Orleans. Going home or running away?”

  “Bad boyfriend,” Amaliya lied. Well, sort of. Did your murdering vampire professor count as a bad boyfriend?

  “Hit you?”

  “Worse.”

  “If they are smart, they do it where it doesn't show,” the woman said.

  “He's smart.” Amaliya sighed. She tried to keep at the edge of the bench and far away from the mirror.

  “I'll see if anyone will give you a ride. Go get something to eat in the restaurant. What's your name?”

  “Liya.”

  “Nice to meet you Liya. I'm Tammy. I don't like a young woman just hanging out here. Most of the guys are decent, but one or two...well...you know.”

  “They're smart?”

  Tammy smiled slowy. “Yeah. They're smart.” Shoving her blush into her makeup kit, she turned her back to Amaliya and began fussing with her bag.

  Hastily, Amaliya escaped from the room with the evil mirrors and made her way to the restaurant. Her bag banged against her hip as she walked. A few men took note of her now that she wasn't covered in oil.

  “Sit wherever you want,” a forty-something waitress said to her when she passed into the restaurant.

  Unlike some of the big cities in Texas, there wasn't a smoking ban here. The smell of stale cigarettes and fried eggs greeted her as she walked past the long counter lined with truck drivers. Sliding into a corner booth, she sat, nervously hoping that no one would see that the window beside her did not hold her reflection. Reaching out, she snagged the edge of a plaid curtain and tugged it over to obscure that fact and hoped for the best.

  The same waitress reached her table, cocked her hip, and looked down at her. “Watcha getting?”

  “Uh, coffee. Black,” she told the woman. Her name tag read “Rhonda.”

  “That it? You're kinda a tiny thing. You need food.” Though her words should have sounded concerned, they sounded more accusatory.

  “I ate. On the road. A big burger from Dairy Queen,” Amaliya answered. Lying was coming easier to her now.

  “Um,” the woman murmure
d, and walked away clearly not believing her.

  Could she eat? Could she drink? She had no clue, but she was definitely not hungry.

  Glancing out at the busy parking area, she watched several big trucks pull out as two more rumbled up to the fuel tanks. It was a whole different world and it felt safe for now. If the professor was still out there, she did not sense him. Maybe she had imagined his presence.

  But then again, he had said he would be watching her.

  Playing with a sugar packet, she wondered how Pete was. He had not looked as bad as the crazy hag she was pretty sure she had killed. It somewhat bothered her that she felt no remorse for taking the woman's life, yet at the same time she couldn't figure out why she should. Pete was a sweetheart and she did feel bad about what happened between them. But the batshit crazy lady just did not make her feel bad. She had been food, smelly, gross food, but food. Beyond that, she had been a homicidal maniac on her way to kill her ex-husband and steal her kids.

  Amaliya had a feeling that her morals were slipping fast and that she wasn't thinking clearly. But at the same time, it felt good to not really care. If she was going to have to feed, then she shouldn't have to feel bad, right?

  But, still, poor Pete.

  And she didn't even want to think about all those people at that party.

  The coffee cup was set down in front of her abruptly. It rattled around on the saucer, before Rhonda poured the hot dark liquid into it.

  “Thanks,” Amaliya said with a small smile.

  Rhonda just gave her a long look, then walked away clutching the coffee pot. Amaliya stuck her tongue out at the woman's wide hips and watched as Rhonda began to refill the coffee cups at a table full of drivers. The waitress smiled for them and flirted a bit.

  Amaliya made a face and began to tear open little blue packets of sweetener to pour them into the coffee.

  “My name is Rob,” a voice boomed behind her.

  She turned and looked at a huge man. His shirt was stretched over his enormous stomach and his face was jowly.

  “I hear you are looking for a ride?”

  “To Dallas, right.”

  “Okay, I can give you a lift that far. Then I'm heading up to Wichita Falls.”

  She smiled. “Do we need to go now?”

  “Finish your coffee up and I'll meet you outside. Mine is the big blue truck right there.” Rob pointed, his expression a mixture of pride and nerves.

  “Okay, great! I'll be right out.”

  Nodding, the big man lumbered down to the cashier, his white ticket clutched in his hand.

  Looking down at her coffee, Amaliya considered it, then slowly picked up the cup. Gingerly, she took a sip and let the hot fluid glide down her throat. It burned a little, but it seemed to settle down inside of her without an issue. Taking another slow sip, she looked up to see Rob disappear out the door, and she sighed with relief. She just needed to reach Dallas tonight, then Eastland tomorrow. It was a short drive from Eastland to the small town of DeLeon where her Grandmother lived. She could probably call her cousin Sergio for a ride.

  Raising her hand, she motioned to Rhonda. The waitress sighed dramatically, and headed over to her. Obviously, Rhonda thought she was a hooker or something terrible from her expression on her face and her irritation.

  “I need the check.”

  “Rob took care of it. Says he's giving you a ride,” the waitress said in such a way that the word “ride” took on a whole new connotation.

  “Yeah. To see my grandmother.” Amaliya stood up and glared at the woman. To her surprise, the older woman stepped back, looking startled. “I hope he didn't tip you. You've been a total bitch.”

  Brushing past the woman, Amaliya headed out.

  Stalking across the hot parking lot, she gave Rob a quick wave. She was used to people treating her differently because of her tats and her piercings, but the woman could have given her a freaking break.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said to the big man. She tossed her bag up into the cab.

  “Need help?” Rob offered.

  “Nah, I got it.”

  She grabbed the handhold and lugged herself up into the seat. The special hydraulics in the seat shifted under her and she settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

  Looking solemn, Rob climbed in and slammed the door shut.

  Finally, Amaliya thought. I'm out of here.

  Now if only her luck would improve.

  ***

  Tammy entered the restaurant and looked around for the pretty tattooed girl with the raven hair. Hands on her generous hips, she looked over the tables and booths. There was no sign of the young woman and she looked over the counter at Rhonda, who was busy checking out a customer.

  “You see a girl with pretty eyes and tattoos on one arm in here?”

  “Yep,” Rhonda answered, and gave the tall man in the leather vest his change. Nodding as the man handed her back a few ones, she looked toward Tammy. “She left with Rob.”

  “You're kidding!”

  “Nope.”

  Tammy sighed and shook her head. “I told her to let me get her a ride.

  Jackson was going to take her.” She gestured toward an older black man with a scrubby gray beard. “Shit. I can't believe she got a ride with that asshole.”

  Rhonda shrugged. “I have a feeling that kinda girl will do just fine with Rob.”

  Looking a little disgusted with Rhonda's words, Tammy shook her head and headed out to tell Jackson his passenger was gone. She was startled when a tall man with broad shoulders and very pale blond hair bumped into her and jostled her a bit.

  “Sorry, madam,” he said in a prim British accent.

  Despite herself, Tammy blushed deeply. The man seemed very out of place with his fine black silk shirt and gray silk trousers. He was holding a cola in one hand and a DVD in the other.

  “S'ok. I'm fine.”

  The man smiled at her warmly. “Have a good evening,” he said and moved on to check out.

  Despite herself and her husband back home, Tammy couldn't help but check out his posterior as he got in line. Feeling guilty in a good way, she moved on to talk to Jackson.

  Chapter Seven

  Propping her feet up on the dashboard, Amaliya played with the screw top of her soda that Rob had bought her. She thought it was a kind gesture, though she had no real desire to drink or eat. Once she had sated herself on the blood of the crazy woman, she had lost what she now defined as the “need.” Rubbing the side of her nose with her finger, she felt the tiny stud in it scratch her skin. It was a comforting feeling for some reason and she let it sink into her.

  It felt good to be moving again. She had felt downright claustrophobic in the hotel room with Pete laying on the bed like that.

  Knowing she could not go outside during the day had eaten away at her nerves. The memory of her crisped fingers was a pungent memory and repulsive to her. Another thing from the movies that seemed to be true. How many more would join her slowly growing list?

  “Why you going to Dallas?”

  Rob's voice startled her. He had been so quiet for the last thirty minutes, she had slowly lost herself in her own thoughts.

  “It's just a stop along the way back home,” she answered, and pretended to take a sip of her drink. She was growing more and more reluctant to talk about herself and what she was doing. The more lies she made up, the harder it was going to be. Of course, she could just make up one really good story and stick to it, but that thought depressed her somehow. Besides, most of her life she had just lived on a whim and went with the flow. The only thing she had ever staunchly planned for was going to college. Of course, when she got there, she had no idea what to study or do with herself.

  “Most people hitching a ride are doing it cause they're running from something,” Rob said softly, but his voice seemed big and full and filled the cab.

  Well, that summed her up pretty well. She was notorious for running from any situation she didn't like. It was h
er natural instinct. Flee.

  “Well, I'm running to something,” she decided. “I want to see my Grandmama before its too late.”

  Rob nodded. “Gotcha.” He sank back into silence, his big meaty hands holding tightly to the steering wheel as the big truck rumbled down the long highway.

  Glancing into the line of mirrors out the window, Amaliya studied the row of cars behind them. Most were jocking for positions to pass the big truck and she wondered briefly if Professor Sumner was in any of them. He had told her he would watch her and she believed him.

  Smiling slightly, she wondered what her score was so far. Was he taking notes? He was a damn psychology professor. Was he picking her apart? Examining her motives?

  A rat in a maze. She had a feeling that was what she was to him.

  “Married?”

  “No,” she answered softly. “Almost was...once.” Well, technically Pete and her had never been engaged or even dated, but if things had gone differently maybe there would have been a chance. Probably not, but maybe. She could console herself with maybe. Even if she was inclined to believe she would live up to her reputation and would have bolted.

  “I was married, but she died almost two years ago,” he said.

  “Sorry.”

  “It happens.” Again, the man went silent and seemed to turn all his attention to the road.

  The silence was strangely comforting and she snuggled down in the seat to stare up at the stars. Her fingertips lightly stroked the scar where a rosary had been tattooed into her arm. The rough skin was strangely comforting despite what it meant. She could heal and heal well now, so she wondered how it had happened. Maybe when she had transformed into what she was now. She did remember vaguely an incredible amount of pain when she had woken up buried in the earth.

  “We'll be there soon. Dallas. I'm feeling pretty damn tired. I think I'll just pull over and get a motel room. I guess you got folks to pick you up? Or do you need a room for the night?”