Catching an Evil Tail

by Mary Abshire

  The quiver in my legs abated, so I picked up my pace. The heat rising from the asphalt felt hotter than the actual sun on my bare arms. Fortunately, I still had my bikini on underneath my clothes. If I got too hot, I'd remove my tank top and shorts. Maybe it would help get me a ride if a car ever came by.

  Minutes later, I glanced behind me to search for a car. There was nothing but heat waves from the pavement and Gabe's overturned SUV in the distance. At any moment, I feared the werewolf would emerge and come for me.

  I started jogging. My legs resisted at first, and twinges of pain warned me not to overexert myself. I heeded the warning and ran at a steady pace.

  Sweat rolled down my face. I raised my hand to wipe my forehead and jerked my other wrist in the process. The handcuffs were a problem I'd have to deal with later. First order of business was to get out of the heat and away from Gabe.

  As I ran along the road, I thought about all the things I wanted to do when I got back to the hotel. First, I'd gulp down several bottles of ice-cold water. Then, I'd spend at least thirty minutes in a cold shower. Lastly, I'd order as much food from the restaurant as I could and stuff myself. Of course, everything depended upon me making it back to the hotel.

  I ran as far as I could until the heat exhausted me and I wanted to puke. I stopped in the middle of a lane, panting and drenched in sweat. It was time to ditch some clothes. I lifted my shirt over my head, then wiped the moisture and remnants of blood from my face. As I lowered my shirt, I saw a car coming my way. At least I hoped it was a car and not a mirage. Taking in deep breaths, I watched the gray blur as I walked into the middle of the road. The outline of the car became clearer. When I realized it wasn't an illusion, a rush of joy filled me. I prayed whoever was behind the wheel would be kind enough to stop and give a sweating, handcuffed lady a ride.

  The car slowed as it drew near. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I was certain I had seen two people sitting in the front. I lifted my hands in the air with my palms facing them. Surely, they would see I was a woman in distress.

  The vehicle crawled to a stop several feet from me. A man sat in the driver's seat, a woman next to him. As I approached the driver cautiously, keeping my cuffed hands at waist level, he lowered the window.

  "Is there a problem?" the man asked. He had long black hair and looked as if he hadn't shaved in days.

  Cool air leaked out of their car. My skin welcomed it and craved more. I leaned closer to the open window. "Someone tried to kidnap me. I need to get to a phone." I licked the salty sweat from my lips. "Do you have one?"

  The woman leaned over the man and peered at me. "We don't have a phone, but we can give you a ride to the next stop."

  The cold air felt so good on my heated skin. "If you can give me a ride to the next stop, that would be great."

  "The back's unlocked," the man said with a tilt of his head.

  Without wasting any time, I opened the door. A mound of clothes and shoes filled the back.

  "You'll have to excuse our mess." The woman leaned between the seats and pushed items to her side. "We're moving to Mexico."

  I bit my lip and hesitated taking a ride with them since they were heading in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. But since I hadn't seen any other cars, I doubted another would show any time soon. Not to mention, I was thirsty, hot, and aching. My best bet was to get to a phone and call for help.

  "I appreciate the ride," I said as I sat in the backseat.

  Seconds later, the car was accelerating. Clothes touched my legs and elbow, crowding my small space, but I wasn't about to complain. The air was cooler and I could rest.

  "Are you okay?" the man asked, looking at me through the mirror. "Do you need a doctor?"

  "We have a medical kit if you need it." The young woman settled back in the passenger seat.

  "I'll be fine," I said. "When you see a car turned over ahead, just speed past it."

  "Who kidnapped you?" the lady asked.

  I hesitated to explain. I couldn't say it was some dumbass werewolf. They'd probably think I was crazy and stop the car. "I don't know the guy. He said my husband needed me, so I followed him to his car. That's when he knocked me out."

  "How did you get away from him?" she asked.

  "After I woke up, I jumped over the seat and strangled him. I was trying to get him to stop the car, but it flipped."

  "Oh my gosh." Her eyes were wide with fright. "Is the driver alive?"

  "I don't know. I got out and ran." The two exchanged glances.

  "This is why we need a phone," he said.

  "We don't need to discuss this now," she said, irritation edging her voice.

  I was curious to learn why they didn't carry a cell phone with them in this day and age, but I dared not ask. Their comments led me to believe the topic would spark an argument.

  "You wouldn't have anything to get these off, would you?" I held up my cuffed wrists.

  "Honey?" the lady asked.

  He shook his head. "I have a knife, but it's probably too big for the lock."

  I let out a deep sigh and lowered my hands. I hadn't thought they could help, but it didn't hurt to ask.

  "What's your name?" the driver asked, staring in the mirror.

  "Jessie."

  "I'm Dillon. This is my wife, Becca." She smiled at me.

  "I really appreciate the ride," I said.

  "I'm glad we were around to help." Becca slowly twisted around and faced the front.

  Several minutes of silence passed. My body was still hot and sweating, but not nearly as bad as when I was outside under the burning sun. I stared out the front and side windows, waiting for us to pass the overturned car. I wondered if Gabe had gotten out.

  Becca lifted her hand and pointed to the window. "Is that it?"

  Dillon sat up and peered through the windshield. "Looks like an overturned car to me."

  The crushed and mangled car appeared the same as when I’d left.

  "Go fast." My heart hammered against my chest. I had no idea if Gabe had any weapons. If he did, I didn't want anything to happen to the nice couple.

  The engine revved as Dillon drew closer to Gabe's vehicle. There were no signs of life and no other cars within sight. Anxiety bubbled up within me and my heart thumped faster. I hoped Gabe was still unconscious.

  Becca and I stared out the window as we whizzed by. I held my breath, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, I released a huge sigh and leaned back in my seat.

  Becca twisted around and faced me. "I didn't see anyone."

  The soft tone of her voice comforted me. "I'm calling my husband at the next stop."

  "Do you think he could've paid this guy to kidnap you?" she asked.

  Dillon glanced at me through the mirror. "Maybe you should call the cops first."

  "I doubt my husband would do such a thing." Although I doubted Alan was behind my kidnapping, I decided to call Jeremy first. I trusted him more. "How far is the next stop?" I asked, anxious to make that call.

  "The last sign I saw said sixty miles," Becca said. "But that was several miles back."

  At least fifty miles before the next stop? Crap on my grave. And to make matters worse, we were heading farther away from Phoenix. I had a bad feeling it would take Jeremy several hours to reach me. The thought lowered my good mood and more anxiety swirled within me. I was stuck. I had no choice but to sit back, wait, and try to relax. At least I was free and resting in air conditioning.

  "Do you know what time it is?" I asked.

  "It's a little past seven," Becca replied.

  The time surprised me. I'd been unconscious longer than I thought. On the positive side, my absence should've given cause for concern. My date with Alan was at seven. Since I'd failed to show, he should have suspected something was wrong.

  I stared out the window and rested my head against the glass. The sun was in the west and offered a couple more hours of light. I wasn't going to make it back to the hotel before dark, but at lea
st I'd get to a phone. And when I did, everything would be better. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

  Sometime later, I saw signs for gas, food, and lodging. My pulse worked faster. Nervous energy kept my leg bouncing. I couldn't wait to call Jeremy. When we finally reached the exit, I wanted to jump with joy.

  Dillon turned into a massive parking lot. The happiness I'd felt disappeared. Queasiness took over as I gazed at row after row of parked semi trucks. We were at a fucking truck stop.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Becca and her husband stopped to let me out of their car. The lot was crowded with cars and semis parked on the side. Diesel fumes and the smell of greasy food hung in the air. After I had repeated multiple times how grateful I was for the ride, I turned to face the restaurant. Nervous energy consumed me and soured my stomach. Without a doubt, there were werewolves in the building. This was a truck stop after all. I glanced down at my wrists. Becca had given me a sweater, so I had draped it over my hands. The garment effectively covered the handcuffs. In one hand, I held a folded dollar bill Becca had given to me. Trepidation made me hesitate, but I knew I had to go inside. I had to walk in and find a phone.

  "Do you need help?" Becca asked.

  I spun around. She and her husband hadn't driven away yet. They sat in their car, watching me.

  "No, I'll be fine," I said. "Thank you again, for everything."

  Her husband mumbled something to her. Following a final wave from the nice couple, they drove off.

  I exhaled a big sigh as I headed for the entrance to the restaurant. I looked messy with tangled hair and dirty shirt, but at least I'd managed to clean the blood off my face. As long as I kept my cuffs hidden, I hoped I wouldn't call too much attention to myself.

  I strolled inside behind a couple with a little boy. The hairs on my arms sprouted with life. Strong energy brushed over me, making my skin feel as if little bugs crawled all over me. Werewolves were in the restaurant.

  The couple with the child stopped a few feet from the door. I peeked around them and found a sign that said "Please Seat Yourself." Past the sign, families and groups of men occupied the tables and booths. Dishes filled with leftovers remained in the few vacant ones. At the counter, I found a few open spots. Calm and without fear, I stepped around the couple. Assuming the pay phone would be near the restrooms, I headed for a vacant spot in the back.

  The public phone hung on the wall between the men's and women's restrooms. I lifted the handle and pressed zero for the operator. While Becca had given me money, I wanted to save my dollar for a drink.

  "This is the operator. How can I assist you?" I barely heard her over the chattering voices from the restaurant.

  "I need to make a collect call to the Biltmore hotel, room ten fifty-four," I said.

  "And your name?" she asked.

  "Jessie Garrett."

  "One moment."

  I tapped a finger on the phone while I anxiously waited. If Jeremy wasn't there, I wasn't sure what to do. I hadn't worked out a plan B yet.

  After a few minutes of silence, the woman came back on the line. "Go ahead."

  "Hello?" I asked.

  "Hello?" Jeremy shouted, as if he couldn't hear me. "Jessie?"

  Relief flooded me. It was good to hear his voice. I doubted I'd have such a feeling for him in the future.

  "Jeremy, you have to help me," I said with urgency.

  "Where are you?" he asked.

  "I'm at a truck stop off interstate nineteen in a restaurant called Sampson's. It's at exit ninety-three."

  "Are you all right?"

  "So far. Gabe knocked me out and kidnapped me. I got away from him, but he still might be looking for me. You've got to hurry and come get me."

  A large man wearing a cap walked past me. He pushed open the bathroom door and stopped. He looked at me and wrinkled his nose.

  I glared at him. "What?" I suspected he noticed my demon perfume.

  The man shook his head and strolled into the bathroom. Yeah, he knew.

  "What's wrong?" Jeremy asked.

  "I'm being tracked," I said, hoping he would understand me. I doubted it was appropriate to say werewolf at a truck stop.

  "All right. Stay there. We're on our way," he said fast.

  I wanted to ask what he meant by "we," but didn't want to stay on the phone any longer than I had to. "Hurry, Jeremy. I don't want my dream to be accurate."

  "We're coming. Stay near people."

  "Then I better go," I said, thinking the werewolf in the bathroom already suspected I wasn't a normal human.

  "If anything happens to you, I'll take revenge," he said in a tone that gave me a chill, yet made me feel good at the same time.

  "I expect you to," I said, then I hung up on him. He was the reason I was in Arizona in the first place. If some werewolf was going to attack and maul me, Jeremy had better kill the fucker on my behalf.

  I headed for the counter and snagged a stool between two men, keeping my covered and cuffed hands in my lap. My skin twitched, warning me that neither man was human. Jeremy had instructed me to stay near people. Waiting in a public setting seemed like safe idea. But since the majority of individuals in the restaurant weren't human, I had no choice but to hover close to the werewolves. I reminded myself they couldn't all be bad. Alan wasn't.

  The man on my left had shoulder-length gray hair and a beard. He wore a black t-shirt and raggedy jeans. He stared at his cell phone. A plate of fries was farther up on the counter in front of him. He smiled cheerfully.

  "What are you lookin' at, Gerry?" said the waitress as she set a tall glass of cola in front of him. Her nametag on her white t-shirt read Missy.

  Gerry chuckled. "My grandbaby started walking." He held the phone up so Missy could see.

  "Oh," she said. "He is such a doll."

  Gerry faced me. "Would you like to see him?"

  I smiled. "Sure."

  Gerry held his phone in front of me. A picture of a half-naked little boy with chubby arms and legs, dressed in a diaper, filled the screen.

  "He's a cutie," I said.

  "He's eleven months old. I'm on the road most of the time, so my daughter sends me pictures." His gray beard shook when he spoke.

  "That's nice of her," I said, keeping up with the small talk.

  "Are you done with your fries, Gerry?" Missy reached for the plate.

  "No, not yet." He returned to staring at his cell.

  Missy looked at me. "Can I get you something, dear?"

  "A tall glass of cold water would be nice."

  "Coming right up." She left, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gerry showed me his phone again. The screen showed another picture of the little boy. This time, he was sitting in a big Easter basket.

  "Oh, he is so adorable." I reached for the phone. The sweater shifted between my hands and revealed the silver cuffs on my wrists. Gerry saw them and the cheery look on his face changed. I drew my hands back into my lap. "I'm not in any trouble. Well, not criminal."

  Missy returned and set my glass of water down in front of me. She dropped a straw next to my drink. "Can I get you anything else?"

  I shook my head. "No, thank you."

  "I'll be back in a few." She took off toward the other end of the counter.

  I lifted my hands and snatched up the straw.

  Gerry studied me with curious eyes. "What kind of trouble are you in?"

  As I tore off the paper from the straw in my lap, I stared at the French fries on his plate. They were the wide and thick kind and looked oh-so-delicious. My stomach growled.

  "I came to Phoenix to help a friend and things got a little crazy." I scooted the glass closer to me, then slid the straw into the water.

  He leaned closer to me. "Guy trouble?"

  "Something like that." I sucked on my straw and gulped down the water.

  Gerry chuckled. "I remember when my wife and I tried using cuffs. We ended up breaking the headboard."

  I swallowed too f
ast and choked. The water almost came out my nose. I started coughing.

  Gerry patted me on the back. "Whoa, calm down."

  "I'm all right." My voice sounded scratchy. I cleared my throat. "I'll be fine."

  Gerry gave me an earful for forty minutes. The man shared stories about his wife, kids, and grandkids. He asked me a few questions, which I answered vaguely. The man treated me like a father would treat his daughter, with kindness and concern. He even shared his fries with me. I finished them all. When it came time for him to leave, part of me wanted to beg him to stay just a bit longer.

  "It was nice chatting with you, Jessie." He tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.

  "Thanks for keeping me company," I said.

  He smiled and waved to Missy. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

  "Be careful out there," she told him.

  I watched as he walked out. Gerry was a fun-loving type of guy. Based on the stories he'd told me, the life of a trucker wasn't as lonely as I thought it was.

  I started to turn around when I caught sight of an African-American man sitting in a booth. He was bald and looked vaguely familiar. Then the image of him talking to Alan popped into my head. Alan had said his name was Ron.

  I twisted around on my stool as anxiety jumpstarted my heart. What was Ron doing there? Could he have been with Jeremy and Alan when I'd called earlier? Or was he working with Gabe? The fact that he sat at a booth alone didn't give me a positive feeling about him.

  "Mind if I join you?"

  I glanced over my shoulder to find Ron. Intuition told me the werewolf was not a friendly one. But I played nice. "Do I have a choice?"

  He chuckled and sat on the stool Gerry had vacated. "Are you enjoying your stay here?" His deep, creepy voice made my skin crawl.

  "I was until Gabe showed up," I said.

  Missy appeared in front of Ron. "Can I get you anything?"

  "A Coke, please." He rubbed his hands together then turned to me. "Hungry?"