Just before dawn, the girl gathered up some extra carrots and snap peas, and left the garage, walking the ten miles along the back road behind the town to the main highway. When she got there, she stuck out her thumb and waited for someone to pull over and offer her a ride.
A trucker pulled off to the shoulder and opened the passenger door for her.
"What's a young thing like you doing out on this road so early in the morning?" he asked.
"I'm going to visit my cousin in Seattle."
"I'm going to Seattle, but I have to stop in Bellingham and won't get there until tomorrow night. If you want, you're welcome to catch a ride there with me." He looked her over. "Hop in," he said and pointed to the back of his cab. "There's a bed back there if you need to sleep."
"Thanks," she said and jumped up, climbing to the back where there was a single bench bed. The space smelled slightly of sweat and that man smell that she knew only too well, but she was tired, and it was a real bed instead of the cold hard ground.
"How long have you been walking?"
"A couple of hours."
"Are you hungry?" the trucker asked.
"Yes," she said, for her stomach was growling.
"When was the last time you ate a real meal?"
"Three days ago."
She heard him click his tongue in disapproval. "There's some chips and sodas on the floor. I'll go to the next truck stop and get you some food."
"I don't have any money."
"I do," he said.
The truck drove off into the darkness. After a while, he spoke.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated. She didn't want to use her real name. She didn't want anyone to take her back to the family. She thought about the old woman in the mansion. She liked the name.
"Rachel," she said simply.
"Call me John."
"Thank you, John," she said.
"You're welcome. Just being a good Samaritan, I guess. Maybe earning some good Karma points."
They drove for a while and she ate some chips and drank a soda.
"What's your cousin's name?" John asked. "Maybe I can call her and tell her where to meet you."
She hesitated. She didn't have a name in mind because she didn't have a cousin waiting for her in Seattle.
"Sadie," she said, using the only other name that meant anything to her. "I don't know if Sadie has a cellphone. She's homeless."
"You were just going to meet her on the streets?"
"Yes," Rachel said and it was then that her plan to run away to Seattle seemed like a really bad idea. She started to cry, her eyes welling up, a sob escaping her lips. She covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting him to hear her, for she was not allowed to cry. She got a beating when she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said between sobs.
"It's okay," John said. "Don't cry. I'll take you to her."
When she got control over herself, she wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve.
"Thank you, John."
In a while, he spoke softly. "You know you can get into foster care if you need to. You don't have to live on the streets."
"No, I don't want a foster family," she said a little too firmly. She cringed, used to being slapped for such insolence. "I'd rather live with Sadie," she said in a soft voice.
"Okay," he said. "That's your choice, I guess. How old are you, anyway? Maybe I should call the police and let them know you're a runaway."
"No, please, don't. They'll just send me back."
There was a long silence and Rachel -- as she now thought of herself -- Rachel knew he was deciding whether to turn her in.
Finally, he sighed audibly.
"Okay. I'll take you to Seattle. You can go to meet your cousin. Like I said, I have to stop in Bellingham, but you're welcome to stay in the back and sleep while I load up. If you change your mind, I can call the authorities, and someone will find you a home. A foster family if your own family is bad."
"I'll be fine," she said, but she was afraid that was a lie. "Please don't send me back."
"I won't. We'll be in Bellingham soon. You should sleep."
"I will."
They drove down the long winding road, the radio tuned to a country and western station. After she'd eaten half a bag of potato chips and drank down a diet soda, she slept, the motion of the truck lulling her to sleep.
When she woke, she was alone in the cab, and John was inside the truck stop. It was starting to get light, and there was a faint sliver of light in the east. Dawn was coming but the lights of the truck stop were still bright. A dozen trucks lined up side by side, the drivers in the restaurant or shop, eating a meal or getting supplies or gas.
John returned to the cab and saw that she was up.
"There you are. You fell asleep and I didn't want to wake you up."
She nodded and gave him a smile. "The bed is soft."
"It's hard as hell," he said with a laugh. "But it's good for my back. Here's some bacon and eggs. I bought you an apple. You should eat something healthy."
She took the food happily and settled back, eating the bacon with relish. "This is so good. Thank you. I haven't eaten a meal for ages."
"How long have you been gone?" he asked, sipping a milkshake. He was in the driver's seat but had craned his neck around to speak with her.
"Four days," she said.
"Four days? Isn't anyone looking for you? I haven't heard any Amber alerts or any reports on the news of any runaways."
"No one would report me missing," she said with a shrug. "No one cares if I live or die."
He frowned at that. "What about your parents?"
She raised a shoulder, feeling sad all of a sudden at how alone she really was. "They're both dead," she lied. She didn't want to tell him the truth -- that her father was alive but a monster. He might as well be dead.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. She heard him sigh heavily. "It must be hard for someone as young as you to lose her parents. This world's a fucked-up place, pardon my French."
She nodded without speaking.
"When you're done eating, you should use the bathroom if you have to. We won't get to Seattle until later tonight because I have to load the rig and then make a couple of stops along the way to do my drops."
"Okay," she said and took her backpack, climbing out and jumping down from the passenger side. She found the bathroom inside the service station, feeling the eyes of the truckers and the clerk on her. She used the bathroom, washing her face and brushing her teeth with her old toothbrush. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her pale hair was thin and greasy after four days without a shower. She ran her brush through her hair and sighed.
There was nothing to be done about it. When she got to the Sisters, she'd be safe.
She went back to the line of trucks, half expecting John to have left her alone, but he was still there.
"Aren't you tired?" she asked when she sat in the passenger seat.
"I slept before I left last night. You should sleep more if you want. We'll be in Seattle sometime this evening."
She yawned. "Maybe I will."
She climbed back into the bed and laid on the rumpled blankets. She hadn't felt this safe for as long as she could remember.
Things had turned out better than she expected. She was fed, she had washed up, and she had slept.
Now, all she had to do was get to the Sisters of Mercy and she'd be fine.
They arrived in Seattle just after sunset.
"Can you take me to the Sisters of Mercy Shelter? My friend hangs out around there."
"Sure thing," he said. "You should definitely stay there. I heard good things about them."
Rachel watched the streets while John drove to the Sisters of Mercy shelter for homeless youth, located in north Seattle.
"This is it," John said when they pulled up to a curb. Rachel glanced out at the street and saw dozens of people standing on the corner or walking along the sidewalk. Young people, boys and girls her age and older.
"Thanks," she said and grabbed her backpack. "Thanks for the food and the ride."
"My pleasure," he said. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to her. "Call me if you get into trouble and need a place to stay. You can always come with me if you need to get off the street."
"Thanks," she said and took the card. It had a picture of a semi-truck and the name Henderson Freight Ltd. Beneath the title was an address and a phone and fax. A cell phone # was written by hand.
"Call the cell if you want to get in touch with me."
"I will," she said and gave him a smile. "You were really nice to help me."
He tipped his baseball cap to her. "You take care. Watch out for yourself. These are some mean streets. You're so young. Too young and innocent to be on the street."
"I will," she said. "The only thing worse that can be done to me is to kill me," she said, and she meant it. "I'll survive."
He shook his head as if he was sad to hear what she said, but it was the truth.