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She must have run along the access road or on parallel streets for nearly three hours, wherever passage was simplest. There were a few other people jogging too, all as randomly dressed as she was. No one paid her any attention.
The air was noticeably drier than it had been at the Delbosque house. She stopped for water several times: once, cupping up water from a sprinkler system in front of a house, another time at a mall water fountain, and once at a gas station. Despite seeing several cars and trucks being refueled, there was no clear opportunity to arrange her own transportation. The only choice was to keep running.
Running still felt wonderful, but not quite as wonderful as it had earlier. Daylight was fading. Lights were appearing on vehicles and on buildings. Far ahead she could see the lights along the highway begin to thin out as the interstate left the populated area and headed into the desert. That could be a problem. She couldn’t run much longer, and especially not into the desert at night.
Cresting a low hill, in the distance was a string of yellowish lights along both sides of the interstate and a sign announcing "Rest Stop 1 Mile." A rest wouldn't be a bad idea at all.
It consisted of several small buildings at the center of a long pull-off area. Three vehicles were parked along the curb. She walked past the first, a low, sleek car with intricate lacy designs painted all over it. The windows of the car were dark and it appeared empty.
The nearest building contained lighted soft drink machines behind a cage and a water fountain where she took a long drink. The building that most interested her was the second. A sign said "Women" at one end.
When Darcy came out, with her hair freshly arranged under her ball cap, she noticed the car she had passed had moved in front of the restroom building. A man was lounging against the fender, looking at her. He was youngish, had on a shiny vest of some kind, and his crossed arms sported a number of large tattoos. He was smiling.
"Orale, mamacita!" Hey, sweetheart, he said. "You looking for a party, maybe? I know where we can find a real pachanga.” Party. What do you say?"
"No, thanks," she said, wringing her hands in front of her and getting ready to dart away.
A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, young muscular arms with even more tattoos.
A voice close to her ear said "Hey, mami, you see the party, maybe you change your mind, ¿que no? Why not? You think so, Rico?"
A bristly cheek rubbed against her neck.
The other man drawled "Yeah. I think maybe so. I think maybe we should at least give her the chance."
He eased off the fender of the car, flipped his cigarette onto the ground in a shower of sparks, and walked casually up to her. He did not stop until he was close enough that she could see his beard stubble despite the darkness. He was still smiling, but his eyes were cold.
"Yeah, I think we should. I bet she’ll have a real good time."
