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WE'RE JUST OUT OF ATLANTA when we're slowed by pelting rain. Timuthy is leaning forward in his seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He's trying to squint through the rain, but his visibility is seriously compromised.
He tells Lisa, “I have to admit, I don't really like driving in the rain. I'm not much of a night driver either. If you don't mind... I'm going to stop at the nearest motel.”
“Motel?” Lisa, whose eyes were glassy from boredom, suddenly looks a lot more alert. “You're not driving through the night?”
“Nope. Sorry. I guess I should've made that clear to you,” Timuthy says.
“But... I need to get back home. Sooner than later. My grandma might not even live through the night!”
“I know. Sorry,” he apologizes again. “I sympathize with you, but like I said... a car and rain and Timuthy and darkness is a b-b-b-bad combination. I wouldn't want to wreck.”
My hand is in my pocket, not far from my quartz crystal, so I accidentally overhear one of Lisa's thoughts.
“He would probably wreck if it wasn't dark and raining. He's such a bad driver. Maybe I would be better off with someone else?”
I don't disagree with her. Timuthy is a bad driver, but I'm not sure she'd be better off without him. He seems like a decent guy. Lisa could end up riding with someone way worse.
I keep looking at my LightTab, hoping for a message from Sander—or rather, Sandalphon. He's been gone for a few hours now, and I wish he'd come back. I don't like to be by myself. I'm afraid I'll mess something up, since it's only my third mission. I'm not ready to do this on my own.
I've thought about contacting him, but I would rather not bother him if he's in the middle of something important. What if his absence is some kind of test? Maybe I need to prove that I can handle the situation on my own.
Timuthy stops at one of the dingiest motels I've ever seen. It's so bad, I can practically feel the bedbugs crawling on my arms when I look at it.
“I can't afford a motel room,” Lisa says.
“That's okay. I can sh-share my room with you.”
“But you're practically a stranger. I'm not sure I'd be okay with that,” Lisa argues. “I think I'll just stand at the side of the road and see if someone else comes along.”
Timuthy points at the gauntlet of rain pounding his windshield. “You're going to hitchhike? In the pouring rain?”
“I guess,” Lisa answers with a shrug. “What other choice do I have?”
“You could spend the night with me and we can head out tomorrow,” Timuthy suggests. “I'll even let you have the bed.”
Once again, I can hear Lisa's thoughts. She keeps thinking about Timuthy's poor driving skills, and like me, she thinks the motel looks sketchy.
“Maybe... I can try to find another driver, and if I can't, you'll let me come back?” She gives him a cheesy, hopeful grin.
“I guess you could do that.” Timuthy reaches into his glove compartment and pulls out a small, black umbrella. “You should protect yourself from the rain, though. I wouldn't want you to get drenched.”
Lisa stays with Timuthy while he checks into the motel. Once she knows he's in Room 16, she heads out, umbrella in hand, and stands at the side of the road.
While Lisa waits for passing cars, I have a one-sided chat with her. “This is so dangerous, girl. You must really love your grandma if you're willing to hitchhike through a bunch of states to get to her.” After a moment of self-reflection, I add, “I understand, though. If my grandpa was sick... and if I was still alive, of course... I would have done anything to get back to him.”
Lisa heaves a whiny sigh that reminds me of a whimpering dog.
“What happened to Oingo Boingo, by the way?” I ask, glancing at Timuthy's empty station wagon. “I don't see him in the car, so... I guess Timuthy smuggled him into the motel?”
Lisa is in the rain for less than a minute before we see our first vehicle. The semi-truck doesn't stop when he sees her protruding thumb—in fact, I think he picks up speed when he passes.
“Damn,” Lisa hisses. “I guess I'll be out here for awhile.”
Her prediction comes true. The next six cars pass without slowing, and five minutes later, Timuthy's umbrella is an ineffective defense against the deluge. Heavy wind blows the rain sideways, soaking Lisa's clothes.
She contemplates out loud, “Maybe I should just go back to Timuthy...”
“I wouldn't blame you if you did,” I reply, even though she can't hear me. “I know he's a bad driver and all, but this rain is ridiculous.”
Lisa must really hate Timuthy's driving, because she sticks it out a bit longer. The next vehicle we see is a white pick-up truck, and for some reason, my hackles are raised by the sight of it.
“Don't stick out your thumb,” I whisper to Lisa. “Just let them drive by, okay?”
Unfortunately, Lisa doesn't listen to me, and her thumb pops out. When the truck stops, I'm already glaring at the male rider and passenger. They look like trouble to me.
“Hey, are you heading north by any chance?” Lisa asks. “I need a ride.”
The driver says, “We're heading west, but for a pretty girl like you, we might be willing to change direction.”
The passenger adds, “If you show us your tits.”
Great. These rat-faced, sunken-cheeked youths are even worse than I thought they would be. Disgust pinches my stomach when they both start snickering at their toxic response.
“Drive on,” Lisa says. “I'm not interested.”
“What if we gave you ten dollars?” the driver asks, flashing a wad of money at the girl in the rain.
“Nope,” she replies, coolly and calmly. I have to admit, she's handling this a lot better than I would. “My integrity's worth more to me than that.”
“How about twenty dollars?” As the driver raises his offer, his crony's snickers get louder.
“I'm not a prostitute!” Lisa rages. “Can't you morons just drive on and leave me alone?”
“We're just having a bit of fun!” says the driver. He pops open his door, jumps down from the truck, and slinks closer to Lisa. His companion, who looks like a teenage boy, follows the older guy's lead. “Don't you have a sense of humor?”
“I do... when something is actually funny,” Lisa says. “You guys aren't funny. You guys are creeps.”
“Awww...” The rat-faced driver sticks out his bottom lip. “That's not very nice, darlin'! We're not creepy at all. I promise.”
Lisa raises her umbrella as both men advance on her. She warns them, “I will literally smack you with this umbrella if you come any closer. I'm serious.”
“Thirty dollars,” the driver says. “I'll give you thirty dollars in exchange for showing us a little skin. I'd say you're getting a good bargain.”
In the corner of my eye, I see Timuthy racing toward us. He doesn't look much like a hero, but he's better than nothing. “Hey!” he shouts. “How about you l-l-l-eave the girl alone?”
“H-H-How about you mind your own damn business?” Both jerks titter with laughter when the driver mocks Timuthy's stammer. I wish I could defend him, but all I can do is watch.
“You shouldn't treat a l-l-l-lady like this!” Timuthy says. I feel sorry for him. I think his stutter's gotten worse since the thugs showed up.
“I don't know what you're talking about. I am treating her nice,” the driver says. “I'm giving her a job opportunity.”
Lisa whispers, “Just ignore them, Timuthy,” but her would-be hero doesn't listen.
He gets in the driver's face and screams, “Leave her alone!”
I've got to give him some credit for being brave, but raising his voice at a much bigger man was a really bad idea. The driver knees Timuthy's groin, punches his head, and whistles for the younger guy to join him.
Timuthy tries to put up a fight, but he's clearly outmatched. Within seconds, the guys have him pinned to the ground and pummeled. When Lisa tries to defuse the fight, she's pushed aside by the younger guy. She lands on the pavement, palms down. Both of her hands are skinned from the fall.
I'm horrified right now, and I don't know what to do. I wish Sandalphon was here. I wish he never left me. I need him!
My desire to be reunited with Sander is so great, I'm transported to his location.
I'm suddenly in a cemetery, surrounded by dark, hissing creatures.