Moose and Goose

Chapter Forty-seven

She's cruising in the passenger seat with him through town. The windows are down, inviting the night air in and out. It dances around her head, fluffing her afro and whistling in her ears.

The sky is dark around each cluster of stars, and they pass building after building so tall that they shield the moon from her line of sight.

"It was a surprise seeing you at the bus stop," he says with a smile, and Judith breaks away from the scenery to look at him. She nods. "What were you doing out this late at night anyway, Miss. Twelve-year-old?"

"Looking for drugs," she confesses when he chuckles. His smile gradually fades at her answer, and the lingering twinge of hope leaves when he looks into her earnest eyes. She pulls her lips into a straight line and nods again. "Yeah, uh, my life sucks right now, and it's hard staying sane and sober when everything around you just -"

He repeatedly glances at her and the road. She hangs her head and picks at the skin under her left thumbnail.

"You sound melancholic." Judith scoffs, and tears lift onto the brims of her eyes.

"A girl's ready to end her life with pills or whatever money can buy, and that's the conclusion you draw?" She leans back in her seat and mumbles, "And fools pay money for someone to say this same shit."

He doesn't respond, and she remains silent as well. The short-haired man licks his lips and reaches across her. She clinches her teeth together, sucking in air between the gaps, watching him open his glovebox.

A bright orange light flickers on when the door leans open, and it shines onto a black handgun and a small baggie of white powder.

"Normally, this stuff'll run you maybe five hundred," he says while returning behind the wheel, placing his right hand at two o'clock. "But since you're desperate - and sad - I'll give it to you for thirty bucks."

Who is he?

"What're you, a cop?" Judith nervously chuckles at her question, but he doesn't even crack a smile. The man looks in the rearview, then at the road, and following his gaze, she notices trees surrounding them. "What's your name? Where are we?"

"We're still in Florence, don't fret," he assures her. She whips her head to her door and sighs from relief when she sees the pin's lifted; it's not locked. "Do you have the money?"

Judith looks ahead as he veers onto a dirt path, inching away from trees. She frantically lies, "I don't really do drugs. I just left to clear my head so pay no mind to what I said before."

Oh, my God.

News articles of Donald - Pee Wee - Gaskins Jr flash before her eyes, and he stops the car at the edge of a ridge guarded by chestnut-colored fences. She sits her hands at her sides and lightly pats her pockets with her thumbs, hoping for a weapon.

She'd left the knife in the top drawer of her dresser, and her heart practically falls into her stomach at the realization.

He turns the key and shuts the engine off, leaving it hanging out of the ignition. He's silent, almost menacingly quiet, and Judith feels a lump cramming into her throat.

"So, yes or no," he calmly asks. She looks ahead, taking shaky breaths that whistle in and out of her open mouth.

"I - I don't have," she stops herself as he leans across her again, yelping from the sudden motion. He snatches the black pistol from under the warm light, and as he returns his back to the seat, he sighs. Her eyes are glued to the glass, tears trailing down her lashes and cheeks.

I'm gonna die.

That thought repeats in her head, leaving no room for another, and her body stiffens as if she is dead.