I Am Chosen

Red Asphalt

It was Kacey's day off.

Nevertheless, she was on call, and had to be ready to report in on a moment's notice. Which meant no drinking and no trips outside the city limits.

Not like she had anywhere to go anyway.

Sitting in her apartment obsessing over the Chosen case was getting her nowhere, so she decided to head out to the Safeway and restock her criminally depleted fridge.

She opted for the healthy stuff, like Rocky Road. It did have nuts, after all. The rest of her cart was filled with chips, Cup O Noodle soup, various cheeses, garlic stuffed olives, a bottle of cheap merlot and beef jerky. All the essentials.

Perusing the remaining ice creams in the refrigerated aisle, Kacey wasn't looking when her cart cleared the end cap and smashed into another cart coming in from the side.

"Oh, sorry about-" she started to say as she walked around the side of her cart, pausing when she saw who it was she had run into: her younger brother. "That," she finished.

He looked pissed. But then, J.D. had been angry for as long as she could remember. It started with his name-James Dean. Yeah, thanks Mom and Dad. When he got teased in school and tried to switch his first name to Jimmy, it was a spectacular failure. Being called "sausage boy" did nothing to brighten his outlook.

And so eventually he took the name J.D. He still hated it, but it had kept the teasing to a minimum.

"Never know who you'll run into in this town," Kacey offered lamely.

"Folks here run into each other all the time," J.D. responded evenly. "Not like the big city."

Ouch. The two of them just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Despite being her younger brother, J.D. appeared older; world-weary. The last few years had aged him.

She looked down at his cart: pasta, tomatoes, onions, garlic, French bread, some spices.

"When did you become a gourmet chef?" she asked.

"While you were busy," J.D. replied. Another slap to the face. Seeming to realize how tough he was being, he softened slightly. "I'm having someone over later and wanted to prepare a nice meal."

"A female someone?" Maybe if she could just get him talking...

"Just a friend. I should get going..."

Okay, maybe not. J.D. steered his cart around Kacey's. She considered just letting him go, then decided to try: "Maybe you and I could grab lunch or dinner some time. We could go out, no cooking required."

J.D. was already to the next aisle. He stopped only briefly to turn his head, then continued walking.

Kacey sighed. So much for mending fences. For now, at least.

In her three years at Taco Time, Jenny Simms had done just about everything-washing, food prep and assembly, registers... Of all the different jobs though, working drive-through was her fave. She got to interact with people, which was something she enjoyed. Usually the same customers came through day after day and she had gotten to know most of them. Plus, aside from the breakfast and lunch rushes, it was usually pretty slow. Which gave her time to think about the future.

Lately she had been given more hours. She shouldered the increased workload proudly, reasoning that if management felt she was competent enough to handle it, she might stand a chance at being promoted to shift lead.

And if that happened, the extra money could be enough for her to move out of the house. Independence! How wonderful would that be? No more of that "you live under our roof you'll follow our rules" crap. She could go to college on her own terms. If mom and dad wanted to pitch in, great. If not, whatever, she'd do it on her own. It would take a lot of time and hard work-being a marine biologist wasn't easy-but she was determined. She had a plan.

And having a plan was the first step on a path to success. At least that was what that guy on late-night TV said.

Just then the bell rang in her headset letting her know a vehicle had pulled up to the speaker. She hit the talk button.

"Welcome to Taco Time this is Jenny how can I help you today?"

"Heya Jenny I'll have my usual." She didn't have to look at the camera monitor to know that the voice coming through her headset belonged to Tom Brole, a dispatcher for Dupin Trucking. He always took his lunch late. Jenny glanced at her watch. Yep, it was almost one thirty.

"One crispy taco meal comin' up. That'll be--"

"I know how much. And I have exact change. As usual."

Jenny smiled and punched in the order. To her left, Bobby Collier began food prep as Tom pulled up to the window. He was a bear of a man, thick and hairy but nice as could be. "How's the wife?" Jenny asked as she leaned out to take Tom's money. He drove a Tacoma which sat at the same height as her window, but this time he had pulled up far enough away that she had to stretch a bit.

"Hasn't left me yet," Tom replied. "One can always hope, though."

"You're terrible!" Jenny said, taking his money and depositing it into the register. Tom chuckled. Jenny filled a large Coke, grabbed a straw and leaned back out, holding the drink and straw for Tom to take. "Work treating you okay?" she asked.

Tom was smiling as he reached out to take the drink, but as his large, meaty right hand locked around Jenny's wrist instead of grabbing the drink, his smile fell. And his eyes... there was something about Tom's eyes. They just went blank.

"I am chosen," Tom said.

He yanked and Jenny screamed, reflexively squeezing the cup, spewing soda everywhere as she was jerked halfway out the window. With his left hand Tom grabbed her by the hair. Jenny was only vaguely aware of her own wailing as the truck lurched forward. Something in Jenny's lower back snapped. Her legs went numb as the lower half of her body was dragged outside. Her left shoulder scraped for several feet against the wall before her lower half hit the handrail at the walkway to the side door. She rebounded, smacking into the side of Tom's Tacoma, but his grip on her wrist and hair never loosened.

The truck shot on, jumping the curb at the drive through exit. Though she had lost feeling from the waist down, a terrified glance showed Jenny that her heels were dragging on the blacktop of the parking lot. One of her shoes flew off. Tom finally let go; the Tacoma veered away as her body hit the pavement, rolling side over side before coming to a rest. She was on her stomach, her left cheek pressed against the asphalt. Some small, detached part of her brain registered that she was still holding the crumpled soda cup straight out to her right side.

Hyperventilating, in a state of shock, Jenny was still reeling, tears blurring her vision as she heard the screeching of tires.

Her eyes cleared just enough to see the Tacoma's reverse lights, its furiously spinning right wheel speeding toward her face.

That blur of tread was the last thing Jenny ever saw.

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Yes, I'm demented. The inspiration for this scene came to me at--you guessed it--a drive through. Try not to think about this on your next run to Jack in the Box. See you all next week!