I Wish I Had a Story to Tell You

Part IV

"This is a bad idea."
    "That's nothing new," I said to my sister, putting the car into reverse.
    "Yeah, but this is a whole new level of insane."
Welcome to my life. I turned back to make sure we didn't fly into the trees behind us. "I hope nobody notices us. I think everyone's more focused on that, though" I said, pointing to the train, which was steaming and making a strange noise. The passengers huddled together. Some shouted. Little kids cried. Most, however, complained. The complaining was louder than the night wind, with the incessant, whining voices ringing in our ears.
Arelle leaned back in the passenger seat. "I mean, at least we don't have to deal with the train. We can just go back and start again, and maybe get it right this time."
I considered for a moment. "No," I said. "We need more to go on. We have the car, Aunt Pearl might've left something."
"But someone took the car," Arelle pointed out.
My sister had a fairer point than she might've realized. Con had the car, after all. However, I did know one thing from my time in Bellevue: Con never bothered erasing his finger prints. He was stupid enough to think that he could never get caught, and he always instigated a good chase. Con may have been ruthless, but he was also reckless. Con didn't care about the technicalities of a crime. He just took what he wanted and left. Everyone knew when something was done by Con, even his parents. I wasn't dealing with a high class criminal. I was dealing with an idiotic, heartless kid. No one ever bothered looking for Con's fingerprints, but I could try. Con had small hands, while Aunt Pearl had larger ones. The only thing was that Con's hands were the same size as Arelle's.
I opened the compartment underneath the dash. "Arelle, you wouldn't happen to have gloves, would you?"
"Right here." Arelle handed me a pair of winter gloves lying in the back seat. "What are they for?"
"I need to find out what Aunt Pearl touched, and what she didn't. Do you have any dusting powder?"
"Sorry?"
I put the gloves on carefully. "Like you know, the stuff that uncovers finger prints? I know there's a brand that started selling some fingerprint powder last year."
"Well, no."
"Hm. Well, it looks like you'll have to just tell me what looks right and what looks wrong. First," I held up a pamphlet from the old apartment, "is this right?"
"No, we never lived there. Yes, Detective, it's right." Arelle sighed and took the pamphlet from me. "What else is in there?"
I pulled out a hair comb, a pouch of bandages, hair pins, and a hat. I inspected the comb, which was plain and unassuming; the tag within the pouch of bandages, which was pretty normal; and then there was the hat. It was a maroon color, with a popular low hanging front visor and a ribbon wrapped around the base of the top. It was a smart, sensible accessory.
    "Is this Aunt Pearl's?"
    "Mhm. Aunt Pearl just got it a few days ago from somewhere. She brought it home after a job interview."
    "It certainly looks new," I said, observing the specimen. I checked the tag. "It's from a little shop. Helen's." Then something caught my eye. "Hm."
    "What is it?" Arelle asked.
    "It's from Colorado. See," I said, pointing to the tag in the interior of the hat, "It seems to have been made in Denver. Did Aunt Pearl receive this in the post?"
    "Come to think of it, I did see her discarding a box. It must've been sent through the post." Arelle leaned over my shoulder, looking at the hat.
    "Did Aunt Pearl have any friends in Denver?"
    "All of her friends lived in Oregon or Washington, I think. I've never heard her say anything about Denver. You aren't saying-"
    I turned the accessory in my hands. "Maybe she has a lover there. Did she receive anything else?"
    Arelle considered for a moment. "Yes," she said finally, "she got a dress in the mail a couple of months ago." She takes the hat from me and looks it over. "This is definitely the one she got in the post."
    I took off the gloves and places them into the compartment. "What did the dress look like?"
    "I can't remember," Arelle said. "I lose track of which dress is which."
    "Alright, well," I looked at the rows of trees in front of us. "Just sitting here won't help. Let's find someplace to stop, like a diner or something. Getting back to civilization is a good starting place, because right now, I have no clue where we are."
    "Yes," Arelle sighed, "that's a start."
    "Great." I jammed the key into the lock and started the engine. I placed my foot on the gas, and focused my eyes straight ahead.
    "What are you doing?"   
    I spotted a gap between the trees and proceeded to let my foot press down on the pedal. "Driving," I said, and then we were off.
    Arelle yelped as I plunged us deep into the forest. Snow began to fall faster, and I strengthened my grip on the wheel. A giant shadow swooped down in front of us, causing Arelle do shriek. The owl dove into the nearest tree, a shadow watching us fly towards nowhere in the bitter winter.
    "Trees!" Arelle yelled, clinging to her seat for dear life.
    "I see them," I replied. Quite pretty, aren't they? But then I soon realized what my sister meant. The gap between the trees started to lessen. This could only mean one thing.
    It's time for a good old game of Dodge the Tree and Try Not to Die.
    I trained my eyes on the road (or lack there of), and began dodging trees left and right. I felt the speed pick up as I flew in between the trunks almost recklessly. I suppressed a grin. Now this feels right. The speed. The not knowing where to go next, just that you're heading somewhere and there's no turning back.
    "For heaven's sake, slow down!"
    "Right, sorry," I said, and released some of the pressure I was putting on the pedal. I hope she doesn't start wondering how I learned to drive and dodge trees. "We haven't died yet."
"Yet," Arelle said, trembling.
    "I'm going fast so we can get out of here before the snow piles up. I'm following the train tracks. That should get us back to where we need to be going," I reasoned.
    "Do you even know where we need to be going?" Arelle released her seat a little bit.
    "Yes, I've narrowed it down to civilization."
    Arelle suddenly grasped the dashboard. "Bird!"
    I looked up and narrowly avoided hitting an owl, this one smaller than the other one I had seen. Then I realized that I had swerved right into the path of a giant tree. I bit my lip shut to keep from swearing in front of my sister, and jolted the car to the left. The snow began to fall faster, which did not help my vision.
Come on, don't let us be stuck here. "We can't be far."
    "But we can be."
    Then I noticed a light from somewhere beyond the trees. Then another light, and another. "But we aren't far. Look, Arelle."

    I can only imagine the sight the owner of the diner saw when we broke free from the forest. A snow covered car flying out from the trees, with an idiot at the wheel and her singular brain cell sitting in the passenger seat.
    I found a little road, and though it was snow covered, it was free of trees. Arelle sighed a sigh of relief that made her look a bit like a deflating balloon. Then she laughed. "We won."
    I put the car in park. "What?"
    "The trees tried to kill us, but they didn't, so we won."
    "That's always fun. Come on, let's go inside." Arelle and I each got out, and observed the damage done to our poor 1932 Ford V-8. Luckily, she just endured a bit of snow on the roof and a few broken branches that fell onto her while I was dodging trees. We wiped some snow and branches off of our vehicle, and then went to the diner.
    "Warmth," Arelle sighed, relishing the relief from the cold.
    "Can I help you?" a young waitress asked. "It's certainly late for the two of you to be out."
    "Do you have a map anywhere?" I asked.
    "Huh. Let me check in my desk in the back. Just a moment."  The waitress returned with a paper map and handed it to Arelle. "That it for you girls?"
    "I think so," I said, thinking of how we would need to spend our money sparingly.
    "Actually, you wouldn't happen to have water, would you?" Arelle asked.
    "Of course we have water, hon." The waitress sat us down at a table and brought us two glasses of water. "Anything else?"
"That's it," Arelle said. The waitress left us, and I began to study the map.
"We are in Redding, California," I said. "So we have gone a little ways from home."
Arelle took a sip of water. "I just don't know where we can start. I still think we should go back to Portland. It can't be that long of a drive."
"Denver is also an option," I pointed out. "Or Bellevue. We may be able to find contacts there." Or Con.
I had my doubts, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Con was right behind us. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was something more.
"Wait!" Arelle exclaimed, taking the map from me.
"What?"
"Miss, do you have a pen?"
The waitress came over quickly. "Sure I do. Here you go. I always carry one on me." With a smile, she produced a pen from her pocket and handed it to Arelle. My sister thanked the waitress, who then returned to the counter to do some sort of paperwork.
Then, without a sound, my sister began sketching on the backside of the map. Soon I realized that it was a dress.
"I remember what it looked like. This," Arelle slid the map towards me, "is the dress Aunt Pearl received in the mail."
I studied closely. It looked a bit different than what our aunt usually wore. It had the same sort of collar, but something was off. "The waistline."
"What about it?"
I point to the sketch. "The dress has a straight silhouette. All of Aunt Pearl's clothes have a high waistline. This one has an extremely low waistline, and it's much looser than all of her clothes. This looks like a dress is one of Mom's old magazines. It had to have been made in the twenties, at least ten years ago or so."
"Who would send her an old dress?" Arelle asked.
I thought for a moment. Then it dawned on me. "How large was the dress?"
"It seemed to have a shorter skirt, why?"
"Did it look old?"
"I barely saw the dress," Arelle said. "It wasn't super new looking, though."
"Arelle, this could've been from someone who knew her in high school," I said. "Think of who would have access to one of Aunt Pearl's old dresses."
"Mom."
I grinned. "Exactly."
Arelle's jaw hung open slightly. "You don't think-"
"How does going to Denver sound?"

Thanks for reading! If you would like a good story to read, check out AshLikesCats for a really cool post-apocalyptic story. It's called When the World Stopped. Hope you all are doing well! Feel free to give some feedback or constructive criticism on my little writing adventure, or just what you want to see next.

-Nova