Shift

The Long Road

Scarlet's eyes fluttered open, her forehead resting against the cold window. She watched as the trees flew by, bare branches covered in icy armor, sparkling in the dull orange light of the rising sun. The quiet twang of a steel guitar drifted from the truck's speakers, and she could hear Adrian's low, rocky voice humming along. She sat up, stretching her neck and rubbing the numb, reddening spot on her forehead where it had been pressed against the window all night.

"Where are we?" Scarlet asked. She swallowed hard, her throat dry and stinging. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned.

"Rock Springs," Adrian replied. "Wyoming."

"Wow." Scarlet stretched her arms. "How long was I out?"

Adrian shrugged. "Like, seven hours. Guess you were tired." He turned slightly, grinning at her. "Want me to stop somewhere?"

"Yeah. I gotta pee."

A few minutes later, Adrian pulled off of the highway and into the parking lot of a rest stop. It was mostly empty, save for two semi-trucks parked in the back. In the center of the large, circular parking lot sat a tiny building adorned with neon signs. The small restaurant inside was open, and Scarlet could smell bacon and maple syrup as she climbed out of the truck.

"Mmm," Adrian said. He walked beside her as they headed toward the back of the building, following the arrows on the restroom signs. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until I smelled that frying pig."

"I'm starving," Scarlet replied.

"Should we stay and have breakfast?"

Scarlet nodded. "Pee first." She shoved through the heavy door to the ladies' room and rushed for the toilet. It was surprisingly clean, Scarlet thought, for a public restroom, though the thick stench of ammonia nearly made her lose her appetite. The fluorescent light above her head flickered and buzzed, and her head began to pound ever so slightly.

When she came out of the restroom, Adrian was there waiting for her. She hooked her arm through his as they entered the restaurant.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look a little pale."

"Just hungry."

They sat across from each other in a torn-up booth by the window and browsed the menu. When the waitress came, Scarlet and Adrian each ordered a cup of coffee and an ice water. Adrian asked for steak and eggs, with a side of whole-wheat toast, and Scarlet got the pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.

She stared down into her mug of coffee, black and greasy with flecks of grains floating on top. The dull pounding in her head was more irritating than painful, and she hoped the crappy coffee would help.

"So," she began, "how long until we're there?"

"A while," Adrian replied. He absently folded the paper placemat into an airplane. "We'll have to stop somewhere tonight and rest. But we'll get there in another day or so."

"Why stop?"

"Because I need to sleep, too," he said, "and there is no way I'm letting you drive my truck."

"What?" She smiled, tossing the balled-up paper from her straw at him. "You let Cameron drive it."

"That was different. I was bleeding out and borderline unconscious."

"I can arrange for that to happen again." She winked at him.

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You couldn't hurt me, you like me too much."

"You're probably right."

The waitress brought their food and they both tore into it, as if they hadn't eaten real food before. Scarlet tried to remember the last time she ate a legitimate meal as she shoveled forkfuls of pancake into her mouth. Over the last few days, all she'd had was a couple of weak sandwiches. Her stomach thanked her, though her head went on throbbing like a sore knee.