Chapter One
The road ahead of me resembles a work of art. Harsh headlights illuminate the slate gray street, decorated with staggered yellow stripes, and darkness blurs around the zone of light. The full moon is obscured by wispy gray clouds, made translucent by the moon's silvery glow. I must remember to keep my eyes on the road and not on the sky, which stretches up above like a black velvet sheet. The glinting green road signs tell me that I am entering Lincoln County, crossing the border between the known and the unknown for many suburban Oklahomans.
I know this land, though, better than I know the city where I live. Even in the dark, I can see the vague outlines of the unoccupied acres of land where I would play as a child, during my many excursions alone. I was a curious child, the sort that carried around a bag of jars in my backpack, just to collect specimens on the go. Dad knew from the very start that I would be the only scientist in the family.
The gentle hum of my tires against the pavement is too much like a lullaby, and I switch on my car stereo to keep me awake. The CD in my player tonight is a mix of my favorite artists, mostly the nasal droning of Nirvana. I sigh, roll down the window, and let the wind attack my hair to the tune of All Apologies.
The clock on the dash glows bright green, warning that the hour is late - 10:30PM, and with at least another half hour of driving to go. The rest is dirt roads and hillsides, though, as I remove myself from the monotony of the highway and bump along the snake-like roads that are completely unoccupied at this time of night.
It is late May, and the fresh scent of mowed grass teases my nose when I turn onto yet another unlit dirt road. In the distance, I see the homes of local farmers and ranchers, orange porch lights winking in the dark. The cool spring breeze is rapturous and I remember, not for the first time, that I am free.
I am free from the stress of finals, from the fear of being late for class, and especially free from the oppressive rants of my chauvinistic Comparative Religions professor - his skewed perceptions of women and their rights. He treated his classroom like a stage on which he could proliferate his wretched ideas on gender-based discrimination. Thinking about him makes me clutch the wheel until my knuckles are white. And then I recall how wonderful it felt to turn him in, to report his behavior to the head of his department. Serves him right.
I relax once more, allowing the clean country air to work its magic. The best smell in the world, to a girl who was raised on a farm, is manure. OK, maybe not manure, but definitely wet grass and dirt. The dirt in Oklahoma isn't like dirt everywhere else in the country, either. It's as red as Oklahoma politicians.
I feel a strong sense of loyalty to my backwards, Bible-toting state. The majority of the people here hate women, science, and free thought, but there are enough beautiful people to keep me here. One of those beautiful people is my father, Vance Mosely.
His beat-up red truck is parked on the gravel driveway, and I park directly behind it. My engine goes off with a whine and I shove the key into my jeans pocket. I do not have to lock my car, this far out into the boonies, but I do anyway. It's a habit, learned living on a college campus full of laptop-scavenging thieves. My first inclination is to run to the door and pound on it like a maniac until Dad answers, scoops me in his arms, and wishes me a happy birthday. I am stopped by the black canopy over my head, which reminds me that it is 11:00PM, well past my early-rising dad's bedtime.
The planter on the porch barely conceals the spare house key. I kneel, claim the rusty old key, and jiggle it into the lock. It takes a special sort of talent to get the door open. Even a robber would become frustrated and leave empty handed. I am a pro at it, and still I end up wiggling the knob for a surplus of five minutes. Moths flutter around my head as the porch light clicks on, five minutes late, and provides the light I need to see. The key sinks in, turns, and the door creaks open.
YOU ARE READING
My Strange Destiny
RomanceI'm Karina - a headstrong scientist/feminist who lives in the heart of America, the Great Plains. My life is average... oh, except for the part where I'm mated to a surly, seven-foot-tall alien who wants nothing to do with me. Needless to say, I'm n...