—SAVIOUR
Part 2
the driver!
🪓
The pursuit of waiting any moving vehicle is still blur in the window pane. Still none. A half an hour passes after, and the barn is now flickering with the remnants of its blaze, flying embers, the dark smoke dying down a little as the twilight perseveres.
After finding a small and rusted water pipe, Lisa washes her blooded hands, mimicking the act of washing a sin she willingly devoted. It might become her hobby as life might come back to her with another nuisance, and she wouldn't think twice if another person will try to fuck her up again. Drying her arms in the open air, she hears a rumble of a steady engine, and looks up as she sights one.
Headlights are already on. The pecan car is speeding in the straight distance like a falcon on the loose from its cage. When it's a good less hundred meters away, Lalisa raises her arms to wave, while her concern of the probability that she might be staying the night in a clear and wasted field of farm is somehow dissipating. She might consider this a miracle.
Just then, the vehicle slows down, answering her internal prayer that she is still visible considering the lack of street lamp post. It pulls over ahead of her, and she advances to greet the person behind the wheel.
The stranger pulls the hand break with force, as he lowers the window car, eyes immediately meeting Lisa's weary ones.
"Hey,"
Lalisa stares at the man's striking features, Greek nose and a hint of sharp eyes that changes when he gives Lisa a devious stare. He's handsome, like a character pulled out from a movie. The man waits for her to say something, do something besides just stand like there outside a scarecrow.
Leaning towards the car, Lisa places both of her elbows at the opened window, and preen at him with a smile that no one can say no to. "I need a ride, sir. And I was wondering if you are kind enough to take me to a nearest inn."
The stranger shifts in his leather seat, smirking as he tightens his grip at the steering wheel. "Sir?"
Lisa could tell the stranger wants to laugh at the given politeness.
The only fickle thing that is bothering Lisa as she talks to him is the way how the man's eyes were telling her something scheming, deep and odd, like his irises were a witness of the insanity that Lisa had guarded.
Yet, she pays it no mind.
"Yes, kind sir. Can you help me? I'll pa—"
He snickers, and looks in the short distance, cutting a glance at the burnt building in which he assumes to be a barn. Hot embers dying less hotter. He didn't say anything. The man just sends her a dark look before offering a half-smile.
"Get in, angel. I'm heading the same route as yours." He unlocks the other side of the door, beckoning Lisa to join him inside with certainty. "Consider it a free ride."
The deal went smoothly as she expected, but was not looking forward to be called with a foolish endearment to a person she just met. Lisa wants to scoff, but nonetheless just rolls her eyes as she pull the door open and slid inside his shotgun seat.
Pushing back the hand break, he starts to move the car, shift gears with practiced hands, as he keeps them going smoothly in the dark highway.
His comfortable gesture left Lisa in awe. She could never drive in such confident manner—her father never let her learn to drive, let alone touch a steering wheel.
Discarding her thought out of it, she observes the content of his wooden scented car instead. A hanging necklace was tangled in the rear-view mirror, it's already faded and probably an old accessory that gives him luck for the reason why he kept it.
Aside from that, there's nothing interesting to pay attention to. Lisa was so tempted to open his glove box but her train of thoughts were suddenly pulled to the matter she's been itching to ask.
"How old are you by the way?"
"Is that how you approach strangers first? By asking their age instead of their name?" The man says, keeping his eyes vigilant in the road as he should.
"It's my thing."
The man continues. "Hmm, well I guess people can always ask anything, right? It doesn't matter what or how you approach them."
"So, how old are you?" Lisa asks for another time, she can't stand not talking in a tedious time.
"30."
"What?" Lisa dumbfounds. "You look younger, like 25."
He laughs, wholeheartedly. "That's right."
"But you said you were 30."
"Then next time, drop the sir. You were hardly keeping your sarcasm away."
It seems like it. But Lalisa was just half acting. Her politeness has different phases, one moment she treat people like a king, and in a blink, she flashes them a dice with death. "Fine. Okay. I'm easy to talk to."
They took a detour, but Lisa trusts her guide as she doesn't have any grain of idea where they are now. The road signs were telling her that the next town is near, and there's nothing to worry too much.
"I can hardly believe you are willing to ask strangers for a ride in an empty road. I could be serial killer for all you know. You just don't know when you brought a devil in your collar." He says, hinting her a tone of warning.
"Yeah? And what if I am one?"
Lalisa glances at him. Calm but doubting as she waits for his response. Her mouth feels like it was suddenly full of sand.
"Well, I guess we both have nothing to be afraid of then."
