She Drove a Cadillac - A Supernatural Fanfiction

Four - Passing Through

"We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us."
~ Ken Levine

The radio boomed AC/DC as Jane sped down old country backroads, her aviators slipping down the bridge of her nose as she reached into the glove compartment of the Cadillac, pulling out her cellphone. She glanced at the road and carefully lessened the gas as she took her hands off the steering wheel, grabbing the sides of her flip-phone and cracking it in two. Then, rolling down her window, she chucked the pieces out onto the road. She was not going to waste all of her effort in escape only to have her phone traced.

The act made her feel a little more free, but true feelings of freedom hadn't settled on her quite yet. Jane was aware of her family's connections and abilities, and the reality was that she was still in dangerous territory for at least the next hundred miles.

"I. Am. Free." The words felt invigorating, no matter how much of an overstatement they currently were. She passed a sign marking the state line of rural Massachusetts. Where she was going, she wasn't sure, but she would continue to drive in the same direction until she reached an ocean. The farther the better. It was only 4:00 in the morning, only an hour since her escape, and yet she felt natural on the road, like she always had been.

She watched as the trees lining the road began to change with each passing mile, the sun had breaching the skyline by 6:00, and Jane began to wonder when she would come across civilization again. White noise filled the car as she grew further and further away from the Massachusetts area radio towers. She searched for a new station before coming to one that was all about Classic Rock, especially Boston and Journey. Jane sighed, recognizing the guitar solo of "More Than a Feeling" that blasted through the speakers.

Just as the music became completely clear, Jane noticed a couple of mail boxes on the side of the road.

"Finally, civilization," she said with a sigh of relief. She licked her lips. She was starving, and houses meant that there must be a town close by, or at least a gas station or market.

Jane had already made it halfway through the back-country of Connecticut, a surprisingly extensive part of the state, by 8:00 am. In the distance, she saw a sign that read "Cafe" in big yellow letters. It was a small, one-story building with a flat roof and an outdoor counter for seating. Only three cars were in the gravel parking lot. Two men sat on the stools at the counter, drinking what appeared to be lemonade. They wore sleek dark suits and one of them had dark shades on. Hunched over the counter top, they appeared to be whispering to one another. Jane sat in her car, watching them quietly as she parked. There seemed to be seating inside, which was a relief, but no matter what, she would have to pass them, and they didn't seem like the friendly type.

As one of them turned his body more toward his buddy, he revealed the inside lining of his jacket, and a glint of something shiny caught Jane's eye. Her eyes widened in realization as the man turned back to the waitress who had brought them their burgers, the large hunting knife once again concealed from sight. Shit, that can't be good.

Hastily, Jane reached behind her to the back seat, digging around in her bag for her Taurus PT940 with a dark Redwood accent on the grip, a gift from her brother before...before everything started to fall apart. She checked the magazine. Fully loaded. Leaning forward and tucking it into the back of her jeans, hiding it with her jacket, she got out of the car and walked in full stride to the front door, planning to go in, order, and leave without attracting too much attention.

She felt two pairs of eyes acknowledge her as she went inside. There was a family of four dressed in vacation-ware—t-shirts, shorts, fanny packs, bucket hats—which would explain the blue minivan with a luggage rack on top out front. The parents laughed and talked as their two girls argued, tugging at each other's pigtails. Jane sat by the door, picking up a menu and flagging over the waitress.