That One Ride

10. The Envelope

Her feet hurt. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung. She needed to hide. She needed to hide. Anywhere. Somewhere. The file that was inside of her jacket felt like it weighed a ton. With every exhale, she felt it move, the paper rustling, probably crumpling a bit. She cursed, asking herself why the hell did she park so far away. She heard deep voices behind her, voices she knew well, trying to figure out which way did she go. She couldn't be caught now. Not when she was so close to being rid of this. This thing. This hell. This life. Everything was on that piece of paper. Her way out. His way out. Their way out. She crawled under the cut wires of the fence, making a run for her bike. The voices didn't seem to be so close anymore. But she didn't slow down. She couldn't risk it. The sight of her bike brought great relief.

She mounted, turning the engine on and zooming away. She drove at top speed, checking over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure she wasn't followed. She drove for a good half hour, before she felt she was far enough away to turn on her headlights. She took the long way back, letting her body relax and calm down. She stopped by the first gas station, going over to the payphone, pushing the numbers he told her to call. After two rings, he picked up.

"Hey." She said.

"Hey. How was sightseeing?" he asked, and she chuckled.

"Beautiful."

"Did you have fun?" he asked, and she heard his dog bark on the other side.

"Yeah, I did." She said, her legs deciding at that moment to twinge uncomfortably.

"Did you take any pictures?" he said it a bit more serious, but didn't lose that easy going tone.

She felt the weight of the paper inside her jacket. "Yes. Pretty good ones too." She could practically see his smile on the other line.

"That's good. Although I'm a bit curious as to what those will look like." He said, seriously teasing her this time.

"Don't worry, they're not that horrendous. I think you'll really like them." She said, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she heard something.

"I'll take your word then. I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, and she swore she saw something move.

"Yeah. Same place, same time." She replied, getting ready to sprint to her bike. Thank God she didn't take her hood off.

"Okay. Night Heather." He said.

"Night Hunter." she replied, hanging up. She opened the door, walking fast to her bike.

She mounted her bike, turning the engine on again. Just as she was about to move, someone put a hand over her mouth. Cold, hard fear dropped into the pit of her stomach. But, in a fraction of a second, it was replaced by determination and anger. Whoever it was, they were going to pay for interrupting. She elbowed the guy in the gut, making him let go. She turned around, punching him square in the face, making him fall to the ground. The way he was holding his face and the angle of the light, or lack of it, prevented her from seeing it clearly. But there was something familiar about that face. For a second she feared she had attacked one of the guys who was chasing her earlier. Her fear was unnecessary when she saw his face. Oh, her fear was irrelevant compared to the terror that took its place.

"Dean?" she asked, but she didn't have to. No one else had that maniac expression after being punched in the face. "What are you doing? I could have killed you!" she said, offering him a hand, the other pulling back from the handle of the gun that was tucked under her belt. He declined the hand, standing up on his own.

"I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in the middle of nowhere at this hour?" there was a shred of sibling compassion in his voice, but it was covered with suspicion. She rolled her eyes, trying to shove away the terror.