The Time Giver

May 7th: Arrival

The dark, unfamiliar landscape passing by the window no more interested Zach than the warm, unfamiliar woman driving the car he was in. Arms folded on his chest, he stared up at the cold, distant stars, happy to finally be seeing them after almost seven years of being locked up at night. For all he cared, that detention center could rot for keeping him there. From what he knew of that silly broadway show he'd heard about, he related to that prisoner guy; he was taken in for stealing food, but then they just kept him. In his, case, though, it wasn't because he was trying to escape.

They kept him because there was nowhere else for him to go.

The woman - what was her name, Kelly? - glanced over at him. "So, what kind of music do you like?" She placed her long fingers on the dial, glancing at him again for an answer.

Zach shrugged, sinking further into his seat without a word. It had been a while since he'd heard anything besides bluegrass. He used to listen to metal, but now, it was probably rare for the radio to play the songs he'd heard. Besides, he didn't really like heavy metal. For him, it had just been clatter to keep the sound of his arguing parents from his ears.

When he didn't answer, Kelly sighed, placing her hand back on the wheel. "It's only going to be for the summer. In three months, we'll be driving back to the center. I just need your help until then."

Three months. Zach groaned, leaning against the window. Three months was a long span of time in the detention center.

His thoughts were interrupted by a ringtone. The woman pulled a phone from the cup holder, and put it on speaker. "Kelly Chaparral here."

A strong, gruff voice rang out of the phone. "Hey Kelly, this is Mr. Barr. I was wondering if you would be willing to take in Vodka again?"

Zach looked sideways at Kelly as she laughed. "Sure, no problem. When do you wanna bring her in?" He scrunched his eyebrows as the voice said something about tomorrow morning. "Sure. I can slide her in. I always liked Vodka. See ya tomorrow." With that, she hung up, a small smile on her lips.

"What the hell was that?" Zach asked, scooting closer to the door. What kind of lunatic had he ended up with here? Who - or what - was Vodka?

Kelly laughed. "Sorry, I didn't have a lot of time to explain to you what it is I do back there. I train horses for people. Vodka is a mare Mr. Barr has brought in before."

Zach wrinkled his nose. "You work with big, stinky animals?"

"Well, they don't stink as much as your attitude, let me tell you that." Kelly shot him a little smile. "They really aren't that bad. They smell better than cattle, or pigs." Now it was her turn to scrunch up her nose. "Pigs really stink, and you never get rid of the smell. Also, please don't use foul language."

Zach turned back to the window, watching the trees roll past. He wasn't sure what to think of this woman. And he really didn't like using curse words; it had become habit in the crowd of the detention center. But now that he wasn't surrounded by delinquents, Zach felt like the words were a bit of a security blanket. It was one of the few familiar things he could keep for now.

"Here we are," Kelly said as she slowed down to pull onto a gravel road flanked by black fences. They drove past the fencing for some time, the dark wood only distinguishable from the night surroundings when they were in the headlights. The trees engulfed the road, forming a small tunnel, and Zach felt like he had left the safety of the city a thousand miles back by the time a light came into view between the trees.

As they followed the light around the bend, Zach saw a small, quaint house illuminated by a single lamp mounted on an electric pole. Nestled between two oak trees, it seemed too tiny compared to the immaculate building that dominated the open area. That must be the barn, he mused as the driveway wound closer. Now, in the eerie glow of the mercury light, he could see the windows that dotted the side facing him. Even as the compact SUV passed, many of them became distorted as shadowy figures thrust their heads into the night air.