Survival

•Ten•

^Carren^

Half-way there, he pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and read through the files. A soft knock on the window of his car got his attention. Outside in the blazing heat of the desert, was a young girl around the age of fourteen.

Arlo quickly closed the file and put it down by his feet. He then rolled down the window and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Can I have a ride, Mister?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of busy, but I might be able to, depending on where you want to go."

"Anywhere accept for here." She replied shortly. The girl pranced around to the other side of the car and hopped in.

Arlo looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Um, excuse me?"

"You're excused." She brushed her unruly hair out of her face and put her dirty boots on the dash of the car.

"Get your feet down. Now." Arlo commanded shortly.

She shuffled them off, "Sorry." She muttered, "Where we headed?"

"I'll take you a few blocks down, then drop you off. I don't have time for anything else." Arlo stuck the key in the ignition, and started the car. He pulled out of the gas station and drove in the opposite direction he was supposed to go.

"So what's your name? Mine's Carren."

Arlo thought quickly. He didn't want to give her his true name in case his real name made it in the news. "My name's John." Then, as an after thought, he asked, "Why did you need a ride?"

"Cause I can't drive. Obviously." Carren stated it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I mean, why do you need to to get away from the gas station?" He asked, getting thoroughly annoyed at the girl already. He pulled into another parking lot of a bank, trying to find a parking space.

"I ain't going back."

"Actually, I can leave you here. It was my own free will that I brought you this far. I'm not going to say this nicely again. Get. Out. Now," he said irritably.

She crossed her arms stubbornly. "You're a meanie, mister," she grumbled.

"Whatever. Now get out," Arlo said carelessly.

"But they'll find me!" She whined, "Please take me with you!"

Arlo looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Who will find you?" he asked, his curiosity peaked.

Carren hesitated, but eventually decided to speak. "My...uncle," She whispered.

"Who's your uncle?"

"Excuse me? Are you some creeper or something?" Carren demanded, the quiet demeanor quickly disappearing, "You don't know him!"

"I might. What's his name?" Arlo said, threateningly quiet. Carren's eyes widened as his appearance darkened. She turned around and hurriedly fiddled with the car handle, trying to get out.

Arlo reached beside him and locked the car doors before speaking in an ominous tone, "I won't ask this again before I do something rather unpleasant to you. What is your uncle's name?"

Realizing she couldn't get out, Carren turned back to Arlo and placed her back on the door, trying to be as far away from him as possible, "I'm sorry, Mister. Please don't kill me!" She cried.

Arlo narrowed his eyes. "I might, unless you tell me your uncle's name." He leaned closer and put his hand around the back of her neck.

She sniffled once and nodded, "His n-name is Gerett."