Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 46 - Disconnect

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART THREE :: Cast Your Armor Down

Chapter 46 - Disconnect

Ally jumped off the hood of the last vehicle, landing on the ground in a crouch. Glancing up, she noticed that there was a quick break in traffic in front of her. Standing to her feet quickly, she ran across the three lanes before her chance could disappear.

As expected, the cars closed back around the opening they had created a moment later, blocking off her brother's route to her. Now, Ally looked around wildly, trying to find a way to get off the highway before her brother could find a way to get through. Seeing a red truck coming her way, she started to wave wildly in an attempt to gain the driver's attention. She needed a ride and she needed a ride quickly.

The young man driving the truck slowed down, rolling down his passenger window. "Where are you going?" he yelled, leaning towards the window as he looked her up and down.

"Anywhere, just get me out of here."

He nodded to the passenger side door, hitting the unlock button. "Get in."

Ally didn't hesitate, grabbing the door handle and pulling herself up into the truck. Slamming her door closed, she glanced over his shoulder to look out the window on his side. Her brother was already leaving the mass of parked vehicles and starting to force his way through traffic. Grabbing the seat belt beside her and latching it quickly, she commanded, "Drive."

With only one more glance into the direction of his new passenger's unwavering gaze, the man put his truck into drive and took off with a screech of the tires. She turned in her seat, watching as her brother finally made his way across the highway. He was looking around with confusion and frustration clear on his face. He hadn't spotted her.

Ally leaned back in her seat, letting her head fall back to rest on the headrest before breathing out a sigh of relief. The guy stole a quick glance at her, probably wondering about what he had just witnessed, but left her alone nonetheless. As she closed her eyes, she faintly heard the radio turn on to play country lightly in the background. With the music playing softly in her ear and the slight vibration of the tires rolling across the blacktop, Ally drifted into a state of conscious unawareness. Her eyes remained open but she comprehended nothing, instead staring unseeingly out of the window.

She shook herself from the condition a few hours later with a start, sitting up straighter in her seat. They had stopped at a rest stop along the highway. "What are we doing here?"

The guy leaned across her slightly as he reached for the glove compartment, pulling out a first aid kit and handing it to her. "I thought you might want to tend to those cuts."

Ally nodded and reached for the door handle but paused when he stopped her, reaching into the backseat. "What are y-"

"Your clothes are covered in blood," he explained quickly, handing her a t-shirt and a pair of boxers to change into. Glancing down at her pants, Ally saw that her shirt was, in fact, ruined but her black skinny jeans appeared to be in decent condition. They had managed to survive the ordeal rip free and they showed no signs of blood stains against the dark fabric.

As such, Ally gladly handed him the boxers back, picking up the shirt in the same hand as the first aid kit. She gave him a small smile in thanks, stepping out of the truck. However, she had to rest her hand against the side of the vehicle for a second, attempting to regain her balance. Uncomfortable tingles raced up her legs as the blood rushed back to them and Ally gritted her teeth as she forced herself to take a single step forward. A groan of discomfort escaped her when the feeling of ants scrambling under her skin intensified in strength.