Hitchhikers (Wolf Point #1)

-38-

Early morning sunlight is filtering through the soaped-over windows of the warehouse when I come to, stiff from the cement floor. I rub my cheek. How did I get on the floor? Behind me the chair is smashed into splinters and there is no trace of the rope.

Lila is not here. Nor is Kayla. I sit up, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. A violent shiver passes through my body.

I'm alone.

Around me are prints in the dusty floor. Paw prints from Lila, shoe prints from me. And footprints. Bare footprints.

I'm not sure how long I sit there staring

see what is in front of your eyes

when someone enters the warehouse.

Senses alert, I determine that this is not Lila

(or Kayla)

but someone else, human. Female. There is another room to this warehouse, and this is where she enters. Her footsteps on the concrete do not hesitate. She has been here before, many times. She closes the door behind her and scrapes a heavy object in front of it. Her high heels click along. Things are moving.

I could sit here in this dusty room where she must not come very often, hidden. I could keep her safe from my Other, the killer side of me. And yet...

After last night I feel like a barrier has broken. I stand, brush the dirt off my pants. Then I walk to the door separating me from this person, and push it open.

There is a gun pointed at my face.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demands.

I stare at the round hole in the little black 9mm. Just last night I wanted to kill myself. A bullet to the head would just about do it. I close my eyes.

"I asked you a question," the girl demands. "Come on. I'm not gonna shoot you. Just don't attack me or make any sudden moves or anything, okay?"

I open my eyes. The black hole is gone, replaced by the face of a young girl – about my age. She has bleached blonde hair sprayed into a poufy mess, and garishly bright make up. My eyes are drawn down to her outfit, which is awfully revealing for such cold weather. A mini skirt and a tube top, boots with spiky heels.

"Why don't you take a picture," she says.

My gaze drifts to the floor. "Sorry."

"Hey, whatever. I'm used to it." She puts the gun into a little plastic purse, bright purple, and sits down on a mattress in the corner to pull off her boots. I get a nice view up her skirt and I turn my whole body away, my face turning hot.

"You don't have to be shy. You're squatting here, right? Me too." The boots come off and land in a heap on the floor. She stretches her toes and the joints snap and crackle. "Not much of a talker, huh?"

"Sorry," I say again.

"I'm Candi," she tells me. "What's your name?"

"Dan."

"You got anything to eat?"

"No."

"Any money?"

I think about the pocket change in my backpack. "Nope."

"None at all?"

"Uh, a dollar and some change. Does that make a difference?"

She screws up her face. "You really don't have any money."

Pulling some blankets over her, she lies down on the mattress. I don't know how long that mattress has been out here, but it stinks. Although it looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than the cement floor.

"Yeah, so, I'm gonna sleep now." She closes her eyes. "I'd offer to share, but you're broke."

"Oh." It doesn't make much sense to me for a long time. Maybe because I'm still hungry and out of sorts from last night. Eventually I realize what she means, and start apologizing again.

"I–I'm sorry. I guess I'll take off then?" I say this quietly because she looks like she's sleeping. I've turned to go back into the other room to get my backpack when she speaks.

"You don't have to go."

I stop but don't look at her. I should leave. She'll just end up dead

like that little baby like all those others

if I don't. I should leave.

I don't leave.

I crawl into the space under the covers she makes for me, and I lie there in her cold embrace while she sleeps.