Hot Springs Horror #NaNoWriMo2020

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Staring at the vast expanse of absolute nothing on either side of me, I set my fists on my hips. "This is so fucking cliche."

"Oh, you think?" Millie grunted as she inspected the tire—or what was left of it—her knees scraping on the hot gravel. Her black and auburn locks stuck to her face, that was red with heat and anger and possibly a pinch of humor. She was the type to laugh at such a situation.

An hour before, we'd been debating religion and politics while laughing about our past sexual escapades, imagining our delight at dipping our toes into the hot springs and escaping. We'd gotten caught up on our current love-lives—inexistent for me, dating phase for Millie—and we'd mocked our exes and their screw-ups. We'd looked up each other's horoscopes and ascendants and moon signs, shocked at how accurate they were. Millie's revealed she was energetic, spontaneous, competitive, and perfectionist. "It's so true!" she'd said, going ninety miles per hour on a fifty-five limit street. Typical.

The interpretation of my signs gave off mixed opinions—which made sense, as I often gave out mixed signals. Few were able to understand me, and I never made it easy for them. The biggest traits mentioned about my star sign—Capricorn—pointed me out as a vindictive, lying piece of shit. Which... I wouldn't fully disagree with, though I never lied.

As we chuckled and expressed our excitement at getting away for the weekend, we paid no heed to the world around us. And then, as if destiny wanted to prevent our upcoming relaxation, the tire of Millie's nineteen-ninety-one Buick exploded, propelling us off the lonely desert route. Stranding us on the side of a street with nothing behind us, and more nothing ahead.

"Shit, shit!" Millie had said, taking control of the vehicle before it whirled out of control. "Rose, what the fuck?"

She'd managed to direct it off the road and up to a random side street. One of those never-ending, half-gravel, half-dirt roads that traveled miles and miles away to some isolated ranch that didn't even have an address. Or a zip-code. Nevada.

Well, shit, shit, indeed. What else could have gone wrong? We'd started off by taking the wrong way, according to Jenny, who had already texted us twenty or so minutes ago to declare that she was halfway there. And now, we were stuck. And we would be for a while, if none of the damn cars whooshing by took pity on the two twenty-somethings glaring at the ancient vehicle that had betrayed them.

"Did the tires catch on something?" I fastened my pale blonde curls into a ponytail and fetched my hat from the car. With my white-as-fuck complexion, I had no doubt I'd burn in a matter of seconds, despite the layers of sunscreen I'd lathered onto myself before I left.

Millie's skin was darker, but was covered in a sheen of sweat. She popped up and wiped her hands on her jean shorts. "Dude, I don't know." Her island-themed shirt blew open in a breeze of wind—hot air, of course, not refreshing in the least; thanks, Nevada—showing her dampened spaghetti strap top below.

"But didn't you look at the tire when we heard that weird noise earlier?" I recalled when we both gasped, after the tire had seemed to roll over something. We'd both dismissed it, too deep in our conversation to give a crap. "It was fine, right?"

I walked over to the crime-scene—the entire top of the rim was exposed, and the tire drooped from it as if it had been slashed.

"I did, and it was fine." Millie wrinkled her button nose as her dark eyes creased. "I mean, I think it was."

With a groan, I lifted my phone to my face, realizing I had one bar of service. No, two. No... none. "I should call Jenny again. We got disconnected, I'm not sure she heard me say the tire exploded—"