Just oneA Story by Cassie MenoHow hard can you resist who you've been brought up to be?My mouth feels about as dry as the barren desert flying
by outside my window. I look down at the plastic cup sitting in the holder. I
picked it up about a hundred miles back at a truck stop and haven’t been able
to take more than a sip of it. I’ve still got that taste in the back of my
mouth. The taste of blood. I get it every time, and anything I put into my
mouth just makes it worse. Just makes me crave more. So the cup just sits
there, sweating. A mile marker flies past on the left side of my truck,
but I’m driving too fast to catch what number it says. Not that it matters; I’m
not going anywhere specific. I just want to get as far away as possible. I’ll
drive west until I get to the pacific, and then, when nothing but the water is
in front of me, I’ll keep driving, because I know that if they ever find me,
they’ll drag me back, and everything will go back to how it was. Dying is the
only thing that will keep me from going home. But I’m just one person. My whole family is back at the
house, and they won’t stop just because I’m gone. I swallow hard, my throat burning. Maybe it really isn’t
worth it. Maybe I should just turn around and suck it up. I can’t change the
world. And I can’t stand the hunger for much longer. I reach for the cup and take a small sip. The metallic
taste in the back of my throat gets stronger, as if the flat, watered down
soda, is actually some poor little girl’s remains. Thinking that makes my
stomach growl. I roll down my window and throw the cup out. Up ahead, the sun catches on a silver car pulled to a
stop on the shoulder. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I’m sure there’s
nobody there; they probably went to find help. But I can’t help slowing down as
I get closer, just to check. My stomach drops when I see the girl sitting on the hood
of the car, because I don’t want to stop. She puts her hand up to shield the
light and looks at me as I get closer. Maybe she’s hopeful; maybe she thinks
I’m going to stop and help her. Maybe I can do it. I just ate about four hours ago. Maybe
I can stop and give her a jump. I’ll stay as far away as possible so that I
don’t smell her too much. I’ll prove to myself that I’m not a complete
barbarian. I pull up behind her and put my hazards on. She hops off
of the hood where she had been sitting, her knees scrunched to her chest. She
keeps her distance"worried I might be some kind of serial rapist. If only she
knew. “Can I give you a jump?” I ask. That’s all I’ll do for
her. It’s all I can do. There’s no way she can get in the truck with me. She must be comforted by the fact that I haven’t moved
away from my truck. She takes a step toward me. I can smell her now; the wind
is starting to pick up and I can smell her shampoo. It’s enough to make my
mouth start watering. I reach into my pocket and feel around for the pocket
knife, find it, and push my hand against it. I need something to distract me
from the way she smells, from the aching hunger that’s ravaging my stomach. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It just sort of stopped.”
She’s a mess. Probably not even old enough to drink and stuck alone in the
middle of the desert. And now she’s caught my attention. Poor girl. She’s cute
too. Maybe running into me isn’t the worst thing that could happen. I make it
quick. I can make it so that she doesn’t feel anything I do to her. “Well, I don’t know much about cars.” It’s a lie. I know
enough about them to build an engine from scratch with my eyes closed. “Do you have cell service? Mine is dead.” I push my hand harder into the side of the blade. It
would be so easy! “Sorry, I don’t have a cell phone.” She takes a few steps closer and I hold my breath. “Could
you just give me a ride to the nearest truck stop then?” She reaches into her
pocket and pulls out a clip filled with twenties. “You can have all of it. I
just want to get home.” She’s tearing up, staring at me with her brown eyes,
begging me to help her. Maybe, just maybe I can resist for a few minutes. The
closest truck stop is only about twenty miles back the way I came. It won’t
take long to get there. If I can stop thinking about it, everything will be
fine. “Oh, I don’t need your money. Come on, get in. I just
passed one not too far back.” I get back in and roll down both of the windows
before she makes it over to the passenger’s side. “I really appreciate this. It’s my first road trip. I was
going to see my boyfriend, and"“ She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.
“Figures.” I lean as close to the window as possible, trying to
breathe the air from outside. I start the car and pull back onto the road. “Are you
alright? You look a bit sick.” This poor girl seems so nice. And I do feel sick. I feel
like I haven’t eaten in days. I don’t think I can actually make it to the truck
stop. But I can’t really pull over and tell her to get out, right? “Maybe if we turn the air on you’ll feel better.” I shake my head. “Don’t have air. Sorry, I’m fine; been
driving for a while.” “Well then you should at least let me buy you some lunch
when we get to the stop.” Food. I wish she hadn’t mentioned it. I look to the empty
cup holder and wish I hadn’t thrown my drink out. Even the taste would be
better than this. “That won’t be necessary. It’s really no problem.” “You’re going back the way you came to get me to a
telephone. I insist.” The argument will have to wait until she’s out of the
car. I can’t keep talking. My left hand is still in my pocket, pressing up
against the blade, but the pain isn’t making much difference. Finally, the truck stop comes into view. I press down
harder on the gas pedal, pushing my speed up to ninety, and turn into the empty
parking lot. We both stare at the building for a moment. My stomach is
growling so bad that it seems to be all I can hear. All I want is for her to
get out of my car, but it’s obvious now that I’m here. This truck stop is
empty. The windows are all broken or boarded up. There’s a single gas pump off
to the right, but the hose has been pulled off and lies a couple feet away in
the dirt. I must have been driving too fast to notice on my way past it the
first time. The girl looks over at me, her mouth open a bit. “I’m so
sorry. I’ll just get out here.” I shake my head. She can’t wait in this heat for long. It
was supposed to tip off at a hundred twenty today, and it’s only two o’clock.
She has no water. No food. No cell phone. Either way, she’s going to die. Dehydration would suck, I think. It
would be cruel to leave her out here. I start backing out of the parking lot. “Sir, you really don’t have to.” I look at her. Her skin is a bit pink from the sun.
There’s a small layer of sweat coating her arms, making them shine. “Yes,”
I say softly. I turn off of the road and start into the desert. “I’m sorry, but
I really do.” © 2011 Cassie MenoReviews
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4 Reviews Added on January 11, 2011 Last Updated on January 12, 2011 Tags: Cannible, desert, hitchhiking AuthorCassie MenoNVAboutHey, everyone, my name is Cassie Meno. I'm eighteen and I've been writing pretty much since before I could spell. I prefer longer pieces--novels and novellas mainly. I have a hard time getting a poin.. more..Writing
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