I Think I Must Be Suicidal.

That’s the only explanation for why I would get into a strange woman’s car in the middle of nowhere. 

“Are you lost?” she pops cheerfully. My shoulders jump as my head dashes to the left. I hadn't even heard the hum of an approacher. The windows to her satiny red small Toyota are down. From the side of the jagged road, I stare into the driver’s seat, accessing the proposer and my situation.

She’s a thin, pale woman with sharp features and a petite figure. Her hair is a short and hellish-black, matching eyes and lashes with the lush of a spider's legs pop above her cheekbones. 

“Uhh...”

A second begins. My head swivels around. It looks like a horror movie out here. The narrow road is lined with groves and thickets of towering pine trees. I have a slim polo on, but the chill in the air is still pricking goosebumps onto my arms. There are no animals in sight, no bird cawks of bug chitters. Even the sun is hiding away, tinting the sky a harrowing navy as it slips down into the earth.

A second ends. I look back to the woman whose smile hasn’t wavered a millimeter. My feet are bordering the line of yes and no. Heels padded onto the grassy soil and toes scraping forward to the uneven tar. 

I could reject the offer. Continue as a hopeless wanderer escaping from a ruined life. Maybe a boar would emerge from the sea of tree barks and entertain me with a split minute of misery before taking the remaining of mine away. Or perhaps my feet would give out under me and nature would swallow me whole—flesh, hair, and bones—before anyone could ever care to hunt me down. I have been walking for six dawns and my support is rapidly diminishing; my body swiftly lessening, shriveling. There’s no food left to nourish my fatigue and the hobo bag clinging on my back is near weightless; just an empty collection of plastic.

Two seconds.

On the other perspective, she could be dangerous. Lure me into her vehicle and stab me. But a woman as fragile-looking as her…

…

The car creaks as it sinks against my entrance. As the door shuts after me, I think, this is it. I will either have to fight her down or travel a normal ride, preparing to be received by humanity once again. Or rather, rejected.

I twist behind me to examine the single row of gray seats. Weaponless. Masked-murdererless. 

“Thank you,” I say into her eyes. They say black eyes don’t exist, but they’re wrong. Compared to my amber ones, hers are the exact opposite—glistening coal hot out from a flame. And they burn.

“It’s no trouble. Besides it wouldn’t be right to leave you here. I’m Mara.”  She holds out a small hand with a smile. I'm a man thrice her size—if she tried anything, it should be no trouble to stop her.

“Mose,” I offer my honey-colored hand, my gaze never leaving hers. Mara’s skin is smooth and warm. Hot even.

“Mose? As in Moses?”

I get that often and I have my Christian parents to thank for the creativity. “Yeah.”

Mara gives me a deep nod as if connecting the threads of an intricate spider web. After our shake, she asks, “Where you headed?”

I don’t know. Anywhere really. As long as it’s not back. Back is jeering agony. Back is where she refuses my existence, expelled me. Where the eyes mock and ridicule, unforgiving. Back is a place daring no return.

“To the nearest town would be fine.” My wrapper-filled bag crunkles as I shift it off me to the carpeted floor. A button clicks in the car and musky heat wafts out from the AC. Mara must’ve noticed my slight shiver and I’m grateful for the warmth. “Thanks.”   The quakes of my body lessen, with only absolute deprivation to keep them from completely vanishing. I'm hungry. Thirsty. So dry and empty. My stomach stopped growling two days ago.

She smiles. “Nearest town, huh…. Well, I know a place. It’s a little up ahead.”

Up ahead. Perfect.

The car glides forward on the bumpy road and I remember to buckle in. I think to ask Mara if she has a bite to spare, but I feel too ashamed. I'm a dirty and disheveled man she took pity on. Just this free ride was hospitable enough.

My body shifts uncomfortably, remorseful for soiling the silky cushion and a little hesitant of this woman's kindness. Yet it would be offsetting to go the ride while blatantly staring at her, so I keep my head facing the windscreen. Unchecked paranoia compels my eyes my eyes to dart to the side now and then. She has her vision glued to the road, bright headlights lighting the dim and narrow path before us. If another car were to come zooming from the opposite direction, there’d be nowhere to move. But I doubt we’ll see another living soul until we reach the town. All I have to do is stay alert till then.

A heavy silence sits with us in the car. If she wasn’t planning to make conversation, then music seemed like a good ambiance. It’s a stranger’s car though, not really my place to make suggestions.

As if reading my thoughts, Mara turns the stereo on and an ancient song fuzzes out. Some type of country-opera. Not at all my taste of tunes but a respectable space-filler.

The wheels continue to roll, oddly smoothly, over the lumpy pavement. To keep my fidgeting mind occupied, I form a routine of dart and dash. Watch the road for five seconds; shadowy, the pencil line of drive claustrophobic against the mountain of trees. Glance to the left for one; smiling, sweet, an overripe sweet, as if bitter maybe.

...

“About how much longer?” I’m fighting heavy eyes. Extreme fatigue and newfound warmth are dulling my consciousness. According to the digital clock of the car, it’s been forty minutes and the ill-lit pine scenery has remained an unwavering constant. The stretch behind us and before appears like an infinity loop of something inescapable. The headlights approach darkness, swallow a few feet, trails in darkness, and the cycle repeats over and over again.

“Not far, we’re almost there.” Her reply is preppy, not at all bothered by the eerie atmosphere. 

“Alright.” I struggle to maintain rigid in my seat but drowsiness is taking over. What if this woman is driving me to doom, leading me to lies? I look once again to the way behind—a terrible past of events, a place I pray to never return. The last thing to cross my blurring vision is a dash of Mara. For an hour she’s been head-focused on the road, a high-quality driver.

Yet as my lids slip close she is side-glancing me.

^^^^^

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