Driving and driving. She felt like she had been driving forever. Lost. She felt so lost. Literally and figuratively. Looking in the rear view mirror she knew there wasn't anyone... or anything following her. Well she hoped that was the case. She barely recognized herself. No sleep in at least two days was starting to wear her down. She needed rest.
The GPS wasn't working, and neither was the radio. All that came over the speakers was static, but was it just static? It was really grating on her nerves. She turned off the radio.
She had left New York City with a Thermos of coffee, a dozen glazed donuts, the "file", and a bag of clothes. Oh and the pistol, a parting gift from her father. It was sitting on the "file" right beside her as if it would protect her and the "file".
Not sure of her whereabouts, she shook her head groggily. An hour ago she had passed through a desert. A desert? She knew any desert should be hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. She must be losing her mind. She needed coffee, but had long since finished it off along with the glazed donuts.
Odd, she hadn't seen any other cars on the highway in a long time. She really hadn't seen anything else either. No gas stations, convenience stores, or even signs. No signs of civilization, and right now she needed civilization. She needed sleep, and it was getting late.
She was regretting that she started the "file". As a crime reporter, she had discovered a series of disappearances that were being covered up. At first she thought it was some kind of conspiracy, but the more she investigated the stranger things became. However, she was tenacious in pursuing the story, and kept meticulous notes. Taped interviews with the people who would talk. People, who after talking to her, ended up disappearing as well. She had hundreds of photographs, and the negatives. She was old school. No fancy digital cameras for her. She didn't really trust them.
When she first submitted her story, her editor rejected the story. She tried again, and then went over his head. Then she was fired. Her apartment had been broken into. Her friends started avoiding her.
She knew she was being followed. Watched at all hours of the day. She went to the police but they wouldn't listen. Then she went into hiding, but she still felt watched. Finally, desperate, she went to her father, and showed him the "file".
An hour later, he closed one of the may folders, and set it back in the box. He picked up his phone, and dialed a number. She heard it ring three times, and someone answered.
"Mister Jones, my daughter has a problem... okay..." He handed the phone to her. She listened as Mister Jones gave her instructions. Apparently, he worked for some group called Orb? The Occult Research Bureau. He told her to go to Dallas, and she would be contacted after she arrived. Well, he actually said, "if you arrive..."
Her father then gave her the pistol, a .45 caliber automatic pistol, and an extra clip, and a box of ammo. He also gave her a wad of cash he pulled out of a safe. His last words to her were, "Good luck...".
It had only been a few hours since she left her father's house, but it seemed like a lifetime.
She nodded off and swerved into the other lane. Jerking awake, she slowed down, and pulled off onto the side of the highway. Getting out of the car to stretch she wondered where she was? The landscape seemed strange. The plants looked odd, like some kind of bizarre cactus. There was also a weird smell. A very weird smell.
Then there was the lizard. A large lizard... with six legs, coming towards her. Oh great, now she was going nuts. She was hallucinating. Then the ground started to shake. She quickly got back in her car, and drove off. A few miles later she saw a sign. A sign for a motel. The Snooze Motel. Finally, she could get some rest...
To be continued...
One Gesture Writ Large
1 hour ago