Escape: Day 3

Word Count: 18,005

Summary of Events:

Dallis had an angry discussion with one of the gangsters after being tied up in her detention cell for the night. Trace started north again, having picked up his load, and anticipated seeing Dallis again. Dallis saw Trace pull in, and then saw there was only one spot left in her serving area and someone heading for it, so she pretended to work in another serving area so that Trace could get the seat. Trace came in and ate, enjoying the ability to see Dallis again before going to bed. Once her shift was over Dallis slipped out of the restaurant and over to Trace's truck. Trace let her into his truck and offered her his bed for the night . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"She turned her hooded head and looked up at the bunk. Raising her arms and adjusting the sleeves until her hands appeared — looking tiny in comparison with the sweater she was wearing — she took hold of the railing, squatted down, then surged upward, hoisting herself into the bed without even using the ladder.

Her feet were dangling over the bed edge as she adjusted the blankets and Trace thought he ought to take her shoes off for her. He took hold of her ankle.

She tore her foot out of his hold and suddenly a jarring pain shot through his cheekbone. Trace staggered before finally dropping to his knees, muttering every profanity he knew under his breath —except for the ones that referred to women.

He felt something running down his neck and touched it. Pulling his hand away, he saw dark liquid on it, some of it sliding down the sides of his finger. He licked the metallic-tasting blood off of his fingertips and then felt under his cheekbone. No blood.

So where was he bleeding from? He touched the side of his face, feeling for wetness until he touched his jaw and felt moisture, not to mention his finger came away bloody.

He found his first aid kit and used a gauze pad to wipe up the blood and then put pressure on the wound. He pinned the gauze between his jaw and his shoulder so he could open up another gauze pack. This one he put on top of the other one before using a couple pieces of medical tape to secure them to his jaw.

Rubbing at his cheek gingerly — he could tell it was already swelling — he finally looked up to see she was looking down at him, her feet no longer hanging over the edge of the bed, looking rather ominous, like the Ring-wraiths from the Lord of the Rings movies.

"Don't touch me," she said, sounding almost like a cat spitting.

"I just wanted to kind of help by taking your . . . shoes off," Trace replied, struggling not to swear.

Her defensive posture didn't change, even though she shifted around, undid the buckles on her shoes, and slid them off her feet, before dropping them off the end of the bed, where they landed heavily.

Trace sighed, releasing some of the slightly angry tension from his shoulders, and turned his gaze from where it'd fallen to the floor back up to her.

"I promise I won't hurt you Dallis," he said quietly. "I just want to help.

He sighed again and glanced away a moment before looking back up at her again. "Good night Dallis."

Carefully he lowered himself to his knees and made his bed on the floor. He might have to stop somewhere and buy a twin-sized air mattress if she was going to be staying with him for any length of time; he had a feeling he was going to wake up sore in the morning, but at least his chair was comfy."