Escape: Day 4

Word Count: 24,018

Summary of Events: 

Trace and Dallis left the restaurant she'd formerly worked at and continued driving; encountering a multi-car accident that blocked all traffic lanes and had no emergency vehicles on scene, they were forced to stop and talked a bit about the outside world, which Trace found Dallis had little experience with. Once the accident had been cleared up enough that they could move on and finally got to Chattanooga Trace stopped and bought Dallis some more decent clothes before they went for a late lunch . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"They finally made it into the restaurant and he led her to seats at the far end of the counter. She sat on the end one. She didn't want to sit beside anyone, other than him — being as she knew he wouldn't touch her.

Cautiously she scanned the entire dining room — which was rather sparsely occupied, although being as it wasn't a mealtime it wasn't surprising — and saw no familiar faces or figures, much less any vehicles that had Georgia license plates outside.

"So are you going to eat something or just spend the whole time scouting?" he asked her quietly.

She exhaled sharply at him before turning back forward and looking at the menu. It took awhile before she found something she figured would be somewhat appetising. When the waitress with the terrible hair-dyeing job and an inordinate amount of earrings who looked bored out of her tree walked over to take their order in a nasal monotone she whispered it to Trace.

He gave the orders to the waitress, who wrote them down carelessly. She then looked at Dallis. "And what's the Grim Reaper having?"

Dallis tensed and shot her hand out for the napkin holder nearby. A firm, strong hand seized her wrist so tightly she couldn't pull out of it, so she tried to hit Trace over the head with the napkin holder instead.

"Stop it," he hissed. "I know I'm touching you, let go of it and I'll let go."

She released the napkin holder while glaring at him viciously. He released her and told the waitress he'd given her order too. The waitress, casting a suspicious look at Dallis, nodded and left.

"Maybe a reason why you shouldn't have worn my sweater," he whispered. "And regardless of what you're called, losing your cool like that is only going to attract attention to yourself, and people are going to remember you, thus, if your buddies from Lady Z's come around looking for you people are going to say they saw you because they'll remember someone losing it like that. You're conspicuous enough walking around in a sweater you could fit in a half a dozen times over."

Glaring at him, Dallis welled up and spat at his hand.

He swore under his breath and grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. "I'm not trying to be a cad, I want to make sure they don't get you back."

She exhaled sharply as Trace replaced the napkin holder. The waitress returned with their drinks, still looking at Dallis dubiously.

"She knows Halloween ain't 'til the end of next month, right?" the waitress whispered.

"Yes," he replied. "She's just cold."

Dallis glared at the waitress, her jaw set.

"Cool it," he whispered once the waitress had left. "Making enemies doesn't lower your profile."

Dallis worked on taking deep breathes while glaring between Trace and the waitress. If people wouldn't go levying insults on people they didn't know things would be more than fine."