Under Illusion: Day 5

 Word Count: 30,031

Summary of Events:

Having gotten herself into Trace's confidence with her false name, as well as a false story about being cash-strapped and wanting to visit family in Charleston, Dallis accepted Trace's offer of a place to spend the night, sleeping in his truck's bunk while he slept in the driver's seat. The following morning they had breakfast at the same restaurant, where Dallis was given a backpack full of supplies by Ratko at the washrooms after she and Trace had finished eating…

Excerpt of the Day:

Before she’d reached the table Trace looked over his shoulder. He got to his feet and started toward her, a quizzical expression coming over his face.

“Where’d you get the backpack?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dallis said. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “A friend of mine.”

“But you didn’t have it yesterday,” Trace replied.

“Well, no, it was a bit of a surprise gift,” Dallis lied. “My friend went out and bought me some vacation clothes yesterday and gave them to me this morning. He would’ve taken me to Charleston himself, but he’s already taken his year’s allotment of holiday time and he works in a job where he could get fired if he even tried to ask for more.”

“Oh,” Trace said. “I didn’t see you meet him.”

“I just met him now,” Dallis replied.

“Oh,” Trace said. He still looked a little suspicious, but said nothing further.

Once he’d passed her, Dallis fell into step behind him, waiting patiently as he paid the bill before following him out to his truck.

“Michael’s like a brother to me,” Dallis said. “He’s always looking out for me and trying to help, although I have to admit that I don’t always show myself to be as grateful as he deserves. I can be hard on him sometimes, but I’m trying not to be.”

Trace nodded.

“I told him yesterday that I’d finally gotten a ride to Charleston, but I didn’t honestly expect him to do this for me,” Dallis said, managing to get tears to rise to her eyes and emotion to affect her voice. “He’s truly a far better friend than I deserve.”
Without a word, Trace unlocked the passenger door and opened it.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Dallis asked.

“No,” Trace replied, his face showing his answer to be genuine. “No, I don’t really have any right to.”

“Okay,” Dallis said, climbing up into the truck without needing his help.

She removed the backpack from her shoulder and wondered where she should put it before Trace came in the driver’s side door.

“You can put it back over there, it shouldn’t move around,” Trace said, pointing into the sleeping area.

Dallis went in and found a place that looked about the right size to hold the backpack securely and put it there before settling into the passenger seat and fastening her seatbelt.

After closing the partition to the sleeping area, Trace sat down in the driver’s seat and fastened his seatbelt, before starting the truck, whose engine sounded very powerful — even more powerful than when she’d heard similar engines from outside such vehicles in the past — then he addressed the controls that looked rather more complex than those of the average road car before he finally moved the stick shift mounted in the floor and the massive vehicle started easing out of its parking place.