Escape: Day 6

Word Count: 36,037

Summary of Events:

Dallis made plans to leave Trace for his own safety as much as her own at his next stop. Trace and Dallis stopped for supper at one of Trace's favourite restaurants where Dallis ended up making several scenes due to touch-related incidents, including one that got a man hospitalised. Dallis managed to leave Trace's truck without waking him and made her way toward the city nearby. Trace woke up when his alarm went off and found Dallis was gone.

Excerpt of the Day:

"A slamming sound startled Dallis awake and she saw a car parked across from her in the light shining off of the wall just ahead of her that jutted out beyond where she'd chosen to sleep for the night once she'd finally made it to the city.

Walking toward her was a slim, grey-haired man who looked to be wearing a stiff collar. He noticed her once he got beyond the further wall and out of the light, she could tell by the way he moved.

"Oh, hello there," he said.

Dallis rose slowly and edged away from him.

"It's alright, would you like to come inside?" he asked. "I'm sure it must've been very cold out here, and you more than likely need a place to stay."

Warily Dallis watched him as he went over to the door beside her, unlocked it, and stepped inside, holding it open for her.

She heard a beeping noise coming from inside, but she stepped in anyways. The man went over to a glowing number pad and pressed some buttons that silenced the beeping. He then flicked a light on.

"Come," he said, beckoning to her.

Dallis followed silently as he led her to a stairwell, then down a to a small and rather old-fashioned looking kitchen. He took a small kettle from the stove, filled it, and then carried it back and turned on the fire underneath it.

"Would you like some tea, or coffee?" the man asked.

"Tea," Dallis replied, as quietly as she could.

"And is oatmeal fine with you?" the man asked.

Dallis nodded.

The man got out two mugs, a bowl, two spoons, jars of sugar and coffee, and a small bag of oatmeal.

Dallis watched silently from a distance as, once the kettle started to whistle, the man poured water into each of the mugs and the bowl, then added coffee grounds to one mug, and oatmeal to the bowl.

"Come and pick which tea you'd like," he said, bringing out a basket full of colourful bags.

Dallis moved closer and looked at them. She picked a deep pink package that contained a berry-flavoured tea. Opening the package, she removed the teabag and put it into the water, where it slowly wetted and sank.

"Come out and we'll sit," the man said, taking up the other mug and the sugar.

Silently Dallis followed behind him, carrying the bowl and her tea. The man passed her on the way back to the kitchen and came out after she'd sat down with a carton of cream.

Dallis added sugar and cream to her oatmeal while the man did the same to his coffee. She also added a touch to her tea once she decided it had probably steeped long enough.

"Now what is your name?" the man asked, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug.

"Fancy Hobbes," Dallis replied."

Escape: Day 5

Word Count: 30,012

Summary of Events:

Trace and Dallis stayed in a motel for the night, where Dallis first dyed her hair blonde before getting Trace to cut nearly two feet off of it. They had a late supper of pizza before going to bed. The next morning they warmed up some of the pizza for breakfast before setting out.

Excerpt of the Day:

"The wait had been longer than Trace had expected . . . until he'd remembered that she'd bought makeup yesterday, which led him to be not as surprised as he might've been before when she emerged from the bathroom with her face done up to ends he thought nearly excessive.

Her lips were deep red and full, her eyelids were covered in smoky grey almost all the way up to her eyebrows, and her eyelashes looked twice as thick as they had before. She was also carrying the half-charred hair dye box in her hand.

"Right," Trace said.

He led the way out of the room and then stepped out of the way for her to get out.

"You have everything?" Trace asked.

Dallis nodded.

Trace closed and locked the door and then went over to his truck, which he unlocked and climbed into so as to set down his things. He then went and dropped off the key in the little key drop that they had — being as the motel wasn't open yet — before climbing back into his truck and getting a lighter.

"You still want to burn that?" he asked, indicating the box Dallis was holding.

Dallis nodded.

Trace led the way out to a spot in the middle of the parking lot. Dallis set the box down and Trace lit it. He then pushed Dallis in front of him quickly back to the truck.

When they got to the truck she kicked him in the shin twice.
"I'm sorry!" Trace exclaimed. "Can you stop beating up on me every time I touch you?"

Dallis glared at him savagely.

Trace's retort died when the chemicals of the hair dye exploded, being as the flames had finally reached them.

They watched as the flames burned in scattered places around the parking lot for a few moments before dying. Trace then turned back to Dallis.

"I'm sorry I keep touching you," he said. "But I didn't know how soon it was going to blow and I didn't want either of us to get hit, okay?"

Trace then waved her up into the truck. She climbed in, still glaring. If it weren't for her glare Trace wouldn't have been certain she was the same person he'd arrived at the motel with the night before.

He walked around his truck in his usual inspection, then climbed in the driver's side and fired it up.

Dallis was already seated and buckled up, staring fixedly out of the windshield when he got inside, and she didn't move other than the rise and fall of her body as he manoeuvred his truck out of the parking lot and onto the road.

They'd get through Nashville and likely across the border into Kentucky before they had to stop for the night. If not they'd definitely be close to the border."

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."

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."

Escape: Day 2

Word Count: 12,011

Summary of Events:

Trace was heading back toward the South, and on a route that would take him through Atlanta again, but he had to detour around a major crash north of Chattanooga. Dallis — after breaking a pitcher over the head of a customer who'd thrown his drink in her face — tried to make an escape, successfully stealing two guns and shooting or knocking out some five men, but failed. Trace stopped by the restaurant she worked at again to eat and respected her refusal of his desire to spend more time together.

Excerpt of the Day:

""I think it'd be better if you just let us take you in," Ross said. "We've got thirty six shots on your twenty four."

"Less than twenty four," Jay said. "One of those is empty."

"See? We've got three times the shots on you," Ross said.

Technically, with thirty six shots, they had eighteen times the shots she did, but she wouldn't dare tell them that. She wanted them to think she had a dozen shots.

"Come on," Ross said. "We don't want to fight with you."

"Yeah," Roy said. "All of this is your fault. If you'd stop running around and fighting we wouldn't have these issues. Stop fighting and your life will be a much more peaceful existence."

"I don't think she cares," Jay said. "I'm just surprised she hasn't actually used her gun to kill someone yet."

"You'd think she would've killed Saw though," Ross said.

"Why?" Jay asked.

"She shot him," Ross replied, using the indication of his finger to finish the sentence.

She raised her eyebrows at the region Ross indicated. No wonder he'd writhed around and screamed like he had.

"Oh," Jay said. "Is he goin' to be alright?"

"No sayin' now," Ross replied. "We'll probably find out tomorrow."

"Once we get her in," Jay muttered.

She cocked her head and fluttered her eyelashes at them.

Ross swore and stepped toward her. She stepped back. Ross stepped toward her again.

She started to step back again, but her foot collided with the downed form of Lenny and she fell backwards, spending one of her shots into the air in surprise.

Bush crashed as the men surged forward. Quickly she scrambled to her feet and went to run, but Lenny's hand seized her ankle and she hit her stomach.

Getting to her knees, she turned back and fired her last shot at Lenny's arm, which caused him to let go as he swore in pain. Again scrambling to her feet, she ran. Suddenly she heard the roar of the chainsaw coming to life again.

Abruptly she cut to her left, the west, as she heard the chainsaw roar before there was a great cracking and the wooden thud of the tree collapsing. The sound of the chainsaw didn't stop. She had a feeling they wanted to chase her with it and wound her with it if they had to.

Now that the tree had fallen she kept running and found the railway tracks in short order. She also found there was a train bearing down on her, heading the opposite direction of the first train. It sounded its horn.

She stared, frozen in fright for a moment before suddenly hands seized her and hauled her back just before the train roared by with a louder roar and a heavy wind that caused her restrainer to stumble backwards and fall."

Escape: Day 1

Word Count: 6,006

Summary of Events:

Trace stopped for supper at a truck stop and met a man he'd had an unsavoury prior encounter with. Dallis was transferred from her detention cell to a different room despite her best efforts at fighting. Trace ended up an hour beyond Atlanta and stopped at a truck stop he'd never been to before, where he was waited on by Dallis before going outside to sleep . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Silently she stared after him. He'd taken her answer and left it at that. She hadn't ever had a customer do that. But then again, he'd been odd all the way around, being so polite, and having an unfamiliar accent.

She watched through the windows as he crossed the parking lot to a rather nondescript truck. The only thing different about the trucks around it was the look of the grille.

Turning away at last, she went back to the kitchen. Lonnie was watching her, his gun in plain sight. She glared at him and strode further back into the kitchen until she couldn't see him.

Quickly she slipped out of the kitchen through the back door and then down the short hall to the north door that led into the chill of the September evening. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shuddered, then looked toward the parking lot and saw his truck again. She wanted to see if she could get close to it enough to see some sort of distinguishing feature.

Seeing one of the other girls striding across the parking lot briskly toward a truck, she quickly started out, keeping as far from the restaurant as possible, but keeping her gaze fixed on the truck.

She soon noticed the license plate on the front of the truck. It said Alberta on it. She read the alphanumeric combination in red characters dominating the plate and worked to memorise it. She'd need to get back quickly, after all.

Turning away, she repeated the plate's information again, checked over her shoulder to make sure se had it right, and then repeated it to herself all the way back to the restaurant.

Inside again, she leaned against the door and thawed out a little bit before slipping into the kitchen, collecting her pad and pencil again, and sliding past a suspicious-looking Lonnie into the dining room again.

She wrote down the license plate number and Alberta onto the top sheet and tore it off, sliding it behind the waistband of her pants — not that it reached her waist — before going over and giving menus to a couple of newly arrived customers.

She wasn't sure why she'd taken the license plate number, but she felt like it might be useful to her in the future. When, she wasn't sure, but there was something about that surprisingly polite man that made her think it would be useful — if not valuable — later on."

October Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Escape

Time Setting: 2016

Genre: Thriller

Minimum Word Goal: 120,000

Timespan: September–November

Locations: Peace River, Alberta; Atlanta, Georgia; the 48 contiguous US states

Main Characters: Trace O'Hannigain, Dallis Riebel

Background Information:

Born the only son in his parents' tempestuous union — whose storminess and demise were caused by his mother being a radical environmentalist and his father working for Big Oil — Trace had an unsurprisingly tumultuous childhood.

Shortly after his parents' divorce his mother got a boyfriend, with whom she eventually would have a further five daughters. Due to his father's work he and his sisters were in his mother's custody more often than not, which led to trouble.

It wasn't that his mother's boyfriend didn't like the daughters he was fathering, it was merely that he wanted a son for himself, and when a son wasn't showing up with each subsequent birth, he got upset and began to take his jealousy and frustration out on Trace, who began craving the time with his father.

When he was twelve his father remarried and mounted a case for increased custody of his children, but thanks to forged evidence provided by Trace's mother's boyfriend, he ended up losing all custody of his children.

In an effort to escape the abuse he was suffering, at fifteen Trace absconded with his mother's boyfriend's truck, driving to where his dad lived and showing his dad convincing proof of the abuse he'd suffered, leading his father to mount another custody case which he won.

Unfortunately, after his father won custody his caring for his children dropped significantly and Trace's stepmother became insufferably overbearing, which has led Trace to distance himself from his family, aided by his occupation of choice: long-haul trucking.

Born the daughter of a whore — thus it's no surprise she has no idea who her father is — Dallis' life is best described as being a wretched experience, so far.

With other daughters of the other whores Dallis has been raised with the express purpose — as far as the gangsters in charge are concerned — of becoming a whore herself, and she thus hasn't had that much freedom at all in her life.

However, being as her mother is an addled, deluded, and almost zombie-like person that Dallis sees as almost inhuman, she has no intent whatsoever of capitulating to the gangsters' plans and desires for her life.

So far, she's had success in resisting the gangsters' efforts to make her like her mother — especially thanks to the gang's extensive library of self-defence books — but being as she hasn't escaped their clutches, she's running out of time, as the gangsters are growing impatient with her lack of submission and are threatening her life.

When she was eleven she'd vowed she would find a way to escape the gangsters, and in the years since she has looked for opportunities, but none of them were suitable enough. Now she's going to have to take the first opportunity she finds, as it's only a matter of time before the threats become action.

Novel begins on October 3.