Where Your Road Leads

A young woman is trapped on the ride of her life

He scared her when he was like this, but she didn't feel like she could say no. When he said it was time to ride, he would take no argument. They'd almost been caught too many times when she hemmed and hawed. He had an instinct that kept them one step ahead of the bill collectors and the law; and tonight he had said it was time to ride.

Tonight was different, though. He was tense, and it made her nervous; he was always flexible, ready to bob and weave with whatever bad-luck wind blew their way. Now he was rigid, unbending but brittle, like a china statue of a fierce dragon.

The turn onto the interstate passed by in desperate slow motion; she realized they were heading out of town, where Route 134 changed to the plain old broken remains of Northland Avenue. The interstate had shut Northland down, along with all the businesses along it, including her mother's dress shop and his mother's garage. Northland was a road to nowhere, now—nowhere but High Watch Loop way out on Watermont Point and the wild Atlantic beyond.

The engine rumbled as the car picked up speed.

He took a swig from the bottle, the brown paper crinkling as he set it back between his legs. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gritting his teeth. He stared down the road with a fierce concentration. Does he want to follow the road or kill it? she thought.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was surprised that she sounded almost normal when she spoke, despite the snakes coiling in her belly and the gooseflesh up and down her arms. “Where… Where are we going?”

“Somewhere better, baby. Somewhere better.”

He floored the gas.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 299
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "Where are we going"