Less Than Nothing by R. E. Blake

Author:R. E. Blake
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Russell Blake
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Another morning in a truck stop, another questionable breakfast, and a feeling in my gut like I swallowed battery acid from all the high-octane coffee. Derek and I are sitting by the restaurant, the sun already blistering in the humidity even at 8:45 in the morning, and almost all the trucks that were there when we arrived are now gone.

We slept for a couple hours apiece, but the sleep deprivation’s starting to wear on us. Derek’s getting dark circles under his eyes, and not just from yesterday’s fights. When I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror after cleaning up, I look like the losingest raccoon in history.

Melody responded to my latest texts, which were vague and nonresponsive to her badgering about whether Derek and I did the nasty yet and wanting all the juicy details. I send her a message saying I’ll be offline all day, in the wilds of Tennessee, and will text again when I can.

I feel like I didn’t get any rest at all. The caffeine’s giving me a headache, and my splurge on a Snickers bar did nothing for me. Derek’s quiet, watching the traffic fly by on the freeway, and we’re both listless, like two prizefighters who’ve battled to a draw and are waiting for the final bell.

The morning grinds on as we alternate dozing while whoever’s awake asks the inbound truckers whether they’re willing to give us a ride, but there are no takers. I’m not surprised – I’ve still got a faint handprint on my face, and Derek looks like he went a few rounds with a bear. It’s bad enough we’re broke and homeless, but now we both look like trouble with a capital T, and there aren’t many who want to invite a hassle into their life.

At noon I call Helen. It’s all I can think of doing. She answers on the third ring, and I hear the familiar sound of her truck motor humming in the background.

“Hey, Helen. It’s Sage. You gave me your number?”

“Right! Sage, how you doing?”

“Not so good. We’re stuck in Tennessee and could use some help. Can you see if you know anyone who would give us a lift?” I ask, feeling guilty.

Her voice is chipper, though, and she doesn’t sound like she minds too much. “Sure. Let me make some calls and see who’s on the road around there. Where exactly are you?”

I give her the name of the truck stop, and she laughs. “I know that place too well. A pit, even by my standards. How you holding up?”

“You know. Life of a rolling stone.”

“Yeah, well, let me see if I can get you rolling again. Leave your phone on, and I’ll call if I find someone. In the meantime, let me know if you find a ride.”

“Will do. And Helen? I appreciate it. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I glance over at where Derek’s slumped with his eyes closed, out of earshot, but still lower my voice. I tell her about last night and the would-be rapist and my concerns about Derek.

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