Just Past Oysterville: Shoalwater Book One (8 page)

"Cassia," she replied, and then under some
compulsion she didn't even understand, she lied. "Cassia um…
Williams, but everyone calls me Cassie.”

“
Never met anyone whose
middle name was
Um
before.”

“
It’s just Cassie Williams,
no um.”

The man's eyebrow had inched back up, but he
said nothing, chewing a bite of his pie instead. Then, after
another sip of coffee, he murmured, "A rose by any other name, I
guess. Names are like clothes, different suits for different
occasions, that’s what I say.” The man offered his hand across the
table, and Cassie shook it.

"Jack," he said.

Cassie smiled, “Never met
anyone named just
Jack
before."

“
Touché,” he laughed. “I’m
Jack Leland. Nice to meet you, Cassie. You’re quick, I like
that."

"Thanks." Cassie replied, "So, what's with
quoting all the Shakespeare, Jack Leland?”

“
Oh that,” he said, “well,
first off I’m not particularly stuck on the Bard, he just happened
to be fitting in this case. Occupational hazard, I
guess.”

“
Are you an
actor?”

“
Hardly,” Jack snorted,
choking on a swallow of coffee, spraying it back into the thick
ceramic mug with a gargling laugh, “I own a bookstore just outside
Long Beach.”

There was a pause, and when Cassie looked at
him, she noticed something strange. Jack had stopped eating and was
staring at something over her left shoulder. Cassie started to
turn, when Jack quietly said, "Don't."

He spoke the single word with such command
that she froze in her seat.

Jack began to tell Cassie about how he was
on his way back from a book auction in Texas, and had just stopped
off to get a break from the highway and a couple of cups of coffee.
While he was talking to her, Jack's eyes never moved from whatever,
or whoever, he was watching. Slowly and casually, he reached into
his jacket, lying on the seat next to him, and pulled out an apple
and an odd, wood handled knife. A leather sheath, which Jack
removed, covered the short, crescent shaped blade. Though the pine
handle looked old and worn, the blade was bright. Its concave edge
looked razor sharp as Jack held it in front of his face and slowly
began to peel the apple.

Jack kept talking, telling her how this was
sort of a working vacation and he was planning on taking
Interstate-8 down to San Diego, then follow Highway 101 all the way
up the coast to Long Beach.

Finally, whoever had gotten his attention must have looked
away, and Jack glanced back to Cassie, laying the knife down beside
his plate, in plain sight. Cassie glanced from the knife to Jack
and back, before leaning over the table and whispering, "What was
that all about?” Jack gave a slight shake of his head, looking back
up and Cassie realized that whoever it was, was coming towards
them. She could smell the flat stink of stale cigarette smoke
before he passed. From her vantage point, all she saw was the back
of a lanky frame, a dirty leather biker jacket, and a long, greasy
ponytail, as the figure quickly passed their table and headed for
the door. The other thing that caught her eye were the dark green
tattoos scrolling out from under each sleeve and across the backs
of his hands.

Then the stranger was gone.

Cassie looked questioningly at Jack, who had
wiped the blade of his knife clean and was returning it to his
pocket.

"He seemed to have taken an unhealthy
interest in our conversation," Jack replied to her unspoken
question. "I'm sure he was willing to offer you a ride if I had
turned you down."

Cassie felt her mouth go dry at the thought.
She tried to imagine being alone in the cab of one of those big
trucks, surrounded by that stink, those tattooed hands somewhere
nearby in the dark, and shuddered.

Jack reached for his pie once more as the
waitress returned with another piece for Cassie.

Without thinking, she clasped her hands
against the edge of the table and, bowing her head, said a quick
prayer for the food. Jack watched, amused by the complete lack of
self-consciousness the young woman showed, praying in front of a
room full of truck drivers.

Cassie glanced up and caught Jack's gaze,
misunderstanding his look.

"Do you have something against praying?" she
asked.

"Nope," he replied, unruffled, "Stick with
what works for ya, that’s what I say. I’ve just never had it do me
much good is all."

Cassie frowned but couldn't think of
anything to say to that, so they ate together in silence for a few
moments.

Finishing her pie, which wasn't a shadow of
Grace William's apple creations; she glanced up at Jack, who was
once again watching her with a speculative look on his face.

"Well," he said, at last, "I guess I could
move some boxes around and make some space."

Cassie held her breath.

"Problem is," he continued, "I'm not headed
straight across. Like I said, I'm planning to head back up 101, the
long way."

"That's fine," Cassie said quickly, "I don't
mind…"

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, "I thought
you were in a big, all-fired hurry?"

"A bird in the hand, and all that," she
replied, "Who knows how long I'd have to wait for someone else
headed that way? It's taken me the better part of two days just to
get here. I'm willing to change the plan if it means riding instead
of walking, and I can pay for gas…"

"Nah," Jack shook his head, "Keep your
money, I was driving anyway. Pay for your own grub and that'll be
enough. You're set on this, aren't you?"

Cassie nodded.

"Awfully foolish, if you ask me." He
grumbled, "The next guy you asked might not have been the harmless
old fool that I am. Might just be safer all around if you don’t
have to ask again."

"So, you'll give me a ride?" she asked.

Jack paused, chewing on his lip, then
sighed, "Well, I guess we can give it a try. I suppose if you start
getting under my skin I can always leave you on the side of the
road somewhere."

Cassie nodded enthusiastically, "That sounds
fair!"

"Just one thing," Jack said, pointing a
finger at her across the table, "No drugs, or any of that nonsense.
I mean it! I think anything funny is going on, I pull over and
you're walking again, we understand each other?"

Cassie nodded again, "Don't worry, I don't
do drugs."

"Good girl," Jack said, "I didn't think you
seemed like the type, but it's just best to have the understanding
out in the open, just in case."

"Understood," Cassie replied quickly.

Jack continued. "I'm warning you too, right
up front, I'm a grouchy old bear when I'm tired. I don't like
people chattering away at me all day long,” Jack paused, swallowing
the last of his coffee, “and I have it on the best of authority
that I can be a pain in the posterior on a long drive."

Cassie grinned in spite of herself, "Wife?" she
asked.

"Good Lord, no!" Jack exclaimed, "Just a
friend."

"A girl though?" Cassie pressed.

"You’re startin' already…” Jack growled.

"So," Cassie asked brightly, "How's your
pie?"

At that, Jack chuckled and dug back in. Soon
the pie was gone, along with another cup of coffee. “The road isn’t
getting any shorter just sitting here,” Jack said, gathering his
coat. “Let me settle this bill and we’ll go.”

Cassie dug quickly into her pocket and
pulled out a couple of dollar bills.

“
I’ll leave a tip,” she
said.

“
Fair enough and good
manners,” he answered, nodding. “Why don’t you meet me out front? I
need to talk to a man about a horse.” Cassie stared at him, not
having the slightest idea what he was talking about.

Jack shook his head and
jerked his thumb towards an overhead sign that read
Men’s Room
.

“
Oh,” said Cassie, blushing,
“Okay.”

Jacked walked toward the cash register,
chuckling, as Cassie escaped into the lobby.

Cassie glanced through the scarred plastic
windows of the newspaper boxes, but the headlines held nothing that
caught her interest. Bored, she decided to meet Jack at the van
and, stepping back out into the cooling night air, she started
across the parking lot.

Recovering her duffel bag and whistling
tunelessly, she headed for the van. Cassie was thinking of what an
answer to prayer it was, meeting Jack like this, when from the
shadow of a big semi, a hand suddenly clamped down on her arm.
Cassie uttered a brief shriek, and then froze. Dark, scrolling
tattoos covered the hand that held her upper arm in a viselike
grip.

“
Don’t be scared,
sweetheart,” a soft voice drawled from the darkness, “I heard you
asking that old fella for a ride. Just happens that I’m headed that
way myself.”

Cassie was suddenly cold and numb with fear;
she could feel herself starting to shake, as the pressure of the
man’s hand on her arm slowly pulled her back into the shadows.

"It’s…uh…it’s okay,” Cassie stammered, “I’ve
got a ride already, thanks."

"Oh?" the stranger replied in a whispering
sneer, the stench of stale smoke clinging to him like a thick,
bitter smog, forcing Cassie to fight to keep from gagging.

“
Don’t you worry honey, my
truck is
much
more comfortable than his, and I promise ya, I’m better
company…”

She felt panic beginning to gnaw at the
edges of her mind, as the hand pulled her further back into the
dark canyon between the trailers. Cassie knew she should fight, she
should cry out, but she couldn’t make her limbs move or will her
mouth to open, all she could think of was the blackness of the
shadows behind her.

As those shadows closed in, she bit down on
her lip, hard enough to draw blood, and the sudden pain helped her
pull her whirling mind back under control.

Cassie tensed herself, ready to spin and
lash out; planting a knee where she thought it would do the most
damage.

She drew a great breath of air to scream as
she felt the man behind her fumbling with the driver’s door of the
cab. Suddenly he stiffened and Cassie heard a hissing gasp of
surprise and then the clutching hand was gone and, with it, her
terrified paralysis.

With a sob of relief, she leaped forward,
out of that horrible shadow and smell and toward the light. She
started for the café, but something made her turn, some curiosity
that would not be satisfied until she had seen what was happening
there in the shadows.

In the dim place between the two trucks,
Cassie could just make out the lean, frozen form of her attacker,
just behind him stood another figure, slightly shorter and
stockier.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw that it was
Jack standing behind the malodorous stranger. One arm curled across
the taller man’s chest and the other…Cassie saw a dull glint at the
man’s throat and realized that Jack’s other hand held that oddly
shaped knife that he had used to peel the apple.

Now it rested firmly beneath the truckers
left jaw.

Above the soft hum of the overhead lamps,
Cassie could hear Jack whispering softly into the man’s ear. There
was a pause and the stranger suddenly flinched and with a gasp,
began to nod his head rapidly.

Jack began to whisper again, through clenched teeth, and her
attacker stuttered something in reply. Jack lowered the arm that
was crossing the taller man’s chest and reached his hand beneath
the leather jacket, pulling a small automatic pistol from the man’s
belt. After another brief whisper, the trucker reached slowly into
his pocket and retrieved a ring of keys, which jingled sharply in
his quaking grip. These he tossed toward Cassie, who jumped back in
surprise as the rattling keys hit the pavement at her
feet.

“
Kid,” Jack called softly,
“are you okay?”

“
I think so…” Cassie
replied, her voice quavering a bit.

“
Good girl, here’s what I
want you to do. Pick up those keys and go around the far side of
this truck, the one to your right. We’re going to meet you at the
back end of the trailer. Can you do that?”

“
I think
so…yeah.”

“
Good girl,” he said again,
his soothing voice belying the tension in the air, “hurry up now,
kid.”

Cassie bent and picked up the keys, almost
pitching forward as her head swam with vertigo. On the third try,
her sweeping fingers managed to catch the heavy silver ring and she
scooped up the keys and straightened, taking a deep ragged breath.
When Cassie reached the far end of the trailer, Jack was standing
there waiting. In his hand was the shiny automatic he had pulled
from the stranger’s belt. The trucker was leaning against the huge
double-doors, his bony, tattooed arms sticking out from the sleeves
of his jacket and his hands resting against the dusty back of the
trailer.

Cassie saw that he wore a greasy pair of
blue jeans and worn black cowboy boots as well. Jack stood several
feet behind the man, with the pistol aimed at his back; he took the
key ring from Cassie and tossed it onto the wide bumper of the
trailer.

Wordlessly the truck driver picked up the
keys and, selecting one, reached up with a shaking hand and opened
the heavy padlock that held the door.

This done he swung the door wide and climbed
up inside. As soon as he was in the back of the empty trailer, Jack
stepped up and quickly relocked the padlock, sealing the driver
inside his own trailer.