The dream that crept in was unfamiliar, as in she’d never had it before, but somehow she knew the exact steps to take. Knew what was coming before it happened. There she was, walking through the county fair, the hem of her dress flapping in the nighttime breeze. Around her, lights flickered, games ding-dinged and people laughed. There was a roasted chestnuts smell wafting past and a sense of wonder in the air. The brassy womble of a lone trombone dipped and lifted, coming from the direction of the bandstand. Happiness bubbled in her belly, anticipation, though she couldn’t say for what.
She only knew if she turned the corner at the cotton candy stand and left the loud, main drag, she’d see him. That’s where he’d been the night before. Standing under the willow tree in the shadows in his newsboy cap and suspenders, watching her. Making no attempt to lure her closer, but luring her nonetheless with the promise of…what?
The mystery he represented excited her. It had excited her the first night of the fair, but she’d exercised caution like she’d been taught and stuck to the crowd. What would she do tonight? Would she play it safe and spend another sleepless night wondering what if? Or would she go find out why, at such a distance, this unknown man could have such a wild pull on her being?
She took a step off the path and his body went on alert, separating from the tree. He shook his head at her. “Don’t,” he mouthed. “Please, don’t.”
His warning only made her more determined. More curious.
Another step was taken…
And then the dream changed. Shifted like sand.
One moment she was on the edge of the lively fair and the next, she was floating. Floating, kind of like last night when Jonas carried her to bed. White haze passed over her like torn shrouds and she left them twisting in her wake. Was she moving? Bright dots of light hung high above her and below, there was a sound of movement. Large movement. Rushing air and muffled music. And it was getting closer. Or, maybe she was moving closer to the sounds?
Ginny tried to open her eyes and find the source of the noise, but her head was muddled in a way she’d only ever experienced after an abundance of cold medicine. Rousing herself was repugnant when she could just float and sleep…
Suddenly, her feet touched down on something hard, jolting her, and the lethargy cleared like it had never been there to begin with.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the center lane of a highway with a semi-truck bearing down on her.
CHAPTER SIX
It was the kind of fear that couldn’t be described.
There was no build to it, just a precise slice straight through Ginny’s body—a very horrifying certainty that her life ended there. Now. In the middle of a three-lane highway.
I’m going to be road kill.
Would it be painful?
Please don’t let it be painful.
The worst part was she’d never know how this happened. How she’d gotten there. Oh, something similar to this had happened once before. She’d been lucky to escape. But she wouldn’t escape this. The semi-truck’s brakes were squealing and the driver was shouting behind the windshield, but he was going too fast, right?
Right.
Ginny closed her eyes and followed her body’s instinct to drop into a crouch.
The burn of hot metal screeched to a halt so close to her face, she could taste exhaust and motor oil in her mouth. She opened her eyes to find her pale, petrified face staring back in the truck’s front bumper and a shocked sob broke from her mouth, shivers turning to violent shakes as all hell broke loose around her.
“What the fuck are you doing?” shouted the truck driver, coming around the side of the vehicle. He pounded a fist on the grill. “You could have caused a pileup…”
The man continued to rail at her, but her harsh breathing and racing heartbeat drowned him out. I have to get out of here. She didn’t know where the intuition came from and she didn’t question it. Ginny pushed to her feet, stumbling backwards thanks to her trembling knees, and frantically searched for a way out.
Cars were stopped on the shoulders, people getting out to gape at her. Other motorists stuck their heads out of windows, some of them asking if she was okay, others cursing her for holding up traffic. Oh Lord, the smell of burnt rubber and the kaleidoscope of colors was making her nauseous.
Move.
Get home.
“I’m calling the police,” said the truck driver, fully breaking her out of her stupor. Grateful she’d put on her work shoes before falling asleep on the couch, Ginny wove through the stopped vehicles and got to the shoulder, sprinting for the exit up ahead. It was her exit, Ocean Parkway. She was close to home.