Kismet (2 page)

But before I can do that, I must satisfy the vision playing through my mind like a grocery list from hell.

Unlike the unknown woman, I know one of her possible futures. But I can change that, and I’m guessing that I was sent to help her, to make sure the men who take her fail. She must have something great waiting for her to accomplish, so the bad men I see have to be stopped. I am a firm believer in divine intervention, so I never question why I have this gift. I’ve seen too much in my twenty-five years on this earth not to believe that there’s got to be something better than this. Yet still, though I know what my mission is about, taking care of the local yokels is going to be a pain in my ass because I hate any delay that sidetracks me from reaching Los Angeles, from reaching the two men I’ve dreamed about.

For my entire life, the visions that have come to me have been about immediate problems. Fixing or helping people in the now. I need to be in close proximity, and I get very little warning to actually accomplish the task. But my dreams have always been different from the visions that come to me when I’m awake. They have centered on two men who have grown up with me through the years, starting as young children, turning into teenagers, and finally handsome men. Seek and Galloway. I know one of these men is destined for me, my soul mate. I just don’t know which one.

My mother called them my imaginary playmates when I happened to mention them once. After she married my stepdad, I stopped telling her anything, because more often than not, she was either stoned or drunk.

When I turned eighteen, and just before the virus struck, I had had enough of my stepdad’s abuse and left. I tried one time to talk to my mother, begging her to leave him and come with me, anywhere, and end the cycle of abuse. But she slapped me, told me to stop acting like a slut trying to steal her husband away. So I left my mama in her hovel of a trailer and went to Georgia. I got a job as a waitress and never looked back.

The virus had been the one thing I never saw coming.

It has been the singularly most overwhelming guilt I’ve ever felt. One of my coworkers had a daughter, and it almost killed me to watch her die in her mother’s arms, because I never had a chance to warn my friend. I don’t know the reason why I never had a premonition about the virus, but I hope I never have to experience that helplessness again.

Early on, no one knew why some contracted the virus and others didn’t, and so like the Black Death from the Middle Ages, people feared what they didn’t know. But who could blame them? The symptoms were horrible. High fever, vomiting blood, swelling lymph nodes. It was almost exactly like the bubonic plague, except the bacteria wouldn’t respond to any known antibiotic, and the only cure was death.

Obviously I was one of the lucky who seemed to be immune. And I did my best to help others, but then came a dream that changed everything. In it, I saw Seek and Galloway in military uniform crossing into Missouri, the Arch very visible as they traveled over the Mississippi River. I had never before dreamed of them in a place I could identify, and I took this as a sign. I knew, somehow, that I had been given their location for a reason. So I packed up my car, said good-bye to my small community of coworkers and friends, and left.

At the time, I thought I had it all figured out. I would go to Missouri, meet them, find out which man was supposed to be my destined love, and that would be that. Finally, after years of being alone, I would have a partner with whom to travel through life. However, by the time I got to Missouri, I discovered their company had rolled out. I was left feeling frustrated and confused, so without another dream to guide my destination, I settled for a time in the soon-to-be new capital of the barely-holding-on United States.

It was there that I saved a man from a runaway SUV, using my little car to block its path. And being ever so grateful to still be alive, the man gave me a durable off-road ATV, the Ice Cat. The idea of trading my special gift for favors was born, and since then, I’ve collected many skills.

I sit in my ATV and wait, mindful of the few souls who eye me. I guess it’s not often they see a long-legged blonde dressed all in black, ridding into town like a badass bitch. It’s not all show, though. I’m pretty confident I can kick these spectators’ asses. One thing I’ve learned is never be a liability to myself.

I keep my gaze focused primarily on the restaurant, and before too long my target emerges. It’s no surprise to me that she is exactly as I saw her in my mind, down to the double-knotted shoelaces on her dirty sneakers. Her hair is multicolored reds, not quite matching the faded pink waitress uniform that looks to be a tad too tight for her. She stands next to the broken curb, looking for someone, and our gazes briefly lock. I wear mirrored sunglasses, and I can tell this disconcerts her, because she glances at me a few more times.

Most people don’t know what to make of me, and that’s all right. I have this silly Southern accent I can’t seem to shake, I stand about five feet ten inches without shoes, my long legs are encased in black, and I have pale blond hair that hangs almost to my ass. I guess one day I should cut it, but it’s the one vanity I have kept. Right now it’s braided back because the wind plays hell with it as I drive and causes all kinds of knots that take me hours to brush out.

A tingle starts to churn in my gut, and I know whatever is about to go down will be happening soon. So I exit the Cat and walk over to the girl. All her pretense at not staring drops, and I see her eyes widen with each step I take toward her.

“Hey,” I say in greeting, smiling to put her at ease. “My name is Evie Rhoton.”

“Hey,” she answers back in a shy, hesitant way. “I’m Nessa.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I say. “Nessa, do you happen to know two men in a faded green pickup truck?”

“The Donnelly brothers?” I see a spark of anger in her brown eyes. “Why would you be wanting those assholes?”

I have to smile at this. “Oh, I don’t really want them, but they might be up to no good, causing you some trouble. Why don’t you go back into the restaurant and wait for a moment?”

“Oh my Lord!” Nessa gasped. “Bobby did something to them, didn’t he? He went and called them out or attacked them, didn’t he?”

“Maybe,” I reply with raised eyebrows. “What did the Donnelly brothers do?”

She sighs. “I was workin’ late last night.” She nods over her shoulder to the restaurant. “The brothers got rowdy, and Bobby, my fiancé, threw them out.” And then she places a hand on her stomach in an unconscious gesture.

So now I know the reason behind this vision.

Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see the green truck turn onto the main street.

“All right,” I say to Nessa, placing my hand on her elbow and guiding her toward the restaurant’s door. “You go on in, and I’ll take care of the Donnelly brothers.”

She follows my gaze, and her body starts to shake. Luckily, I don’t need to prompt her again. With a squeak, she rushes back into the safety of the building.

So I wait there, my arms folded across my chest, as I watch the truck stop in front of me. The windows are rolled down, giving me an unobstructed view of the two men inside. They are young, obviously just kids when their world collapsed. Perhaps they had already been wild things, bullies on the playground who grew up always in trouble with the law. I can see a lack of feminine influence in their dirty teeth and unwashed hair.

“Well, lookie here, JayJay.” The brother in the passenger seat, the one nearest to me, whistles.

“Yep, I see her, Stevie,” JayJay mutters back. “Where’s a pretty thing like you been all our lives?”

I reach up and remove my sunglasses, letting them get the full effect of my icy blue eyes. “You boys have come to do a bit of mischief.”

“Aw, sweet thing, that’s what we do best.”

They give me grins, thinking I’m going to be charmed. All I want to do is gag.

“Why don’t you throw that baseball bat you have under your seat out of the window nice and slow.” It wasn’t a request.

They blink as their tiny minds digest what I’ve asked them to do. The slimy smiles immediately fade from their faces, and they lose their affable relaxation.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stevie asks with a growl.

I move my right arm fractionally, and I reveal the three small daggers I have in my fist. “You might be thinking that these small blades are no match for the force behind a swinging club of wood, but I doubt you simpletons are fast enough to hit me quickly enough before my sharp little friends tear through your flesh.”

Again, there is a second delay as they both try to digest what I’ve said to them, and when it does sink in, both sputter in a tirade of outrage.

“What did you call us?”

“Why, you little bitch!”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

JayJay throws the truck in park and bangs out of the driver side. He storms around the truck toward me, and before he can blink, a dagger embeds itself into the tender spot right above his armpit. He howls and steps back from me. He yanks the little dagger out, and as I watch him look from it to me, I see the fury explode in his eyes.

He does something incredibly stupid at this point by raising the dagger and taking another step toward me. Obviously it hasn’t sunk it that if I hit the spot I was aiming for, then it stands to reason I know how to use these blades. I toss another one, which imbeds in his hand. He screams in pain and drops my dagger to the ground. He falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he sobs in pain.

I walk over to him and calmly pick up one dagger from the ground before grabbing the hilt of the one protruding from between his knuckles.

“This is going to hurt,” I tell him and then quickly yank it out of his flesh. He screams again and stays there dripping blood onto the dusty street. I hear the truck door slam, and I instinctively know that Stevie has the baseball bat in his hand, getting ready to use it on me. So I crouch down and whip my arm out, letting the third dagger fly from my fingertips. I see it embed itself into Stevie’s thigh, at which he promptly cries out and falls back. The bat hits the ground with a clatter. I rise and walk over to him, watching for a moment as he moans in pain and clutches the area, which is bleeding profusely.

Like I did with his brother, I yank the dagger from his flesh. He manages not to scream, but I catch him puffing deeply from the pain. Tears leak from his lashes.

I wipe the blades on his shirt, capturing his attention.

“Another inch and this blade would have hit your femoral artery,” I inform him. He just stares at me in part mixture of horror and hatred. “And in case you don’t realize what that means, you would have bled out in about four minutes. I imagine it would have just seemed like four seconds as your heart pumped out your blood with each beat, causing you to get weaker and weaker until there wasn’t any more left to sustain your body. I wonder what your last thought would’ve been, eh?” I fall silent, letting that thought marinate for a moment. “People say your life flashes in front of your eyes just as you’re about to die.”

With those words lingering, I stand up and stare down at both men. By this time, a small crowd has formed around us, watching.

“Stevie, JayJay, there may not be any law in this town, but that won’t stop atonement from creeping up on you,” I tell them. “I came here for a reason, so don’t go thinking you’re not being watched.” I pat them both on the shoulder and leave them there, bleeding and moaning.

I know my work is done. I’ve managed to effectively take their minds off revenge against Nessa, and maybe at the same time I’ve put a little consciousness of consequences in their minds. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

As I pass by the restaurant doors, Nessa comes racing out.

“Wait!” she calls to me. “How did you know? How did you know they were coming after me?”

Ah, the moment of truth. “Did you ask God to protect your unborn baby?” I ask her, and by the way her eyes widen and by the way she places a protective hand on her still-flat stomach, I can guess her answer. “He heard you.”

I don’t know if this is the truth, of course, but I like to think it is. I like to believe that in a world full of ugliness and brutality, there is one beacon of hope and light. That if someone prays hard enough, then a higher power is listening and sending me problems to fix. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful notion?

I get into my Cat and, without looking back, zoom out of Badlupa and resume my journey.

Chapter Two

My little side trip only took about forty-five minutes total, but by the time I hit Interstate 40 again, it’s late in the day. I don’t like traveling at night, especially as a woman alone, even though I am equipped with a small arsenal. Though the roads are mostly deserted during the day, when the sun sets it’s a whole different story. I find this especially true in the desert states such as New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada. I suppose it has to with the temperature; just like all creepy-crawly things, the poisonous population of mankind comes out when it’s cooler.

I have a slight headache, a minor side effect of the vision. Usually, I can handle them. Hell, I’ve been living with this my whole life. But the glare of the fading sun shimmering off the hot sand manages to puncture through my dark glasses, and it’s really annoying. So when I come across a forgotten and abandoned rest stop, I pull off the highway. In the twilight I can see the place is deserted. The sidewalks are busted up, as are the bathroom facilities. The metal picnic tables are rusted through, a most impressive feat since the average rainfall in this area is less than what I’ve peed today. But the one nice thing that’s remained standing are the trees that obviously were planted here some time ago to add a comfortable and inviting touch, back when people actually traveled the freeways. I drive my ATV around until it rests behind the fattest tree base. I cut the engine, sit in the driver’s seat, and wait. I am listening for anything out of the ordinary, some sign that I have been followed. But all I hear are the mating calls of crickets around me. After a few more minutes, I am satisfied and exit my vehicle to retrieve my sleeping gear from the flatbed. All of my worldly possessions are packed well and tied down under waterproof tarps and ropes—my tent and sleeping bag, food rations, clothes, extra water, and various odds and ends from my many years of traveling. Also included is a fifty-gallon drum of gasoline. I don’t have much in the way of possessions, but I don’t need much.