-3-
Sounds of an engine nearby woke her up. Warily she looked around, spotting an old pickup truck pulled into a turnout nearby. Two big men with shotguns got out as the engine shut off, and a large muttish hound jumped out of the bed and made a beeline for her.
Crap. She hid behind the tree and hissed at the dog to go away. Instead, it bounded and capered around her.
“Hey, you, come on outta there.” At least, that’s what she thought it sounded like, as thick as the man’s mountain accent was.
Hands visible, Jill eased from behind the tree and looked at the two men. Both held their shotguns negligently, not pointing them at her. One looked to be about twenty, and the other, the one who had spoken she thought, about forty. The elder stood tall and wide, perhaps six four and two fifty. The younger looked only slightly smaller.
“Howdy, Miss. Kin we he’p you somehow?”
“Ah, yeah,” she replied. “I was…” Jill ground to a halt, suddenly aware of acute hunger. Even without hard physical activity, the thing within her demanded to be fed as it slowly rebuilt her legs.
She started again, after sitting down and pulling out her MRE, the only thing she had. “My name’s Jill, and I was riding in a truck. With a trucker, I mean, hitchhiking. I fell asleep and when I woke up, he had pulled off here and had a gun on me. He was going to rape me, but I got away.”
The dog nosed her interestedly as she tore open the thick food-packet plastic. “Sorry, gentlemen, I’m really hungry. And thirsty, too. Any chance you have some water?”
“Got beer,” said the younger one, and went to fish in a battered cooler in the truck bed. Walking over, he handed it to her as he pushed the dog away. “Go on, Klutz. Go on now.”
“Thanks.” She popped the top and guzzled. Despite the liquid’s warm temperature, she said, “Best beer I ever tasted.”
“First one o’ the day allas is,” he replied. “I’m Jimmy, by the way. This here’s my pa, Big Jim.” He squatted and held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, gentlemen. Looks like you’re not much smaller than your dad, though.” Jill shook his hand backward, then shoveled beef stew into her mouth with the long-handled spoon provided.
“Yes ma’am.” Despite his outrageous accent, rough clothing and appearance, the young man had a nice smile, and his teeth looked healthy. “What?” he asked.
“Guess I expected you to have a dip in,” she mumbled as she dug for gravy.
“Naw. That stuff’ll kill ya.” Jimmy grinned at his father, then stood up. “Well, we was gonna go do a bit of duckin’, and we’re already late. Wanna come along?”
“Jimmy,” the older man said in a warning tone.
“Oh, come on, pa. We cain’t just leave her here.”
“Oughter take her to the sheriff. She gotta report that rat bastard.”
The younger Jim stared for a moment at the older in disbelief.
“I didn’t say we would let him see us. Just drop her at the corner and she can walk to the station.”
“Now wait a minute, gentlemen,” Jill said. “The way things are in this country right now, I’m sure your sheriff has a lot more important things to do than talk to me. I can’t even give him a license number off the truck. No harm, no foul.”
Now both men stared at her, then glanced at each other. “Uh-huh,” said Big Jim slowly. “Well, I guess you kin come along with us if’n you like. You ever been duckin’?”
Jill shook her head.
“Well, we’ll show you how it’s done.”