Vanessa Taylor, a sassy blue haired, tattooed cosmetologist with a mouth of a sailor was born and raised in Ohio. One summer while she was visiting her sick father, her connecting flight ends in the city getting shut down, leaving her stranded in th...
I glance over to Shane, watching him observe me as I try to formulate an answer for Rick. Something about Shane and the gleam in his dark eyes doesn't sit right with me. I've dated a guy with the same look, and it ended with me in therapy for years. That's not even mentioning the extended hospital stay.
Then there's Daryl. The man with the bright blue eyes and crossbow. There's something about him that makes me trust him a bit more than I'd ever trust Shane. He certainly has spiked my interest. Knowing my luck, that's not a good thing. I cock my head at him, eying him up and down. The air around him was intense, but nothing alarming; nothing screaming at me to get out. He's scrutinizing with me without looking at me in the face. His body is partially angled away from me. That tells me he's insecure about something. Or he's hurting.
At my silence, Shane adds, "that night you mentioned that you had to get home. You clearly didn't get far. I think you really should take the offer. Considering it's the second time that it's placed on the table."
"Okay," I nod reluctantly; not sure what I'm getting myself into.
Content with my answer, Rick turns his attention to Shane, "you and Glenn take Vanessa and get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking. Let them know we're on her trail doing everything we can. But most of all, keep everybody calm."
"I'll keep 'em busy scavenging cars. Think up a few other chores. I'll keep 'em occupied. Come on." Shane acknowledges the orders. I peer between them, watching this interaction.
"Time to meet the rest of us, girl." Glenn looks at me, with a small smile on his face. I swallow my nerves, following their lead.
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We emerge from the woods, the little girl's mother questions if they had any success. Her graying hair that was cut close to the scalp. Her pretty eyes are rimmed in red as if she's been crying. I briefly remember hearing her and her husband speak with each other from that night.
I had a client back home that she reminded me of. Her name was Mary Ann. She had long beautiful blonde hair. One day during one of our appointments, she had asked me to shave her hair completely off. Her husband would get drunk and beat her senseless. She wanted to give him one less way to hurt her. I know how hard it is to leave that type of situation alive. Being a hairstylist, I know more about my client's personal lives than a lot of people in their inner circle. You learn how to read people quickly.
I haven't seen her since that day. I hope she's okay.
"Daryl's ls on it. He's the best tracker we have," Shane reassures the older lady. She sniffles, bobs her head at him, walking away. I look down at my boots, not beginning to understand the fear she's feeling.
"Who the hell is that?" A girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a bad attitude points her finger at me.
"I'm -" I stutter, surprise dances through me, not liking the attention being drawn to me. Though, it was only a matter of time before they took notice.
