Samantha's Secret: Book 3 (The Elvis Angel Series)

Chapter Three

                                                             CHAPTER THREE  

                As Samantha drove down a slightly congested Interstate 75, the skyscrapers of downtown Atlanta became smaller and smaller inside her rearview mirror. Not being able to see the city just over her shoulder, following her like some lost puppy, felt wrong to Sam.  Mostly because her experience with nature as of late had been, well, life threatening, but mainly because Sam was a city girl at heart.  Nothing made her happier than spending a day with a latte in hand, enjoying the chic boutiques and art galleries in the Castleberry Hill district downtown.  Later, she might even enjoy a bite at a local pub or take part in a street party along Elliott Street.  It didn't matter as long as where ever Sam went; the beautiful downtown skyline was within view.

              But, today, the city could only follow her so far. Today she had agreed to meet Jimmy at Fort Mountain state park in Chatsworth's Georgia, just north of Atlanta. And a drive that should have taken her 90 minutes was already on the second hour.  The skyscrapers of the city had long ago melted away and now only forestland stretched along the two-lane highway Sam traveled.

                She looked at the clock on the dash, and frowning, stepped on the gas. She was speeding--five miles over the limit to be exact--but she didn't care. And hitting cruise, she turned her mind from the road and back to the feeling of unease that had been with her since she made her escape from the suburbs over an hour ago.  She didn't know what to call it, though "it" seemed appropriate. And it felt as dark and substantial as a living presence.  In fact, it had seemingly sat down and buckled itself in for the ride, like some hitchhiker she'd picked up on the side of the road. It was here to stay, and thus good manners dictated she should have a chat with it, but that just sounded crazy. She didn't understand it, but the ample space in her car began to feel small and restricted.  Her chest felt tight and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

              She was officially all creeped out, and considering how she'd just beaten Heather at her own game, she should have been, "Frick-in ecstatic," she muttered. She should have been gloating, not fretting.

               Trying to focus on anything but "it," she looked again at the time. She didn't like making people wait. Maybe I should have warned Jimmy about my issues with the woods, she thought, then quickly pushed the idea aside. No. That would require far too much explaining, and she didn't think she could bare it. She had hoped things would be different once she got on the road. That she would find some hidden courage somewhere and zip right there, but--you wouldn't be late if you'd just taken the shortcut. That inner voice that wasn't God said. Sam scowled.

               The voice was right–there was a shortcut. She knew it well. Only it would require that she drive into the Blue Ridge Mountains, past the road to the cabin and the evil that had happened there last winter.  And that was far too close for comfort.

           "I'm doing this my way," Sam said firmly. Then as if to punctuate the thought, she pressed down on the gas and set the car to cruise, traveling 10 miles over the speed limit now.

             When she got another 20 miles down the road, she saw a sign that said, "Freeway ends--100 yards." She squinted at it, focusing on the distinct line where cement ended and gravel began.  This was it, she thought, the end of the line. From that point on, she would be in the woods.  Her heart pounded with the thought. And as the line drew closer, her eyes locked onto it as if it were the end of civilization, the jumping off point of the world.  Once you cross it, who knows what happens.  Sam didn't want to find out.