Big town country girl meets small town country life...
“Thanks!” I said again as I closed the door to the old Chevy truck.
I looked around and nothing looked at all familiar but that shouldn’t have been a surprise as I had never been here before. I pulled the old envelope from my back pocket and reread the return address. 4946 South Farm Rd. I sighed and shoved the letter back in my pocket after reading the corner street sign ‘Thornwood Are’ and deciding that it did little to help me. I was in the middle of a small dinky town that was barely bigger than my high school.
My duffle bag slid off my shoulder to the ground before I dug through it in search of the map I had shoved in there.
“Ah-ha!” I found it, opened it and scanned it in hopes of clues. The last highway that I drove off was, my finger trailed down the highway and found the exit I had taken. A few finger marks from there I knew my truck was stranded here after running out of gas. Unlike home there weren’t gas stations every mile. “Okay.” I said to myself shaking off the anger of having to leave my truck at a closed weigh station. Okay exit 38, my truck but… after that… my finger swirled over the map in lost circles. “Yeah.” I sighed, I was lost.
I pulled out my phone for plan B but was out of luck with my weak AT&T signal. So there went plan B.
Without a plan C I wondered down the street but at six at night in a small town there was nothing open and no one around. It also made the spur of the moment plan c, damsel in distress a no go. I started to get angry again but know deep down it was because I was starting to panic. My steps down the empty dark street quickened and my heart started to race. In the back of my mind hillbilly banjo music started to play.
“I knew it!” I hissed at myself angrily. “I’m going to be eaten by cannibalistic crazies!” I wasn’t going to admit it but I was running down the road now, the movie hype clouding my sane mind. It wasn’t until I saw the bus stop sign that I broke out in laughter. I was being crazy and now that a new plan was forming I was calming down. Surely there would be a bus here soon and the driver would be able to take me to tell me how to get to South Farm Rd where I could then get help to retrieve my truck.
Three hours later I was still waiting at the bus stop and it had started raining about forty-five minutes ago and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop. The overhang of the hardware store provided little to no protection to the now sideways falling rain. I sunk down and sat on my duffle the soggy sound of clothes telling me that nothing I owned was dry or warm. In fact everything I owned was cold and shivering and miserable.
“I want to go home.” I sighed kicking at a nearby rock. “4946 S Farm Rd…” I said to myself tired, weak, sleepy, cold, wet and every kind of miserable I could be. I looked up at the bus stop sign but there was nothing there. “Why do I think there isn’t a bus coming?”
“Buses don’t run on Sundays.” A voice called from the street.