The Collective

Chapter Three

     I met Ethan three years ago, at a gas station halfway between New Mexico and Colorado. I desperately needed new tires, but I kept putting it off. I hated getting new tires. You had to go to the place and sit in the room and wait and it smelled, and it was always so cold. One of my tires went flat about an hour and a half away from home. I couldn't get the spare out because the locking mechanism was stuck. I knew it was irrational to be afraid of dying in the parking lot at the hands of a serial killer, but I couldn't help it.

     Here came this guy in a pick-up truck, coated in mud. He pulled up next to me. I cringed, standing up straighter, willing him away. I scowled, determined to look tougher than I really felt because I was about to lose it.

     The driver side door opened, and this brown and black streak shot out. The dog sprinted around the small, grassy area off to the side. A guy in a white t-shirt and a baseball cap eased out of the cab like he didn't have a care in the world. He tipped his hat at me.

     "Matilda, come on. We're almost there and you can race around to your heart's content." The dog did one more lap before zooming back into the truck.

     This was my last chance. He had a dog. At least if I died, I could see a dog one last time. I took a step towards him. "Hi! Hey, I'm sorry. Could you help me change a tire? It's just, it's stuck, and I wouldn't ask, except, I can't get a hold of my parents."

     "Yeah, no problem. Where's the tire?" He pulled a pair of leather work gloves out of his glovebox because of course he did.

     "In my trunk. It's supposed to be more secure, but it's not opening." I already had the jack in place and the flat pulled off. I just needed the stupid tire.

     "It seems that the least of your worries. Your front's flat, too." He kicked it.

     I sank down. It was completely deflated. "Thanks anyway, but I think I'm stuck here!" My voice came out a little more manic than I meant it to.

     "I cannot, in good faith, let you stay here, alone. My grandmother would roll over in her grave. Tell you what, I'll take you as far as the city. And then, we can get you wherever you need to go." He seemed nice, but that didn't mean much.

     "My parents are there. That's as far as I wanted to go." I ignored the slight tremor in my hands. I would not lose it. "I think I'll just call them and wait for them to come." It's not like I hadn't already called them at least ten times, but whatever. "You've been very nice and all."

     "But you don't want to get into a car with a stranger. I respect that. It's gonna get dark soon. Tell you what," he pulled a battered flip phone from his pocket, "You can pick anyone in my contacts, and call them to ask about me, and if you still don't trust me, I'll leave. No harm, no foul."

     I nodded. I took it, but I didn't call anyone. What if they were all cannibals? One was more than enough. I gave it back. "Why are you doing this?" I wasn't expecting an answer.

     His expression darkened. "A friend of mine almost committed suicide a couple years ago. We were close, but I wasn't always the best at being there. So now, when I see a body in need, I make it my practice to stop and lend a hand."

     "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize." Even as I said it, I knew I couldn't have. But still.

     "It's alright. You ready? Matilda, scoot over. We have company." He opened the passenger side door.

     Matilda, a gorgeous German Rottweiler, leapt in the back. She rested her head on my chair, panting happily.

     "I didn't catch your name," I shouted, as the truck roared to life.