Inferno by Cara Bristol
Chapter Seven
Headed home after evening yoga class in Coeur d’Alene, Geneva was cruising along at sixty miles an hour when Wanda gave a sudden jerk and then began to slow. Fifty-five…fifty…forty-five. She pressed harder on the accelerator. What was going on? She couldn’t be running out of gas; the gauge pointed to half a tank. Forty... Thirty-five…
“No. No. Come on, Wanda, don’t do this,”she pleaded. “I’ve neglected you, but please, don’t die now.”
Honking cars zoomed past her. Before she stalled out, she swerved to the shoulder. Wanda rolled to a stop and died.
Great! Just great. Why now? In another month, she’d have the money for a complete overhaul—heck, she’d be able to buy a new car, which was probably what she should do. Getting rid of Wanda would be akin to giving away a pet, but the aging machine had multiple issues, and she should be practical. It would be much more economical in the long run to get a new car.
But first, she had to get Wanda off the highway! She put the vehicle into park and shut off the ignition. After switching on the blinking hazard lights, she reached for the phone in her purse. A tow truck would be another expense she didn’t have the money for! One more try.
Come on, Wanda, honey.She switched on the ignition. The car hesitated but then sputtered and wheezed to life. Geneva eased into drive and goosed the gas. Nothing. She switched to the lowest gear, pressed on the accelerator, and Wanda rolled forward, but as soon as she shifted to a higher gear, the car quit.
Geneva got her going again, and, nudging the speed to twenty miles per hour in the lowest gear, putted along the shoulder toward an intersection about a quarter mile ahead. If she took the back roads, she could get Wanda home and deal with the situation in the morning. Maybe somebody in town could give her a tow. If the car died along the way, then she would call for help.
At the intersection, after checking traffic, she crept across all the lanes to the side road. She’d logged about two miles at a snail’s pace, when Wanda gave up the ghost. Without so much as a shudder or a whine, she died. No amount of shifting, coaxing, or swearing could get her started again.
Geneva sat there in total darkness, silently cursing the situation. This is the second bad decision this week. One more, and I’ll have a complete set.
She never should have given Inferno false hope.
While Mandy Ellison had confirmed his story about the chicken-fried steak, Geneva could not date a man who proclaimed to be an alien. Every relationship went through ups and downs, but to start out on shaky ground would be asking for trouble. She’d gotten his phone number from Mandy but hadn’t found the nerve to call him. He wasn’t datable, but she hated to hurt his feelings. However, the longer she delayed, the worse it would be. She never should have allowed him to believe she’d consider seeing him. She’d known the answer was going to be no.
Sometimes being cruel at the start proved kinder in the long run.
She vowed to call him as soon as she got home. First, she had to get home.She dug out her phone to call a tow truck and squinted at the screen in disbelief. “No cell phone service? No!”
Shoving the car door open, she got out. Biting cold nipped at her. She stomped along the road, holding the phone high in the air to catch a signal. Nothing. Not a single bar.
She grabbed her coat from the car and shrugged it on. She’d have to hike to the highway and call for help, but, first, she had to push Wanda out of the road so nobody would plow into her in the dark.
She was returning to the vehicle when an eddy of warm wind whooshed by. What the heck was that?
She climbed into the car, put Wanda in neutral, cranked the wheels toward the shoulder, and then got out. Palms against the trunk, she pushed off with her legs and got the vehicle moving. Without streetlights, and only a crescent moon, it was near pitch black, and she couldn’t see anything. Hopefully she wasn’t pushing the car into a ditch.
“Geneva.” A voice rumbled out of the darkness.
She shrieked and stumbled away from the hulking black shape.
“It’s me, Inferno!” The country road lit up and revealed a familiar face.
“What are you doing here?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared the beejeezus out of me!”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. My brothers and I were returning from Seattle. I saw your vehicle had broken down.”
Thank goodness…whoa, wait a minute. How? Since leaving the main highway, she’d encountered no other vehicles. “How did you get here? Where’s your car?” She would have seen headlights.
“We rode our hover scooters. I signaled them to go on ahead, and I stopped to help you.”
“Hover scooter?” she repeated.
“Over there.” He motioned with the light to the roadway in front of her car. Resolute skepticism slammed into irrefutable fact. A winged vehicle sprawled in front of her car. A motorcycle-like seat could be straddled, but the curves and angles of the gleaming metal—was it even metal?—bore no relation to anything she’d ever seen outside of a science fiction movie. The vehicle resembled a spaceship rather than a scooter.
She dragged her stunned gaze to Inferno. Hatless, his horns stood out on his head, illuminated by his own body. Through his sleeves, his arms radiated light, fingers incandescing like glow sticks.
Her jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God. You are an alien.” Her ears roared, and a crawling sensation spread over her skin as the blood drained from her face. She swayed as her head spun, and then she felt herself falling. The world blacked out.