Ill Wind

Going, going… gone.

My phone rang. I flipped it open.

"Nice," Paul said.

"You, too."

"I can't change my mind, kid. Don't come back."

"I didn't think you would," I said. "Don't worry. I'm not your problem anymore."

Paul chuckled, a sound that left me warm inside. "That'll be the day."

I had just hung up the car phone when the first microburst slammed into the car with the speed of a bullet train and knocked me off the road. I fought the wheel, heard the Mustang scream as it grabbed for traction, but the road might as well have been ice and oil. I skidded. The world lurched. And oh, God, there was somebody in the way, somebody standing by the side of the road, I was going to hit him….

I spun out in a spray of dust, felt a dull thump of impact. My tires caught the grassy edge of the shoulder, and physics took over, giving the car a sickening tilt.

Not the car, I thought in utter despair. Please, not the car.

And then something caught me and steadied me, and Delilah thumped four tires back on the ground. I had the breath knocked out of me, but apart from some tread loss, neither one of us had been hurt much. Delilah was shaking all over. So was I.

I turned off the engine and put my burning forehead on the steering wheel and gulped in air that tasted now as much of fear as of all the old ghosts of fast food, but it was still delicious.

"Sorry, baby," I whispered to Delilah. "Thought we were both headed for the junkyard."

It took me a second to remember the rest of it. The dull thump of impact.

Oh, Jesus, I'd hit somebody….

I fumbled with the seat belt, frantic. Oh, God, no— let him be okay….

Somebody tapped on the window. I gave myself whiplash coming around to stare, and saw a shadow… large, dark, and threatening. I sucked in breath to scream.

I blinked, and the shadow resolved into just—a guy. A guy with brown hair that needed trimming and some silly-looking round glasses that reflected blazing sunlight. A nice face, with smile lines around the eyes that said he was older than first glance would take him for. He was wearing a patched olive-green trench coat that for some reason reminded me of World War I—a vintage clothing enthusiast, or somebody who could afford only Salvation Army couture.

I rolled down the window.

"You okay?" he asked, and adjusted a backpack on his shoulder. Oh. I got it. He was a road dude, somebody who walked for a living, hitching when possible. Homeless by choice, maybe, instead of circumstance. A guy in search of adventure.

Well, he'd sure as hell found it this time.

"Fine. I'm fine," I croaked, and dragged lank, oily hair back from my face. "You're okay? I didn't hit you? No tire tracks on you or anything?"

He shook his head. An earring glinted. I tried to remember which ear meant he was gay, and then doubted myself; the earring thing might be an urban legend. I concluded it was either bullshit or the glint was in the heterosexual ear, because he smiled at me in a warmly nonacademic way.

"So, can you believe this weather? Some crazy stuff going on," he said. I could imagine… a cloud levitating with the speed of a freight train, straight up, then blowing apart like God himself had smashed it to pieces. Plus Delilah roaring along at top speed and spi

I hoped the we was a generic kind of thing, not a hello-I'll-be-your-stalker-this-evening warning sign. "Gee, bad weather? I didn't notice."

He hitched the backpack again, as if it were giving him some trouble, and nodded as he straightened up. "Well, be careful. Too nice a car to end up in some ditch. Not to mention too nice a lady."

Gallant, but he was a genuine guy—he'd put the car first. Somehow, that won me over. I wasn't getting any weird vibes from him, and even the company of some dude smoking grass and getting as one with nature might be better than talking to my car on a hell-drive like this. He even had a nice smile.

I looked at him in Oversight, just to be sure, but there was nothing special about him, nothing dark, nothing bright, nothing but plain old Joe Normal. I opened the passenger door and said, "Need a ride?"

He stopped walking away and looked at me. He had really dark eyes, but dark in a warm, earthy kind of way. If he were a season, he'd be fall.

"Maybe," he said. "Pack's getting kind of heavy. What's the price?"

"Nothing."

His eyebrows twitched like he thought about raising them. "Nothing's for nothing."

"Pleasure of your company."

"That can be taken a couple of ways," he said, and shrugged off the pack. It fit into the backseat like a second passenger. He didn't need as much leg room as Paul. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

I felt strongly that that should offend me. "You really think I look like a chick who'd pick up some skanky guy on the side of the road?"

"No," he said with a sly, Zen-like calm. "And just for clarification, I take exception to the skanky. I have had a bath."

I waited until he'd strapped himself in safely before Delilah rolled again. Sunlight flickered through trees, tiger-striping the road. A gentle west-to-east breeze rustled leaves. I hadn't closed my window, and the smooth, cool scented air blew my hair back from my face. It felt good on my flushed skin.

"Not skanky," I agreed finally. "Rough?"

"You think I look rough?"

"Maybe a little grubby."

"I'll accept grubby."

When I looked over, he chuckled. I laughed, caught the edge of my hysteria, and blamed it on exhaustion and fear. I caught my breath and wiped my face.

He said, "My name's David, by the way."

"Joa

"How long have you been on the road?"

"Isn't that my line?" I asked him. "I think it's been about thirty-six hours, but I'm really not too sure anymore."

"Any sleep?"

"Not so much."

"I guess you know it's not safe to drive like that."

"Safer than stopping," I said, and then wondered why I had; I don't confide, especially not in normal, mundane people. David nodded and looked out the window. "So how long have you been on the road?"

"A while now. I like it. It's beautiful out there." He nodded toward the other side of the glass, where things were whipping by at Mustang speed. "Everybody should get out in the world for a while, just so they know who they are, and why."

It sounded philosophical and New Agey to me, but hey, I freely admit I'm cynical. "Thanks, I'll take indoor plumbing, cooked food, and reliable heating any time. Nature's great. I just don't think she likes us very much."

"She likes us fine," David replied. "But she doesn't stack the deck for one side or the other, and we seem to think she should. Cockroaches get the same shots as humans, in her view. And I think that's fair."

"I'm not about fair. I'm about wi

"Nobody wins," he said. "Or don't you watch the Discovery Cha

"More of a Comedy Central fan, myself. And don't tell me that you've got a cabin with cable stashed in your backpack."

He out and out gri