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There was no mistaking the heavy, musky scent of it. Charles would certainly notice this. She wondered with a surprising degree of detachment what he would do. Trent rapped his knuckles on the window, and she turned the key in the ignition so that she could lower it. For a long few seconds, he just stood there in silence, looking at her. Finally, he said, "You need to be more careful back here. Especially between mile 285 and 270. Understand?" She nodded. "I understand." "Good. Now put your headlights on and go home. Im not going to write you up this time, but you are starting to try my patience." She smiled. "Thank you." He smiled and shook his head. "Go on." He walked back to the cruiser. She listened to his footsteps on the gravel for a few moments before she started the car and slowly pulled out onto the interstate. After the first few miles, she lowered all the windows. She let the autumn wind finish Trents work, mussing her hair and whipping fiercely at her exposed skin until she arrived, safe and sound, in her garage.
Driving home from work at nearly two in the morning, Jen busied her mind with basic math. If she got home at three, she could be in bed at half past three, get three and a half hours of sleep, and be up at seven. Seven plus one hour to get ready would put her out of the house at eight and in the office at a little after nine. She would just have to survive on three and half hours of sleep. Jen had no trouble surviving a regular, eight-hour workday on less than five hours of sleep, but she hadnt had a regular workday in a long, long time. In fact, she had been averaging ten to twelve hours daily so far this month -- with non-stop work on the weekends. She had the whole interstate to herself. The dim dashboard lighting of her sensible car made a little cocoon around her. The headlights made a little cone of light just ahead, but this was what the crime documentaries liked to call "an isolated stretch of road." Awful things happened to people along the Isolated Stretch of Road, especially after midnight. Jen herself was unnerved by the very real temptation to close her dry and burning eyes for just a second. A while back, she had read a story in the news about a couple who had run off a similar Isolated Stretch of Road on another interstate. The crash had not killed them, but their injuries were severe enough that they could not get out of the car, which was invisible from the road. It had taken them long days to die. Typically, Jen rolled down all the windows, turned up her stereo and sang to the music for the duration of her hour-long drive. From time to time, she still wanted to close her eyes, just for a second, but she always survived to do it


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again another day. And there would always be another day, apparently. Jens boss had finally abandoned his half-hearted efforts to tell her she wouldnt have to do this much longer. There was no end in sight, he admitted. He had told her she was the only one in the group he could trust to get things right on this project, but she knew better. The truth was that she was the only one who would put up with the hours, the poor organization, and the near certainty that she would not be rewarded for this in any meaningful way. She reached blindly down in the dark to make sure that her cell phone was plugged in to the charger. Charles had insisted on a cell phone and a charger for her long commute. She had called him, of course, to say that she would be late again, although she didnt know why. The first time she was late, he had waited up for her. He had made all the right worried noises for about a week, even calling once on the cell phone while she was in the Isolated Stretch. The next week, he had fallen asleep on the couch, still dressed. On the night she had been so tempted to close her eyes, thinking of the couple trapped in their car, she had arrived at home to find him sound asleep in bed and the house in darkness. This time, when she had called, he had sounded asleep when he answered the phone. She had considered getting a hotel room just to spite him, just to see what he did if she really didnt turn up that night. But instead, she had dropped by the gas station for a bottle of Coke and headed dutifully for home. She reached over for her Coke now, resting on the edge of the console next to her passenger seat. The plastic bottle slipped from its perch onto the floorboard, out of her reach. She cursed at it, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to reach down for it. It was still cold from the gas station, and it bugged her that she should have paid for a Coke only to have it drop onto the floor untouched. She leaned over in the seat, glancing down at the floorboard, then up at the road. The car swayed toward the center line, then back again, pitching the bottle toward her fingertips, then away again. She cursed again, leaning over further, bringing the cool surface of the plastic bottle toward her, then away from her. The damned thing would probably be well-shaken by the time she got to it, she thought. She had almost closed her fingers around the neck of the bottle when she saw the flash of light illuminate the dark highway. It was a regular pulse of lightning blue. She wasnt alone back here after all. She straightened up in the drivers seat and carefully pulled onto the shoulder. When she