Red Snow by Christine Sutton Page A

the first day back from rehab, her mother had brought a bottle of vodka home and left it on the kitchen table. Kayla had wanted to drink it so badly, but she hadn't touched it. Her mom had seemed disappointed.
    Shaking herself out of her memories and self-pity, she turned her thoughts to David. The pair had met in rehab. Her choices were booze and pills. He was too fond of alcohol and cocaine. Fraternizing was frowned upon at Misty Meadows, but they had talked every day. A bond formed that was only strengthened by their mutual struggles. By the time they were released from the center, they had fallen in love. That love had carried them through trying to find jobs and getting settled back into living lives unencumbered by addiction. It sounded cliché, but they had saved each other.
    A sign read, 'Please turn on your headlights'. She flipped hers on, realizing that she hadn't even seen a car on the highway since she left Barstow.
    As if the universe had been eavesdropping on her inner conversation, she suddenly saw headlights in the distance behind her. Up and over hills and valleys, the vehicle was coming up on her bumper fast. Too fast as a matter of fact.  It cleared the distance between them in what seemed like seconds. As the midnight black Impala barreled up behind her, the chrome skull gleamed, and she said a little prayer that it would just pass on by.
    "Please, please, please ."
    As if God was really listening, the car swerved around her and passed on the left side. As the Impala rumbled past the driver's side window, Kayla tried to take a peek in at the driver, without looking too conspicuous. What she saw took her by surprise. She saw, nothing . The windows were tinted a dark black, almost the same shade as the car itself. Even beyond the tinting, there was no shadow of a driver in front of the bright sunlight like there should have been.
    Dismissing the lack of a driver as a trick of the tinting, she continued on her way, keeping the red Stingray right at sixty-five. After thoroughly rationalizing what she had seen, she turned the radio up and began singing along to The Eagles. After a few more miles, the soda she had with dinner started to catch up with her. She had such a weak bladder, it was almost ridiculous. There was a sign indicating a rest stop two miles ahead and she pushed the accelerator a little further to insure she made it there in time. As The Moody Blues sang about Nights in White Satin, the rest stop shimmered into view.
    Pulling in to the circular drive, the vending machines that sat in front of the small block building glowed in the now dusky twilight.
    "I could really use a Snickers." Kayla laughed. "Because Snickers satisfies!" She sang to the empty car.
    Parking in the spot closest to the building, she hopped out of the red sports car and made a dash for the bathrooms. When she got inside, it was as she expected. The concrete floors were damp with who-knows-what, the single sink had rust and dried soap all around the rim, and the mirror had more names and hearts scratched into it than it did actual reflection. Gingerly padding over to the open stall that housed the toilet, she expected the worst, but was somewhat surprised. It was actually not that bad, she thought as she covered the seat with strips of toilet paper to guard against germs. She relieved herself with a contented sigh.
    The deep rumble of an engine jolted her from her urinary euphoria. She quickly finished and washed her hands. As she walked to the door and stepped out, she couldn't believe her eyes. There sat the black Impala with the chrome skull staring back at her in the twilight. She ducked back into the bathroom and pressed her back against the cinderblock wall, hoping that the driver had not seen her. The door of the car creaked open and she heard what sounded like boots crunching the gravel beneath them.
    Step, step, step.
    Heels clicking on the sidewalk now, approaching the restrooms. As the unseen driver approached the