"Oh. Um, are you planning to retire down in Mexico? It's real sunny down there." I smiled, and she met my gaze, one dark brow raised, then she turned back to the road, bursting into laughter.
"Nice try, Ginny. I'm not telling you a damn thing. Mexico. Sheesh." She rolled down her window, absently plucking the half-empty pack of cigarettes from her shirt.
"No smoking in my car." I said, brows drawn. She looked at me as though I had three heads.
"What'd you say?" she drawled.
"Look, if you're not going to kill me then I don't want to die from your damn second-hand smoke." I was adamant. To my eternal gratitude, and relief, she pocketed her lighter, and chewed on the cigarette. Wrinkling my nose, I turned away. As long as she didn't light up, I didn't care how she got her nicotine.
Ronald Stone after reading a passage from my novel. "Your heroine certainly does have some guts."
"Of course." I grinned and looked out over the audience. Some people looked bored out of their minds, and some hung on our every word. I was an interesting dichotomy. Many of the audience members held books of their own in their hands, which didn't surprise me. I'd agreed to a book signing after the taping. I looked forward to that part, as I always loved meeting and talking to my fans. It made me feel good that another human being could enjoy what I loved so dearly, and what meant so much to me to create.
"I suppose young Ginny wasn't too worried about the consequences of such demands?" Ronald asked, raising a brow.
"Well, I just think at that point she was tired of having her entire life taken over, and wanted to exert a bit of control herself."
"Risky move."
"Indeed."
My head was rolling against the headrest, lulling side to side as I drifted in and out of sleep, which was tumultuous at best. The dreamscape was riddled with horrid images and fears, startling me awake again and again. Finally, pushing myself up fully in the seat, I gave up. Looking around, slightly disoriented, I saw Hopper was chewing on another cigarette, then bobbed it around with her tongue, her complete attention on the road. It was raining cats and dogs, the windshield wipers going at lightning speed to try and keep up.

Running my hands over my ponytail, I felt that it was in total disarray. Tugging at the hair tie, I stuck it between my teeth, re-gathering the long locks, trying to put it into some semblance of order.
"Where are we?" I asked, twisting my hair back through the tie.
"In the middle of a pissing contest between God and Father Winter, I think. We've hit rain, sunshine and snow in large quantities in the last hour." Hopper said, slowly breaking to a stop behind a big rig, all lights and splendor.
"Oh." I had to look at the dash clock as it was completely dark, now. Apparently we would be driving through the night. "Can we stop for a pee break soon? And maybe an eating break, too?" Hopper glanced over at me, her features lit up for a moment as we passed under an orange-hued street light, then turned back to the road.
"I guess. What do you want? We've got all the regular artery clogging factories," she pointed to a sign coming up advertising that there was a McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's and some place called Big Al's just off the next ramp.
I sighed, grimacing at the possibilities. "Whatever will kill me slowest." I heard a low chuckle next to me, and sweat automatically sprung out under my arms. Swallowing hard, I squeaked, yes I squeaked, okay? "Uh, Burger King is fine."
$$$
The motel room was much like the one we stayed at last night- bathroom, crappy furniture with even crappier art work, and one bed. Unzipping my coat, I threw it to the bed, listening as Hopper walked past me toward the bathroom.
"Hopper?" I didn't look at her, afraid.
"What?" She paused at the door, hand on the frame.
"I need to go see my sister."
"No."
My head jerked up, eyes narrowing as the anger began to build. "Yes."
"No. Forget it." She disappeared into the tiny bathroom, and I marched right on after her.
"Who the fuck are you, Hopper!?" I demanded, watching as she unloaded some stuff from a plastic grocery bag- toothbrush, toothpaste, etc. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I'm the one in control, Ginny. Get used to it." She said, voice calm, attention still focused on her task.
"Bullshit! You're the one who came into my apartment, my life, making your fucking demands while waving your gun around. This is my trip! Get your own!" I stomped back over to the bed, grabbed my jacket, and slung it on, cursing as I realized my right arm was twisted.
"How dare you talk to me like that," Hopper's voice was low and dangerous, her eyes boring into me as she stared at me from across the bed. Getting my jacket fixed, I looked at her, beyond caring at the moment.
"Maybe if you'd stay out of trouble you wouldn't have to steal other people's lives." Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. As soon as it was out of my mouth, even if I hadn't seen the murderous glint in those eyes, I would have known that was a hugely bad thing.
Before I could utter anther thought, I found myself slammed against the door of the room, breath forced out of my lungs, and a forearm crushing against my windpipe. Hopper's face was mere inches from mine, her white teeth bared like a crazed animal.
"You are not a smart woman," she hissed, her hold getting even tighter. I squeezed my eyes shut, hands tugging uselessly at the crushing arm, trying desperately to get air.
"I can't," I tried to gasp, but the hold was making my head pound, my vision go black around the edges.
"I don't need to wave a gun around to get my way. Got it?" Blue eyes were beginning to swirl in and out of focus. Suddenly the pressure was gone, and I fell to the floor with a solid thud, jarring my entire skeletal structure. Taking several deep breaths, I finally opened my eyes, my hand wandering up to my throat. Hopper had disappeared back into the bathroom, though I could see a bit of her reflection in the mirror. Her head was down, hair mostly covering her face. I had no idea what she was doing.
Slowly, and very unsteadily, I got to my feet, moving everything, making sure it all worked. My coat hung off me, and I shrugged it on, trying to decide what to do. I looked around the room, trying to see if I could see some sort of weapon, or even the 9mm, which I'd never used in my life. As per usual, she had unplugged the phone as soon as we'd gotten into the room, the handset in the bathroom with her, as well as confiscating my cell phone back at the apartment.
Then I remembered my pocket knife.
Reaching back, I felt the bump against my butt, keeping my eyes on that reflection, I pulled the knife out slowly, trying not to make any sound. I swallowed, wondering it would be considered self-defense. The blade flicked out of its body, the sharp blade

grazing across my jeans. I tucked it up inside the sleeve of my jacket, hand sweaty as it gripped the handle tighter as I made my way toward the bathroom.
As I got closer the sink faucet came to life, Hopper bending down to splash her face. I took that as my chance, and brought the blade out, pressing it against the shirt that covered her side, just beneath her ribcage.
She stopped mid-splash, slowly standing.
"Don't do anything stupid, Hopper. I'm warning you." I was angry that I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice, but I held strong.
"What will you do?" she asked, her eyes glancing down at the blade, then into my eyes.
"I'll stab you, what do you think?" I pushed the blade a bit, just enough for her to feel the sting of the tip.
"You don't want to do that, Ginny."
"Yes I do. Unless you let me go."
Hopper sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, then with one swift movement, I was on the floor looking up at a very pissed off brunette, standing over me with a very familiar-looking pocket knife in hand.
"Please stop for one night, Ginny. I'm tired and irritable. I don't want to do something I'll regret."
I looked up at her, surprised at her words, and seeing just how weary she was in those piercing eyes. Without a word, I nodded, and she extended her hand down. Knowing I didn't stand a chance like this, I took it, and was helped to my feet.
As like the night before, Hopper took up post in a chair, and I in the bed. I huddled around myself as far from her as I could get, and cried myself to sleep.
Ronald Stone re-crossed his legs, and I knew this was allowing him time to formulate a question in his mind. Finally he spoke, running his fingers down the perfect crease in his trousers.
"Now, Virginia, you've created a bit of an aggressive character in Hopper, wouldn't you say?" He cocked his head to the side a bit, his days as a news journalist coming back in his mannerisms.
"She's a criminal who has lived life as a criminal. Of course there's going to be some aggression there." I answered, a smile fixated on my lips.

"This is true, however you've said that you wanted to try and break chains and stereotypes with this work. Having Hopper be a violent criminal, holding some innocent woman against her will, sometimes by means of said violence, is feeding into the idea of a criminal."
"Yes, but if we're honest here, Ronald, criminals, especially those who have just committed a crime and are on the run, are going to be somewhat desperate, and desperate measures ... well, you know the saying."
"True,"
"And, when you've got someone there who can identify you to the police, bring you down, ruin your plan of desperation, whatever, you're going to react accordingly." I continued.
"So you're condoning Hopper's actions toward Ginny?"
"No. I'm saying every action has a reason. People don't stop to look behind the action and see why it's being done. What Hopper did was wrong, I'm not here to say any different. What I am here to say is that right or wrong, she had her reasons."
The room was empty when I woke, the sun just starting to fall. I looked around, stopping immediately when a pain shot through my back. Slowly, oh so slowly, I pulled the covers off me, still fully clothed, and put my feet on the floor. There was a bag from Burger King sitting on the scarred dresser, a drink cup sitting next to it with a wrapped straw balanced on the plastic lid.
Fists flat on the mattress on either side of my legs, I put my weight on them and rolled my shoulder, grimacing at the soreness. Standing fully, I stretched, hearing things pop that I wasn't sure were supposed to pop, but I did feel better for it.
The food smelled so good, and the bag was warm, so I figured Hopper hadn't dropped it off long ago. From the smell of cigarette smoke curling up under the door, I knew she was outside. I didn't know what my time frame was, but I was hungry and planned to take my time eating. Moving over to the table near the window, I glanced out to see my capture laying on the hood of the car, back against the windshield, cigarette dangling from fingertips that dangled off the side of the hood. She was staring up into the darkening heavens.
I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about. Was she scared at all? Did she worry about being caught? Where was she taking me, and what was her plan?
As though she had heard my thoughts, blue eyes flicked my way, catching me staring. I held her gaze for as long as I dared, then turned to my dinner.
The door to the room opened, and with a stronger whiff of smoke, Hopper entered. I didn't look up, but could feel her presence close by. Slyly glancing over, I could see she had sat down on the unmade bed, reclining back against the headboard, much as she had

been my car.
"Did you sleep okay?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. I thought about that question as I munched on a fry, and finally nodded. We were both silent, my brain spinning a thousand questions. Finally one came to the surface, standing out from all the others, and one I felt I had a right to know.
"Have you ever killed anyone before, Hopper?" Garnering the courage, I looked up and over at her. She looked at me, eyes falling to my neck, and quickly looking away. Self-conscious, I brought my hand up, covering the skin that I realized was bruised.
"Yes." Her eyes met mine again, then dropped. My heart thudded double-time against my chest, painful. Taking several deep breaths, I asked what happened. Sighing, she readjusted on the bed, getting more comfortable, bringing a leg up and resting her rest on the knee. "When I was sixteen I was dating this guy, Austin. He was a bum, and I wanted to be a bum, so we got hold of a gun, a little pistol of some sort. I don't even remember now where. Anyway, so we go into a convenience store in Denver, where I grew up, and robbed it. It was late, not too many people around, a lady and the clerk."

When she didn't continue, dinner forgotten, I turned in the chair, leaning on my thighs, I looked at her. "And?"
"And we got the money. It was something stupid like eighty dollars. We planned to buy some crack with it. I'm ready to go, got my thrill, wanted to get high. Austin wanted me to shoot the clerk."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Who knows. Power. Make sure I couldn't turn on him. I've never figured it out. So anyway, I said no, not a chance. Austin got pissed and we began to argue, which was stupid, cause the cops were on their way- we could hear the sirens. I still said no, and Austin still insisted. Finally he said 'fuck it,' reached for the gun, which I tried to pull away from him. We started to fight over it, his hands on my wrist at the moment that I got jarred and pulled the trigger." Hopper looked down, chin nearly resting on her chest. "The kid went down like a ton of bricks- BAM!" she clapped her hands, startling me.
"Is that why your nickname is Bull's Eye?" I whispered. She nodded, then threw her legs off the bed, standing and storming over to the door.
"And don't even think about trying to use this shit against me with the cops. I've done my time." The door slammed, leaving me alone to wallow in my thoughts. And wallow I did. If she killed once, even if it were accidental, does that mean she could do it again? She had come pretty close earlier in the day. That thought in mind, I stood from the chair and headed over to the mirror that hung on the wall above the dresser.

A small gasp escaped my throat as I saw what had turned Hopper's eyes away. An angry looking bruise started just below my chin, light in color, but growing darker the further down it went, disappearing into the collar of my shirt. Pushing that aside, I winced when I saw it at its blackest point.
Anger renewed, I gritted my teeth, making my way into the bathroom for a shower. Other bruises littered my body in various places, mainly on my back where I'd been slammed into the door, then where I'd fallen on the floor. I scrubbed at those parts, even though it hurt like hell, trying to wash off what felt like a violation of my spirit, as well as the bruising of my skin.
Skin red, burning and my body sore, I turned off the double faucet and stepped out onto the towel I'd laid out on the cold, bathroom tile.
So she'd killed before. She had been sixteen. How long ago had that been? What did she mean she'd done her time? In prison? Why did she get so pissed off?
More questions. Unending and mostly unanswered.
The car was packed and Hopper was waiting behind the wheel, tapping her fingers against the wheel to the beat of a song on the radio. I slid in beside her, buckled up and got ready for another long night of driving.
"Hopper?"
"Yeah?" she asked, backing out of the space.
"Whatever happened to Austin?"
"We broke up."
"Oh."
$$$
Morning was dawning as we passed through the borders of the south east corner of South Dakota, heading right into Nebraska. The sky all around us was turning a brilliant pink and orange, making everything glow. I was hypnotized.
"When I was growing up in Colorado, back when we were still in Rifle, which is essentially bum fuck, there was nothing for miles but farmland. I'd get up early to help my dad with the farm, early as in before the sun rose, and then as it was rising, I'd run out to the middle of the alfalfa field in the western corner of our land, and just spread out my arms, letting the suns morning warmth engulf me."

I looked over at Hopper, seeing the soft smile that raised the corner of her lips, memories playing out over her face like a wonderful movie. She continued.
"Once in a great while, when he wasn't hurting, my dad would join me, then he'd pick me up and stick me on his shoulders and we'd watch the day come alive together."
"Where is he now?"
"He died when I was thirteen."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thanks." She smiled at me, and I smiled back.
The morning spread before us, a few cars on the road passing or being passed. We'd laugh at some of the cars with passengers asleep in various positions. The best was the kid, probably nine or ten, who had his entire face smooshed against the glass, mouth open, a little foggy spot at the center of it.
"I thought you didn't have anyone." Hopper finally said, about two hours later. Confused, I looked at her.
"What?"
"When I asked you at your apartment if you had anyone to say goodbye to, you said no. But then you said you wanted to visit your sister. Which is it?"
"Oh. No, there's no one." I looked out of my passenger window, watching the passing, often snow-covered, landscape.
"Wait, I'm confused."
I sighed. "When I was ten my sister Cora was coming home from a date. She was seventeen, and my hero." I smiled at the memory. "Anyway, the guy parked the car across the street so my parents couldn't see them making out as easy." I heard a soft chuckle next to me. "When she finally got out of the car, she was walking across the street toward the house, and around the corner came a truck full of three boys, not a driver's license among them. Cora landed ninety-six feet from the point of impact."
Hopper whistled through her teeth. "Jeez, that's terrible."
"Yep."
"Where is she now?" Hopper asked, turning her turn signal on to catch an off-ramp.
"Missouri. Where are you going?"

"I have to pee."
The rest stop was basically empty. A lone rig was parked out of the way, engine off, lights all on. I figured the driver was probably getting some shut-eye. The bathroom were housed in a squat brick building, men and women separated by a Coke and Pepsi machine.
"Come on." Hopper said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
"I don't have need to go."
She looked at me, then sighed. "Look, either you come with me, or you get cuffed to the seat again. Your choice."
"What if I promise not to go anywhere?" I asked, brows raised with hope. She snorted.
"Yeah, after last night, I don't think so."
Remembering the fear and pain from the night before, my hand absently raised to my neck, and I nodded, unbuckling my seatbelt as well.
The place stunk, as most do. Used and unused toilet paper littered the three stalls, each with walls that were smudged stainless steel. I decided I might as well go, as who knows when we'd stop again. Holding myself up, not daring letting the skin of my tush.
"Thanks for dinner, by the way," I said as we stood side by side, washing our hands. Hopper nodded.
"Can't have you fainting dead away on me, now can I? You're enough trouble alive and well." She grinned, and I glared, making her laugh as she made her way out of the bathroom into the early morning sunshine. I followed, grinning at the playful exchange, when the wind was knocked out of me, my back once again slammed against something very hard. My arms were grabbed and put up around a neck, my hands suddenly thrust into soft, thick hair. The heat of a body was against mine, breasts, surprising soft, squishing mine. But what surprised me the most was the mouth that was covering mine.
At first I struggled, trying to push her away, but then, for reasons I'll never know, I gave in to it. Perhaps it was the need of human contact after feeling so afraid and isolated over the previous days. Who knows. But I responded. My hands went back to that soft, thick hair, and my fingers found various paths through it, feeling the heat of the skin beneath. Her lips were so soft as they moved against mine.
Her arms, which had been around my shoulders, slipped down to my lower back, gently pulling me away from the hard, cold brick, and into her. She was surprisingly gentle, and I ate it up.

"Ladies."
I was stunned to hear a male's voice, and peeked an eye open, seeing a uniformed officer walking by us, toward the men's room. His tone was two-fold- "Good day to you," and "Take it somewhere else."
As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom, Hopper began to slowly disengage, nipping at my bottom lip as she did. She took a quick step back, as though she were just waking from a daze, and I fell back against the wall, grimacing as it smacked, yet again, against my new bruises.
"I'm, uh, I had," Hopper cleared her throat, then turned. "Let's go. And quickly."
Finally getting myself out of my funk, I followed after her, Hopper's much longer strides eating up distance that two of my own did. There was a police car in the parking lot, not far from mine. I felt panicked, as though the officer would catch Hopper.
WHAT!!??
I'd have to think about that one later. However, for the moment, I looked in the side mirror and saw the officer step out onto the sidewalk in front of the small building, and pull out a notepad. He was writing down my license plate number.
We drove on, both of us shaken. For me, the cop was the least of it. I glanced over at Hopper often, her eyes never meeting mine, then I looked out the window, hand reaching up for my fingers to brush against my own lips. I now knew why she had done it- she had seen the cop as she left the restroom, and figured us kissing would cause a lot less attention than either jumping back into the bathroom or taking off. But still ....
Why had my ex, Jason, never kissed me like that? But then again, he and I had never had to kiss in such a heated, intense moment, either. I imagine the adrenaline in my own body had created even more endorphins than that kiss actually had.
I guess.
I was fighting with myself on whether I should tell her that the cop had my plate number, and thus was obviously suspicious, or keep it to myself. After all, if they caught up to us, my ordeal would be over and I could go home, safe and sound. But then what? Why hadn't I alerted the cop at the truck stop when I'd seen him?
I was confused. Maybe it was Stockholm's Syndrome. Me and Patty Hearst could swap stories.
"And we're clear."

Ronald Stone stood, stretching his back and arms, then began talking to one of the producers.
"Um, Miss Kelly?"
I turned, seeing a woman from the audience had moved to the base of the stage.
"Yes?" I smiled at her, turning my body to face her.
"Um, well, I just wanted you to know that my mother, who has been a big fan of your writing for years, just had a stroke, and while she was in the hospital, before she died, I sat with her and read 'Eight Days In October' to her. I'll never really know if she actually heard me, you know how it is, but for me, and I'd never read your work," the woman blushed at the admission, and I smiled, "it really changed my life. Such a beautifully written, well thought out story. And the lessons we can learn as women! And in general, I suppose. Like for men, too. Just on human strength, and what can be overcome." She finished, almost out of breath from her long prattling. I thought she was adorable, so unsure. "It was really great, and I just wanted to thank you for writing it. It got me through the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with."
I was stunned and completely touched. "What a wonderful thing to say." I stood, making sure my microphone pack hooked to my belt, was still attached, and walked over to the woman. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother's death. I know how difficult that can be." I took the woman in a warm embrace, feeling her relax against me. "Thank you for sharing your story with me."
We parted, and the woman shuffled her feet. "No, thank you for sharing your story with us. It's an honor to meet you."
"You, too, dear. Take care of yourself."
"And back in five!" The producer scurried to her position near one of the cameras, and the woman quickly bounded back up to her place in the audience, and I to my own seat on stage.
I did a series of jumping jacks when we got to the hotel, a fairly nice place this time, with room service. My body was aching from the long hours sitting and lack of exercise.
"Oh," Hopper said, flipping through the little brochure provided. "This place has a hot tub and gym." She flipped the page. "Twenty-four hour room service,"
"Gee, Miss Money Bucks, why don't you shell it out for places like this more often?" I asked with a grunt, running place. She rolled her eyes, tossing the brochure aside. "So, um," I started, rocking on my heels. "can I use the hot tub?"

"Why wouldn't you?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the one of the beds, yep two this time, and began to untie her boots.
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe cause you dog my every step, and I wasn't sure if you'd be interested in babysitting or not." I stood there, hand on hip, daring her to dispute me. She smiled ruefully, looked back down to her laces.
"Yes. Enjoy yourself." She paused for a moment, then, "I'm sure a good soak would do you good." She stood, grabbing a small bag she'd picked up at a store, which held all her personals. "Gonna take a shower."
I dug out the most opaque pair of underwear and bra I had with me, and quickly changed into it, listening for the water in the bathroom. It went on and on, so I knew I wouldn't be interrupted when I stood there naked. That was the last thing I needed after that morning.
Slipping my regular clothes back over my make-shift swimsuit, I realized I needed a towel. Chewing on a fingernail, I looked around to see if just maybe there was one laying around the room somewhere. Yeah, right. My eyes found the bathroom again, the door closed. I tried to remember if I had heard the lock engage or not. Deciding to try, I tested the knob. It turned, and the door opened just a smidge. Waiting to see if Hopper had noticed, I stepped inside the smallish room, trying to avoid looking toward the shower at all, and seeing my capture's clothes folded neatly on the lid of the toilet. That surprised me for some reason. Not sure what I expected- perhaps for them to be thrown carelessly around the room?
I stopped, frozen, when I heard a beautiful, velvety voice begin to sing "Me And Bobby McGee" by Janice Joplin. I listened, hand lying on the stack of towels on the rack above the toilet. Her voice was so clear, carrying beautifully in the acoustics of a shower stall. Suddenly she stopped, and I figured it was time for me to get the hell out of there.
$$$
The warmth from the hot tub washed over and through me, making me close my eyes, lean my head back against the little bump outs for just that purpose, and basically purr like a kitten. I had taken a swim first to further stretch out my legs and arms, and the contrast from the cool pool water to this was striking, and made the tub an even higher notch of bliss.
I tried to close off my mind, not wanting to think of the situation I was stuck in, or the amazing amount of danger. Even so, I couldn't help but think of that officer who had written down the plate number. Did he call it in? Surely he had. Now they knew that it was my car, and probably wondered if it were indeed me who was with Hopper. Where had all that money come from? What had she done, and had anyone been hurt or had to die in the process?

She was such a bag of contradictions. I had no doubt, and had in fact been quite privy to, her violent nature. I knew as sure as I knew my own name that Hopper could kill someone with her bare hands. I think the gun was simply a formality or convenience. Someone is more likely to listen if they've got a gun pointed at their face as opposed to someone threatening to karate chop them to death. I also wondered, not for the first time, how old was she? What was her real name?
Finally getting my brain to shut down and let me relax, I settled further down into the water, letting it bubble ad gurgle all around me, wrapping me in a warm cocoon of safety and comfort.
The sounds around me began to fade, the kids playing in the pool no longer existed as I drifted, weightless and untouchable. Freedom. A field before me, skies above, birds taking flight and a wild stallion in the distance. I saw me without really seeing anything at all. My eyes weren't necessary, yet they took in everything. The bright colors of the surrounding flowers, swaying in an unfelt breeze.
Unseen eyes watched me, following my every move. I turned in a slow circle, trying to find my secret watcher, but could see no one. It was so strong, strong enough to start to make me uncomfortable, and then afraid. My heart was beating like mad in my chest, pounding, pounding.
My eyes opened with the gasp that escaped my lungs, and I found myself chin-deep in warm, churning water, almost as though I were in a witch's pot. Looking around, I saw the kids from the pool were gone, and Hopper was walking toward me.
"You're still here," she said, a statement. I blinked several times, trying to clear my head.
"Yeah. Where else would I be?" Pushing myself up in the seat, the water lowered to just above my breasts, and my arms began to float.
"Oh, uh, just surprised that you're still in the hot tub, I guess. Need a fork?" She grinned, eyes devious.
"A fork? What?" I looked down at myself, confused. Then I got the joke. "Ha ha. I'm done, put a fork in me, got it." I rolled my eyes and she grinned wider.
"I'm going to swim a couple laps then I thought we'd get some room service."
"Ohhh!" I immediately perked up. We hadn't eaten in hours, and all this exercise had me exhausted and hungry. Hopper stripped down to her own undies, and dove in.
$$$
"That was soooo good." I sat back against the end of the bed, hand resting contentedly on my stomach. I nudged my empty plate away with my big toe.

"Sure was." Hopper leaned back against the dresser. Our little carpet picnic had been nice. Ordering a spread of ribs, extra gooey, salad, rolls, a beer for each of us and a pot of coffee, with double chocolate cake for dessert.
"I can't remember the last time I had ribs that were that good." I grinned at the pile of napkins that littered the tray our dinner had been brought on. "So messy."
"They're best when they're messy. What kind of ribs would they be if they were clean and proper?" Hopper asked, grabbing the packaged handy-wipes they'd sent with the meal, and tossing me one. Happily tearing the packaging open, I began to run the moist wipe down between my fingers and the skin of my knuckles where the sauce really liked to gather. "My mom used to make a mean plate of ribs. The things was, though, they were from our very own pigs and cows."
"No kidding? Didn't that bother you? Knowing that your pets were dinner?" The wipe joined the rest of the garbage, and I sat back, crossing my ankles and relaxing, allowing everything to digest as painlessly as possible. I hated overeating.
"Pets? Shoot, they weren't pets. You couldn't see them that way. Had to learn that the hard way."
"Why?"
"Well," Hopper sighed, pushing herself down to hold herself up on her elbows. "When I was six there was this cow that I loved. He loved me, too. I named her Tulip after my favorite flower at the time, and used to go out and chase her around." She smiled, making her whole face light up. She truly was a beautiful woman. "We were close. Then one day were headed for the Stock Show in Denver, and my dad loaded Tulip up in the horse trailer, along with a couple of the pigs. I found out later that they were to be put up for sale. The highest bidder got to eat my friend." She gave me a very sad smile.
"I'm sorry. That must have been devastating for a six year old who didn't understand."
"Without a doubt, but I had to learn. After that I never named another animal on the farm, nor did I have anything to do with them except to help my parents take care of them. Feed them, that kind of thing."
"You and I had a totally different childhood." I chuckled at the thought. "See, I grew up in a northern suburb in New Jersey, not far from the city. My father was a broker when I was a kid. I'm talking the big houses, big cars, big names as friends, the works. Then he got fired, some big scandal that I was too young to understand. All I know is suddenly one day I get home from school, my father was directing three men who were moving stuff out of the house, including all my mother's priceless works of art. I was informed that we were moving, and to go help Suzanne pack my room."
"Suzanne?"

"The maid."
"Ah. Shit, in my household, me and my little brother were the maid." Hopper laughed.
"Oh, a brother? Is he a hoodlum, too?" I flashed mischievous eyes at her to let her know I was teasing her. She snorted at the comment.
"Are you kidding? Fuck no. Brian is a friggin' minister now." She gave me a wicked grin.
"Oh!" I clapped my hands. "How perfect. Gee, I bet you two are close."
"As close as Jesus and the Devil as poker pals."
I laughed, then got up, gathering up all our trash. I was so tired of looking at the tray, and it was making me feel sick. Setting it outside the door, I flopped onto the bed, spreading out on my side and holding my head up with my hand.
"Hopper?" I asked, my voice soft.
"Hmm?" She responded, plucking at some carpet fibers.
"Will you tell me what you did? Why you're running?" She looked up at me, and where I thought I'd see anger, I only saw sadness and resignation. Hopper sighed
and gathered herself, literally, hugging her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins. What was she trying to protect herself from?
"I already told you that my dad died when I was thirteen. He had been a big rodeo hero in his day, thrown off a lot of bulls, and constantly re-injuring himself until he was an old man way before his time. Anyway, so his body finally gave out, and he had a heart attack, died right there on the field."
"Wow. Who found him?" I rolled over onto my stomach, socked heels clicking together periodically.
"Brian. I was at school, luckily. Anyway, so then we had this farm with huge debts. There was no way in hell that mom could pay them off, and dad had no insurance. Enter Winston Myles Carter IV, Attorney At Law. He had been sniffing around the property for years, but was always chased off by my dad. So, when he died, and he knew mom was desperate, he came back with a wonderful offer."
"Oh, boy." I could tell there were bad things coming.
"Yeah." Hopper got up and opened the small refrigerator, offering up a travel-size bottle of pre-mixed margarita. I nodded, and she tossed it to me, then grabbed one for herself. Making herself comfortable on the other bed, she kicked off her shoes and laid back.

"Mom took the offer, which she understood to be that he'd pay off the loans she had, and we'd continue to work the land, giving Carter a portion of the profits. What he hadn't told her, though, and mom never admitted this, but she never denied it, either, was he go equal profits from her."
I wrinkled my nose, trying to imagine how a woman like that, so desperate to hold on to her land and feed her family, could say no.
"What he also didn't tell her was that he planned to run the farm into the ground and pocket its sale as losses for his investment."
"No!"
"Yes, ma'am." Hopper nodded then gulped from her little bottle. She twisted the cap back on and set it on the table between our beds. "So, we ended up far worse than we started, and mom was too embarrassed to do anything about it. We moved to Denver, living with my Aunt Joyce for a bit, then a shelter, and finally a piece of shit apartment in Capital Hill. Now, I don't know how familiar you are with Denver, but that is not a place you want to be."
"Isn't that where that rapist was several years back? The Capital Hill Rapist?" I sipped from my own bottle. I wasn't sure what kind of drunk Hopper was, if she in fact got drunk, so decided to keep my wits about me. She nodded.
"Exactly. So Carter disappeared, and we were left to try and fend for ourselves. Mom got a job with a plumber, working his phone calls during the day, and then bagging groceries at night at King Soopers, a grocery store," she clarified at my look of confusion.
"Ah."
"I did what any white girl would do to survive in a mostly black neighborhood- got tough. Stated hanging out with them, getting involved in the shit that they did, and met Austin. You know that story."
"Yeah, you broke up," I said dryly.
"Precisely." She grinned. "I get out, and I've got one thing on the brain- vengeance. I find out where Carter has gone in nine years, and turns out he'd ended up in good ol' Minneapolis."
"Thus how we became insta-roommates."
"Indeed." She raised her drink to me and finished it, tossing the bottle to the end of her bed. "Found out he was with some huge firm there, so got a job with the night cleaning crew. Luckily, like the rest of the big wigs in the world, the fucker didn't care who cleaned up his shit, and we never met. I got his floor, and timed myself so that it always

took me around three hours and fifteen minutes to clean it. Eventually I got it down to just over an hour, and used the other two hours to snoop. I went through his files, drawers, locked and unlocked," she winked, "and anything else I could find. I found out where all his accounts were, found out just how many other people he'd fucked over the years, and found out who all had access to his accounts."
"Ohh, regular James Bond."
"You have no idea. So, I forged some names, and cleaned out his accounts." She grinned, sticking her tongue out between her teeth.
"That's what we've been lugging along all this time."
"Yep."
"Okay, then why were you being chased by the cops the night you came to my place?"
Hopper looked away from me, though I could tell she was smiling.
"Hopper?"
"You'll laugh."
"At this point? I doubt it."
She looked at me. "Okay, I told you that I had taken files and things, getting his life down pat." I nodded. "Well, not everything came from his office. I was busted breaking and entering."
"To steal more?"
"No, to put the shit back."
We both erupted into laughter. "How much money are we talking about here?" My curiosity was on overdrive.
"Forty-three million and some change."
"Holy shit!" I flopped over to my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine that much money. "What will you do with all that?" I looked over at her, my voice quiet, somehow in awe of what she had been able to pull off.
"I don't know." She put her hands behind her head. "Invest some of it, hide some of it, and just basically have a better life." She shrugged. "That's all anyone can hope for."
"Are you tired of the criminal bit?"

"You have no idea." She looked at me, and I smiled, shaking my head.
"No, I truly don't. The worst thing I ever did was egg a house with some friends when I was in seventh grade. Got grounded for a month."
"Oh, lordy. How did you get so bad?" She waggled a finger at me.
"Lots of practice, I guess." I turned my attention back tot eh ceiling.
"Oh, and Ginny?"
"Yeah?" I asked, starting to feel myself doze from all the good food, small bit of alcohol and exercise.
"I sold your car tonight."
"Hmm." My eyes closed, only to snap back open. "What?!"
$$$
"You sold my car for that?" I pointed. "It's a friggin' tank!"
Hopper laughed, pushing the automatic locking system to unlock the doors with a beep. "That's just because you were used to driving that little Smurf of a car." She climbed in behind the wheel, and I beside her, muttering the entire time. I looked around the thing, surveying all its features and gadgets. Though I'd never tell Hopper this in a million years, it was gorgeous. Black on the outside, gray leather interior with plenty of space.
"What is this thing, anyway?" I fiddled with knobs and controls, getting my hand slapped away a couple times.
"This baby is a 2004 Buick Rainier, fully loaded." Hopper proclaimed with quite the smug grin.
'You cannot tell me for a moment that you got enough from my 1999 Ford Focus to buy this thing." I looked at her skeptically. She grinned, putting the key into the ignition.
"You wouldn't think, would you?"
Shaking my head, I turned to look behind us, all of our bags loaded into the spacious back seat, and the blanket folded neatly on the floor between the driver's seat and the back seat.
"Oh my god!" I turned in my seat, getting up on my knees.

"What?" Hopper looked all around us, the parking lot, the entrance to the hotel, then back to me in confusion. I looked at her with wide eyes.
"Hopper, the money's gone." I whispered.
"God," she put her hand to her chest, turning back in her seat, eyes closed for a moment. "Don't scare me like that. I thought the entire National Guard was outside the damn car." She looked at me, and I was even more confused. "I know it's gone. I made it that way."
"Why? Where is it?" I also sat down, absently grabbing the seatbelt, trying to figure out where the hell it snapped into.
"That's for me to know and you never to find out." Hopper grinned and started the car. "You might as well settle in- we've got a long trip ahead of us today." She grabbed a map out of the glove compartment, which I guess she grabbed while out during her morning activities with my damn car. Spreading it out across the steering wheel, I peeked over, seeing it was a map of the United States. Losing interest, I opened my paperback and started to read as Hopper charted our course.
The ride was so smooth, almost soothing, the radio on low, music lulling me to sleep as my eyes got heavier and heavier. The book in my hands seemed to get heavy, too, harder and harder to hold, falling to teepee my thigh, head sinking back against the softness that was the headrest, light fading, world becoming one big blob, darkness.
$$$
Random pictures entered my consciousness- passing scenery that slipped into a red traffic light and Hopper chewing on a nail to Hopper matching words on the map with the big green signs along the highway, to my strange dreams, all filtering together to create a warm blanket of peace.
My name echoed in my head, bouncing around against those walls, making me twitch with each hit.
"Ginny,"
There it was again.
"Ginny, wake up, come on. I need you to direct me."
My eyes slowly opened, half light, half dark. I heard a chuckle and looked over at Hopper. Fixing my sunglasses so they were straight and trying to rub out the kink from sleeping with my face against the window. I looked into her amused eyes and groaned, stretching my screaming body.

"Where are we?" I yawned, but then caught sight of the sign that welcomed me to Missouri. Looking back to Hopper, I saw that she had the map out again, flattening it against the steering wheel. "Why are we here?"
"That's where your sister is, isn't it?" Her brows were drawn, half disappearing behind her own glasses, my surprise reflected back at me in a circus mirror image.
"You mean,"
"Yep." She looked back to the map. With a squeal I reached across the console between our seats and grabbed her up in as good a hug as I could give.
"Thank you." I said, letting go of her and sitting back in my own seat. She nodded, looking out at the traffic that roared past us as we sat on the side of the highway.
"Well, you did sacrifice your car and all," She unbuckled her seatbelt. "Get out."
"What?"
"Get out. Be careful." She opened her door, quickly closing it and hugging the side of the car as a big rig whizzed dangerously close by. Getting the idea, I quickly unbuckled and was out, stepping into the soggy ground, muddy from recent rains, the road black, reflecting all the lights of the stream of cars.
She handed me the map once we got settled, and with a devilish grin, I tossed it to the backseat.
"I don't need that."
We actually weren't far. I guessed at about another hour and a half and we'd be there. I told Hopper as much, and she nodded, tilting her seat back and closing her eyes. I turned the radio down so as not to disturb Hopper's nap. Also so I could hear sirens.
"You've given your criminal a bit of a heart at times, haven't you?" Ronald Stone asked. I nodded, sipping my water. Setting the cup down, I adjusted slightly in the chair.
"Yes. I believe everyone has a good side to them. And, if we're honest, we all have that bad side, as well." I explained. Ronald seemed to chew on this as he chewed on the arm of his glasses.
"Alright, I can buy that. But why such polar opposites in reaction and temperament? One moment you have Hopper as a savage and the next she's doing something wonderful for Ginny."
"Just as I would do for you or you for anyone else. Give and take, Ronald. No one is consistent."

"Hopper. Wake up." Reaching out a hand, I gently nudged her arm, her entire body moving with the touch. She sighed, leg twitching. "Hopper." Startling me, she sat straight up, head snapping around, taking in her surroundings. Finally she looked at me, then seemed to relax. Taking her glasses off, she rubbed at her eyes then ran her hand through her hair.
"Where are we?"
"We're here." I also ran my hands through my hair, though for a different reason. I wanted to look nice.
Hopper took in the parking lot, the two-story building before us, a man standing outside in a white lab coat talking to two women in blue scrubs. She also took in the man sitting in the wheelchair dressed in a flannel robe, his head, covered with silver hair, cocked to the side, eyes staring out blankly, mouth open and working, but nothing seeming to come out, a woman with short, brown hair sitting at a picnic table next to him, hand on his arm, head bowed. She seemed to be crying.
"This looks like a nursing home." Hopper said, looking at me. I nodded.
"It's an assisted living home, yes."
"But I thought your sister was dead?"
I smiled sadly at her. "Come on." I reached to my bag behind me, turning back and plopping a baseball cap onto her head. She straightened the cap, pulling a ponytail through the hole in back as we walked into the facility. It was clean, floors polished and reflecting the soft lights above. The reception desk was just as I remembered it- long and curved, two computer banks with a woman sitting in front of each.
"Ginny," the first said, smiling up at me, then giving a curious glance to Hopper. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Grace. Thank you for asking."
"You're early. Don't you usually come around Thanksgiving?" She handed me the short visitor form to fill out and sign. I smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. Slight chance in plans."
"Oh, well glad to have you." She gave us each a warm smile, then turned to the ringing phone.
I slid the clipboard back across the counter and headed down the hall toward one of the two elevators. We waited for a couple minutes until there was a ding, and rose-veneered doors slid open.

Hopper said nothing as she walked beside me down the hall. We passed doors on either side, some open, some closed. Some were filled with laughter, others with talking, and some with nothing at all. That was the case with room 218. The door was closed, and I quietly turned the knob, knowing it would be unlocked. The room was small, a single, one window, blinds drawn, leaving the room with a faintly golden hue with the dying sun trying to break free of its blockage.
Sitting in a chair, simple wooden construction with lightly padded seat and back, arms on either side, was a still figure. The chair was placed before the window, as though the person were staring out into the fading light.
The long blonde hair that had been there six months ago was cut short, lightly sprinkled over the ears. Shoulders narrow, arms resting lightly upon the arms of the chair.
"Hey, Cora." I said, my voice quiet, not daring break the hush in the room. Pulling a chair with me, I sat beside her, taking her warm hand in mine. Her skin, pale and clear, eyes staring into the abyss. I watched, noting that they looked dry. I brought a hand up, just to the corner of her right eye, and automatically she blinked, bringing much-needed moisture to those green eyes, so much like my own. "You have to do that sometimes. It's almost like they get stuck." I explained softly to Hopper, who stayed back by Cora's bed.
"What's wrong with her?" Hopper asked, curious and surprised.
"We don't know. After the accident she had to have the fluid that was gathering around her brain drained to stop the pressure, then she went into a coma. That lasted for just over a month, but when she came out, she was like this." I brought my sister's hand to my cheek, closing my eyes as I rubbed it against the soft, veined skin.
"Is there anyone in there?"
"The doctor's don't know." I brought a hand up, running my hand over my big sister's new hairdo. "There is brain activity, and not just in the stem to control her reflexes and that sort of thing." Brushing my fingers through the short strands, I smiled. "I like your new do, sis. I think there is, though." I continued. "Aren't you, Cora? You're in there somewhere." I sighed, rubbing my thumb across the hand I still held. "I just wish I knew where."
"She's been here all this time?"
I nodded. Hopper moved a bit closer, leaning against the wall next to the window. She looked into Cora's face.
"You guys look alike." She said.
"I know." I grinned up at her, pride filling me.

"Why is she still here so far from you?"
"In my parent's will it was stated that money was left to continue paying for Cora's care here until either she died, or funds ran out. I can't afford anything else myself."
"Your parents are dead?" Hopper sounded surprised. I nodded.
"Mom kept her here, kept her alive, because she said she couldn't bare to lose a child. She couldn't lose her Cora Rose. Now that they're gone, I can't lose her because she's all I've got left."
She looked down at her hands, which fidgeted with the sunglasses, then looked at me, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of the bill of her hat. "We don't have a lot of time, Ginny, so I'm going to leave you alone for a bit. Okay?"
"Yeah."
She pushed away from the wall, headed toward the door.
"Hopper?"
"Yeah?" she asked, hand on the knob.
"Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me." She looked at me for a moment, meeting my gaze second for second, finally breaking it. She nodded and left. I turned back to Cora. "I bet you're wondering who that was." Smiling, I stood and opened the blinds, letting the reaming light in. "I call her Hopper, though it's not actually her name. Anyway, this is crazy. This entire thing, how I met her, what she's doing here, why I'm here now instead of in November," I ran my hands through my hair, staring out into the early evening. "Crazy."
I told her my crazy story, realizing just how much I'd entered some of my favorite TV shows. With each passing detail, I also realized how much potential danger I was putting myself in. Well, had been put in, really.
"Part of me is really scared, Cora." I said, stroking my sister's hand. She had not moved in the hour that I'd been with her. It broke my heart, looking into those eyes that looked into eternity. I chuckled softly. "I can't help but think of the irony. Back home I work for a magazine, and am in the center of one hell of a story. But somehow I have no interest in sharing this story. I don't," I paused, trying to think of what exactly I was trying to say. "I'm going to see this through, I guess. I don't know what will happen, but can only hope that we both get out alive."
I sighed, standing. Kissing my sister on the cheek, I carefully hugged her.

"I'll be back- you mark my words. Be good, okay?" No response, as I knew there wouldn't be. "I love you, Cora. Someday you and I are going to go for ice cream again. Remember how we used to do that? When you first got your driver's license?" I smiled at the memory. "See you, sis."
I was told that my 'friend' was waiting outside for me, and found Hopper in the SUV, seat tilted back, stereo playing softly and her eyes closed. The doors were locked so I tapped on the window. She started awake, making me smile. Finally getting her bearings, she sat up in the seat and hit the automatic locks. Clicking open, I got in the car, looking at her.
"You're not getting enough sleep." This was a statement, not any question from me.
"I'm fine." She turned the key in the ignition. "How was your visit?"
"It was great, and you're not fine. Get out."
"What?" She looked at me, incredulous.
"Come on, get out." I hopped down from the vehicle, heading around the front where my progress was being traced by blue eyes. Opening the driver's side door, I stood to the side. "Out. I'm driving for a while."
Looking at me for a long moment, finally Hopper slid out, taking her time getting I on the passenger side. I adjusted the seat for my shorter legs as well as the rearview mirror.
"Where to?" I asked, watching as she made herself comfortable. She sighed, chewing on her lip as she stared out the front window at the near-empty parking lot. Not many folks here at night, save for employees.
"Anywhere." Her eyes met mine. I could see it in her eyes- she truly didn't care. It was either a lot of trust or pure resignation to her fate and whatever that may be.
"Okay. Then you're last official task as abductor tonight will be to hand me that map. She did, not hiding her smirk. "Thank you. Now sleep."
"Yes, mom."
$$$
The miles and hours whizzed by along with the dwindling traffic. Coffee settled between my thighs, warmth spreading through the denim and into the skin of my legs. It was a cold morning, the sky still black as three a.m. inched its way on the dashboard clock. The music buzzed in the background, no DJ for hours, now. It was a recording of some woman's voice, soft and soothing, making me want to fall asleep.

Hopper slept peacefully, her seat completely reclined, head turned away from me. I could see the tendons in her long neck move once in awhile as she swallowed, but other than that, no movement for nearly six hours. Not eve when I went thorough the drive through of a fast food place to get my coffee.
What a horrible way to have to come to some fort of reconciliation with yourself and the life you live. The middle of the night, unseen miles ahead of you and a regretful past behind you. My life. My past. What past? I was a writer for a magazine specializing in equipment for farmers. What did I know about farmer and their equipment? Absolutely nothing. I'm sure Hopper could fill me in. I'd been at Tractor & Trade for just over a year, before that I was in the newspaper business. This job made up with steady hours what it lacked in excitement.
I barely knew my co-workers, having worked from home a good deal of the time. Stanley, my boss, liked my work. He offered to send me to the magazine's headquarters in Houston, bigger office, bigger stories, bigger bucks. I'd turned it down. Nope, I was safe in my little cocoon called Minneapolis. I'd had a boyfriend, Jason, who'd wanted to be my husband, or at least fiancé. I turned him down, too. Maybe if I pushed him away I couldn't lose him. This way, at least, it would be my choice, and not left up to fate.
Pathetic.
Twenty-seven years old and afraid of her own life.
I glanced over at Hopper, wondering what she thought of what she'd made of her life. Was she happy? Satisfied? Content? Was that maybe the right way to go? Run wild, do what you wanted, law and society be damned? She was running, too, I realized. Obviously literally at the moment, but in general. It seemed to me she avoided responsibility for the same reasons I avoided commitment to anything. The longest I'd lived in one apartment was three years, the same with a job. It wasn't that I couldn't keep them, I just grew bored. Or perhaps I was afraid of succeeding?
Was Hopper afraid of succeeding? Was she afraid of herself? Who she is or was? An enigma- the first word I thought of whenever I thought of her. A complex puzzle made of so many twists and turns as to drive me nuts.
Darkness eventually gave way to a painter's pallet in the sky, which melted into golden light and blue skies. Suddenly I started to have neighbors on the once empty highway.
I was wiping the unwanted Sandman out of my eyes when I heard movement beside me.
"Hey," Hopper sat up, her seat buzzing quietly as it moved into place. She looked around with a yawn, noting the time. "Jesus! You've been driving for," she did a quick mental calculation, "fourteen hours."
Glancing at the clock, I nodded.